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A classic summer bar. After all, what more do you want on a July night than a finely manicured backyard garden (with, of course, a big porch), a fine, cold bottle of Summer Ale, and a fabulous D.J. spinning deep house, or reggae, or some unidentifiable but undeniably soulful rhythms? The problem, naturally, is that everyone wants such finery, which means that on weekend nights you stand a good chance of being crushed to death in the garden bar of your dreams—that is, if you can make it through the little, black barroom unscathed. But hey, on a Sunday afternoon or a Tuesday at twilight, stop on by and hoist a few with your friends and a civilized number of attractive Alphabet Citizens under the Manhattan skies. — Matt Gross