Georgians, as we’ve noted before, are as chauvinistic about their ancient cuisine as any Italian or French gastronome, and this Greenwich Village restaurant, named for the country’s largest city, offers evidence to support the bias. If it’s your first time, you want the imeruli salad (like a feta-less Greek, but with a wonderfully creamy-tangy walnut-purée dressing). You want the khinkali (a plate of overgrown soup dumplings neatly pleated like old-fashioned ice packs and filled with meat and broth). And you want the adjaruli khachapuri (essentially a baked-to-order bread canoe, its hull overflowing with melted, mildly sour sulguni cheese and a raw egg yolk for stirring in). Then you want a 48-hour nap.