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With its touristy locale (across from Rockefeller Center) and suspiciously folksy exterior (Guinness signs, painted wood façade slapped between concrete office buildings), it would be easy to mistake P.J. Moran’s for another hokey, mediocre Irish pub. But this place is a step up. A hostess—one of several with lilting brogues—will likely seat you at a bar table if you’re dressed casually; the back dining room, with its bright yellow walls and linen-set tables, tends to fill up with suits and ties. The bartenders at the long, gleaming wood bar are as happy to mix you a caramel appletini as they are to pull you a pint, and the surprisingly long menu lists surprisingly elegant choices: Oak-smoked salmon served with onions, capers, and toast points; chicken sautéed in a piquillo-pepper gazpacho. That’s not to say that sticking to the Irish greatest hits isn’t a good idea: Pan-seared sirloin in a creamy Irish whiskey-garlic sauce is smoky, flavorful, and—with a side of gravy and mash—hearty enough to take you through dinner. The house specialty, chicken pot pie, is a steaming, flaky-crusted casserole of broth, chunky white meat, and vegetables. — Sarah Gold

The kitchen closes at 11 p.m. Monday through Saturday, and at 8 p.m. on Sundays.

Chicken pot pie, $14.95; pan-seared Irish steak, $21.95