The Hideaway

At first glance, the Hideaway seems like just another neighborhood pub featuring a surly bartender, the Rolling Stones on the stereo, a framed portrait of Jerry Garcia on the wall and the Jets game up on the flat-screen TV. Then you notice the big guy lurking in chef’s whites, the slim kitchen, the $32 steak frites on the menu and the $250 bottle of Caymus behind the bar near the Jaeger. This tiny labor of love from chef Alex Oefeli, formerly of Raoul’s, seems awfully ambitious for a glorified sports bar. Sadly, aside from the delicious smoked deviled eggs, Oefeli’s simple-though-striving gastropub fare is about as exciting as a 30-minute meal from Rachael Ray: The lone salad on the menu tasted dull, a skirt steak seemed oversaturated with a chili-based rub when we sampled it and the crispy chicken wasn’t especially crispy. You might want to stop by for a beer, but this is no place to hide away and feast.