The Hill

Murray Hill delivers another nightlife dud with this multilevel sports bar. Flat-screen TVs and the stench of old beer dominate the space, in which scantily clad waitresses ferry swill to a hooting, lowbrow clientele. Cloying cocktails (the Key Lime Pie combines vanilla vodka with lime and pineapple juices in a graham-cracker-rimmed glass) appeal to the postsorority set, while Bud and Amstel satisfy their beefcake counterparts. Worse is the food, which includes fondues like a bland and greasy white-cheddar version served with stale bread. A thin chocolate rendition reeks of cheap brandy, and is presented with an array of dippable junk food: standard-issue marshmallows, underripe strawberries, and dry ladyfingers and brownie chunks. Avoid.