This has been a year of Obama-like highs and Blago-stooping lows. How to sum it all up? Let's start with the eight best spots where you ate, drank and made merry.
The autumn brought no shortage of places giving you a bird's-eye view while you kicked back with a cocktail. But only one had girls in skintight catsuits serving them to you. Advantage: Vertigo.
Hats off to the Avec/Blackbird sibling that accomplished the seemingly impossible: living up to its own hype. But when your raison d'etre boils down to just three ingredients—beer, pork, oysters—how can you go wrong?
Just when your patience for tapas joints was at its breaking point, the Blackstone goes all Barcelona Nights on you, importing the country's top tapas chef to ply you with sangria, Grant Park views and a whole crispy suckling pig carved tableside. Gracias is in order.
When we hear Donald Trump talk about "class," it's a little bit like hearing Blago talk about ethics. So when both destinations inside the Trump Tower are experiences par excellence, it leaves us slightly worried that G-Rod may just beat the rap...
How bad could 2008 be when you have a choice among several meat-filled cupcakes? Of all the options, More's version gets a leg up on the competition for its use of ranch dressing as a frosting agent.
It's no surprise that the sons of Rich Melman had a bit of the old man's showmanship in them, but just when you thought it stopped at something called Hub Punch, they open an underground lounge—complete with secret entrance.
The name still doesn't quite roll off the tongue, but in a year when out-of-town chefs staged an invasion, no place compares to Laurent Gras' aquatic elegance. So to the kneeling servers who fuss over you in its tatami room, allow us to bow in respect.
