Can a finicky gourmand who hates to gamble and can't stand crowds possibly find happiness in the loudest, craziest, most garish city in America? Gael Greene says you can bet on it.

Here we go again -- overnight, BondSt in NoHo is hotter than wasabi, the place to cross chopsticks with the neighborhood’s parading mantises.

Chef Larry Forgione likes the idea of braving a department store. That's where we discover the stylish elegance and crunch of slaw-style salads at An American Place.

When Warner LeRoy bought the Russian Tea Room, loyalists cringed; when he tore it down, they wept; now that it's reopened, they're lining up.

The parade of sensuous sushi, each sliver of fish hiding a heady wasabi charge, provokes uninhibited ummms of shocked pleasure.

What in the World Is New York Cuisine?

Latch onto the glorified lobster shack launched as phase one of BLT Fish—the latest love child of Laurent Tourondel’s crush on American cooking.

Latino stars, salsa swingers, Yankees in mufti, and a trickle of downtown swells fuel the heat at Jimmy's Bronx Cafe, home of cosmic soup and Godzilla lobsters.

In two old familiar spaces near Bloomingdale's, Cibi-Cibi courts the youth vote with excess decibels, while Latin sizzle is the draw at Bolívar.

I want a little dinner. A great little dinner. Where to?