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Here's the strategy for attacking Mary, Queen of Scots: find a seat at the bar, pick a Scotch from the never-ending list and order some small plates like a fatty cube of pork belly, then admire the Braveheart-meets-Sex-Pistols décor. This is the more beautiful younger sister of the West Village's cozy Scottish corner, Highlands. Every inch of the restaurant is festooned with clever, never-kitschy pieces: a stunning, honeycomb mirrored ceiling, striking big-patterned custom-made wallpaper, and a clutch of haunting paintings are some of the eye candy. Chef Christopher Rendell, most recently of now-defunct Double Crown, mixes modern bistro fare with pub standards like fish and chips, an order of which brings one small, soggy stick of battered haddock, one monstrous king prawn, and a heap of fries all stuffed into a small metal tub. The best part is a tiny cast iron pan of minty mushy peas. For an evening of drinks and snacks, Mary delivers. But judged on a full meal, it might be off with her head. — Edna Ishayik

Roast pork belly, $11

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