Maude’s Liquor Bar

The industry crowd that hangs out at Maude’s rarely makes it in before midnight. But the rest of us should make a point to get there earlier, when the kitchen, helmed by Alinea vet Jeff Pikus, is still open. That way we can gulp down delicious whiskey smashes and stab at shellfish towers; nosh on butter-smooth chicken liver slathered on toast with fig marmalade; nibble on smoky slabs of pork belly, fanned over a pitch-perfect salad Lyonnaise; and tear into drunken braised chicken thighs and legs. The embarrassment of riches comes to a halt at dessert, when the servers bluntly convey that crème brûlée, and only crème brûlée, is available. It's a display of brass that would be maddening—if only it weren’t so dead-on.