Profile

For the intrepid comedy seeker—or the recklessly cheap—the New York Comedy Club is a zero-amenities groundfloor showroom that looks more like a storage locker than a performance venue. The narrow bar area, where a few regulars and staffers linger during shows, fronts a black-box space with a crater-pocked ceiling, shabby tables, and sticky floors. Eat here at your own risk: The tiny menu offers nachos, Nathan's hotdogs, and White Castle sliders, microwaved into another life form altogether. With steady gigs for "urban" (read: black), Jewish, female, and Italian comics, guests can pick and choose their niche offense. Comics like Damon Wayans have passed through, but artists have been known to pay to play: Aspiring jokesters rent the mic on Mondays, Fridays and Sundays ($5 for five minutes). Sketch comedy and improv have regular slots at the club—most notably Joy Neuman's Grown-Up's Playground every other Saturday at 6 p.m. — Helen Zelon