This is a subterranean dive with gritty charisma. Live cover bands play at one of its two bars Thursdays and Fridays, and crooners (think Frank Sinatra types) play on the weekends, including for Sunday brunch, to a yuppie-meets-artsy crowd. The hip Rat Pack vibe, large martinis, and fine salads, pizzas, and meatloaf keep lines trailing out the door. The story goes: when its signboard wasn't ready for the 2001 opening, the owners shrugged, "Ah, so what?" and let the place
stay nondescript. It's been packed ever since.