Vai's Iberico ham with Brussels sprouts and piave cheese, courtesy of Vai Restaurant.

Vai stands out from the crowd on Amsterdam Avenue

The restaurant row of Amsterdam Avenue is dominated by the sort of Japanese fusion restaurant whose menu is dominated by eight pages of maki that feature mango, cream cheese, and tempura-fried everything. Their outdoor seating is a sea of blond ponytails and pink-and-purple-topped plates, and waves of clinking chopsticks and high-pitched laughter come rolling off like it’s high tide.

Between two of these sits a restaurant that looks from the outside like their plain older cousin. Vai’s (429 Amsterdam Ave., betw. 80th & 81st St., vairestaurant.com) awning is a neutral taupe, rather than striking black. Inside, the decor is limited to some spare arrangements in vases, rather than pebble-paved walls and lacquered cabinetry. Lighting comes from a wrought-iron chandelier and tabletop candles, not recessed neon. Despite (or perhaps, because of) this, it’s Vai that draws the diner, much as white space on a busy page draws the weary eye looking for a rest.

A rest can be found here. It’s an interesting room, designed in equal parts for drinking and dining in secret. It’s split down the middle by a low wall that backs a row of banquette seating; on one side is an enormously tall, curved bar flanked by a few convivial tables—the bartender can be seen handing drinks like the Pomegranate Gimlet over the top to those seated nearby. On the other are the tables shielded by that wall and a row of candlelit four-tops that hug the room’s brick wall. On that side, it’s as if the party were happening in a distant apartment as gracious staff pour wine and, in the case of one table recently, offer to cut unwieldy food for broken-armed patrons.
There are seats outside, of course, and right now they are the most popular seats in the house, so to speak. Large groups do well out there, where, unconfined by the two-party system that rules inside, they can be boisterous and merry directly next to a quiet table for two and neither will feel as if they’ve come to the wrong place.

The menu is divided into three times as many categories as needed, as is the norm nowadays, but each contains only two or three items, so the risk of option paralysis is low. In fact, the division makes it easier to build exactly the meal you want, rather than second-guessing yourself over and over again. Want to keep it light? Zero in on the Crudo, Vegetable and Sea sections. So hungry you could eat a horse? Head for the Pasta and Land sections, maybe with a stop in Warm Appetizers.

Nominally Mediterranean, Vai draws flavor profiles from around the world, with pickled ginger surrounding a tuna and hamachi crudo, jalapeno pesto supporting charred octopus and Spanish Iberico ham teaming up with piave cheese to surround roasted Brussels sprouts. The prevalence of cheese is decidedly Italian—every one of the vegetable dishes featured it, and then there was the burrata ravioli with parmigiano—and the antipasti that come to every table before ordering is an introduction to the lengthy, laid-back meals of Southern Europe.

If you take the tour of the menu, a number of similarly sculptural dishes will make their way to your table. In the smaller dishes, elements are piled semi-neatly in a corner of the plate, a swipe of this sauce, a swoop of another and a sprinkling of microgreens covering the rest of the territory, and until you dig through, it may be hard to tell whether you’ve got the Brussels sprouts or the pear and speck salad in front of you. Meat and fish mains are more easily identifiable, primarily because they are all presented in all their carnivorous glory, an enormous, bone-in pork chop or whole branzino splayed across the plate.

Unexpectedly, these repetitions never feel cloying. In stark contrast to the overwhelming aesthetics next door, Vai has found a formula that presents food well without dwelling on the details, saving the effort for the flavor profiles and seasonal variations that make the menu unique. In a sea of false fusion, its eclecticism feels like a comfortable lifeboat.

Leave Your Bags on Your Back

It’s nice to know people are so trusting of those around them. In New York City it’s a rare quality, but one that can cost its practitioners dearly. On the night of Saturday, April 28, a woman at a bar near 76th Street and Second Avenue had her bag stolen off the back of her chair. The unknown thief took the woman’s cellphone, wallet and a pair of Marc Jacobs sunglasses as well as her Yohji Yamamoto bag valued at $1,500. The 21st Precinct wishes to remind residents that although going to a bar usually promises a night of fun and friends, people should always keep an eye on their belongings.

Party Pooper

Throwing a house party is always fun—when it’s held at someone else’s home. One resident of the Upper East Side learned this lesson the hard way on Saturday, April 28, after an unknown partygoer stole the show.

The host was allowing people into his soiree when a party crasher made his way inside. After mingling with the other guests, the crook got to work and pocketed a Tag Heuer and a Seiko watch, each one valued at over $1,000. The thief, maybe emboldened by his new timepieces, also seized an iPod and then went for the big prize. As he made his way out of the apartment, he shoved a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black under his coat, thus stealing the life of party and giving himself something to toast with, too. So far, no arrests have been made.

Taking a Beating for Electronic Love

From Tribeca to Harlem, there are always cases of people being ambushed for their valuables, an unpleasant fact New Yorkers must deal with now that they keep pricey toys in their pockets. These crooks do not discriminate or use fair tactics, as one woman discovered last Thursday night on Third Avenue near East 95th Street. The woman was talking on her cellphone when she was approached by a group of four black men and two women, who demanded that she hand over her valuables or suffer a beating. She then made a choice that the NYPD swears up and down is the absolute wrong thing to do: She held fast to her cellphone and invited the challenge. The group punched the woman repeatedly in the face and body, while trying to get the victim to release her vise-like grip on her phone. After realizing that they were fighting a losing battle, the dastardly thugs took off down East 95th toward the West Side. The victim refused medical attention and suffered a few bruises, but she got lucky, according to police. Although these crooks quickly took off, New Yorkers should remember that while we may be some tough cookies, losing a life over a cellphone is not worth the cost.

Baggage Claim

The MTA tells you to keep your belongings in sight at all times, and this rule applies for being on the street as well. At about noon of Saturday the 28th, a woman found an ideal parking spot on East 82nd Street, but needed a way to ensure that the spot remained open to her vehicle; ergo she utilized a piece of luggage as a means to tell other motorists that this spot was off-limits. One crooked driver was not in need of her spot, but realized the potential to profit from her blunder. When the woman returned to park her car, she saw a black sedan pulling away with her luggage in the backseat of the car. The woman lost several shirts, a $400 silk dress and a box of Quaker oatmeal.

Handing It Over

Apparently, in an urban metropolis, even the public bathroom isn’t safe from enterprising robbers, or so a recent incident reported by the NYPD would indicate. A 57-year-old woman was at the Whitehall Ferry Terminal in the early afternoon when she made her way to the restrooms. After selecting a stall, she placed her bag on a hook on the stall door, but no sooner had she closed that door than a man ran up, swooped his arm over the door and snatched her purse. Fortunately, the woman had only about $100 in cash and a few credit cards in her bag.

The Jewels on the Desk

According to police, a thief recently nabbed $4,200 in jewelry from a specialty store on Spring Street in Soho. Police say that while the owner’s attention was elsewhere, an unidentified thief lifted a $3,000 platinum and diamond ring and a $1,200 14-karat white gold mounting from the owner’s desk.

Don’t Trust a Friend With Your Wallet

A 23-year-old woman was whiling away the hours dancing at a bar on South Street recently when her wallet was stolen out of her friend’s purse. The friend told police she had left her bag on a chair while the pair jived and grooved. The woman canceled her cards after noticing a suspicious purchase at an MTA ticket machine.

Never Leave Your Bags Unattended

In a surprising move, a 69-year-old man told police that while at a beauty store in Soho one recent evening, he left his briefcase at the front of the shop and went on a 10-minute tour of the premises. When he returned, his bag was nowhere to be seen, and whoever might have taken it made off with a lot of loot. The briefcase reportedly contained a $2,000 Lenovo laptop, a $200 camera, $100 worth of drafting pens and pencils and a $150 tape measure.

Citizens’ Arrest

Police were called to the corner of Wall and Nassau Streets recently at almost 10 p.m. after receiving complaints from local residents that a man was excessively shouting. Police say that after the 21-year-old man refused to quiet down, they attempted to arrest him but he flailed his arms and legs. An officer was reportedly injured in the process.

Hold On to That iPhone

iPhone thefts—at least according to the complaints we look at—seem to mainly occur in the subway systems, where thieves not only have close access to the devices but usually a means of a quick getaway by stepping off the train at a stop. But in a recent NYPD case, a 24-year-old woman’s phone was taken from her while she was on the street. She told police that she was at the intersection of Spring and Wooster streets and had been intercepted a few times by a 25-year-old guy. When she attempted to cross the street, he ran by, snatched her iPhone and ran away. The woman told police that she attempted to use the Find My iPhone application but to no avail, as the phone was turned off.

Stolen Bike

A 40-year-old man was given a rude awakening recently when he wrapped up his workday. According to police, the man pulled up to the corner of Greenwich and Spring streets at 9:30 a.m. and parked his Yamaha R6 motorcycle. When he returned to the spot after work, he discovered that his bike, worth roughly $7,000, was stolen.

Walking into a wine bar can often feel a little daunting. You see a full list bursting with promise, but only a few names ring a bell. To the uneducated wine drinker, names like “rueda” and “refosco” remain mysterious grapes and blends we often skip in favor of better-known bottles, like pinot noir and sauvignon blanc. But at the two-month-old Tangled Vine, your glass of wine comes with not only the good feeling that most of the bottles are graced with organic or sustainable tipples, but with a healthy dose of education about what you are drinking.

The wine list alone is organized in an unusual way, from the lightest of the brews to the richest. But even with the comical and well-informed descriptions under each offering, the staff is more than happy to pair wine with food, or just to offer a glass you will love. I was lucky enough to spend a recent evening with Tangled Vine’s wine director, Evan Spingarn, as he taught me what went with which dish, and how different wines could really bring out the flavor of the food. With more than 160 types of mainly

The Tangled Vine offers more than 160 types of wines from Italy, Spain, France, Austria and Germany. Photo by Linnea Covingtonbiodynamic, organic and sustainable wines from Italy, Spain, France, Austria and Germany on the menu, I appreciated the wine 101.

We started with the restaurant’s signature plate, the fideos negros. Created by chef David Seigal, of Mercat and Jean Georges, this rich, squid-ink-blackened pile of small, thin noodles with braised cuttlefish and a potent garlic aioli was first paired with a light and bubbly cava brut natura ($10). Manager and wine expert Victoria Levin also brought over two reds, a sturdy dolcetto di dogliani ($12) and a glass of the fruitier ros di rol ($15). All three wines had different results for each of us. I preferred the basic, clean-cut dolcetto di doglaiani, which allowed the garlic and lush flavor of the squid ink to take charge of my palate. One of my dining companions liked the cava, which helped calm the richness of the dish with its bubbles. Our other diner went for the ros di rol, which was the most complex, as the juiciness tangoed with the savory part of the meal in a bold combo.

While we nibbled on crostini topped with perfectly smoky charred eggplant and red pepper with a light saba sauce ($6), the waiters bounced around the tables. They didn’t hesitate to answer guests’ questions about what might go well with the spring vegetable risotto ($16) or the mushroom fricassee ($16). Levin herself busied about the mainly female-packed restaurant, helping customers understand what certain wines were like and how to pair them.

Once we finished another round of crostini—this time a spicy and succulent sobresada and quail egg ($7) version—we opted for a round of sautéed pea shoots ($9) and pork montaditos ($10). The former, despite being heavy with butter, tasted fresh and was well balanced with a tossing of sweet raisins and salty pine nuts. Normally a big fan of pig, I found the pork belly sliders too rich for my blood. Maybe if the slathering of garlic dijonaise had been toned down, the meat in this dish would have shined through instead of getting buried in sauce. The organic veal meatballs ($14) were another story. Made with a great combo of light ricotta mixed with tender ground veal and bathed in a fresh tomato sauce, these treats harmonized perfectly with the glass of refosco ($10).

Three hours later, I was so full and brimming with wine lore that the thought of dessert melted away. Though next time, I look forward to trying the saffron panna cotta ($6) or ricotta cheesecake ($7). If they are anything like the rest of the food we had, I know they will taste divine.

Tangled Vine also offers an extensive cheese and charcuterie list ($17 to $29) and homemade, paprika-sprinkled potato chips, which I recommend munching on with a glass of apple crisp gruner veltliner ($8) as you peruse the menu. 

YOGI's S DREW DIVERSE CROSS-SECTION OF SOCIETY: MEN AND WOMEN, OLD AND YOUNG, YUPPIES AND BUMS, FOREIGNERS AND REGULARS, COLLEGE KIDS AND SPORTS NUTS. PHOTO BY: ADAM BLOCH

“I love it. I haven’t been to any bar in New York this fun,” said Sarah, one patron enjoying the final hours of Yogi’s on Saturday night. “It’s a good late-night place. I’ll never begin a night here, but this is where I’ll end it.”
Most of those present, though, preferred to focus on what made the place great.
“It’s a fun bar-people dancing on top of the bar, singing the same songs together,” said Cherif, a bouncer who has worked at Yogi’s for five months.
When he showed up around 10 p.m., one visitor immediately announced, “I am here to drink tonight, nothing else. I am going to get drunk.”
It was hardly a solitary sentiment. Yogi’s has always been about drinking and little else. With pitchers of Pabst Blue Ribbon sometimes going for less than $6, it was about as cheap as a bar gets on the Upper West Side. Those prices drew a diverse cross-section of society: men and women, old and young, yuppies and bums, foreigners and regulars, college kids and sports nuts.
And they were rarely put off by some of Yogi’s charming yet repellent features. The bathrooms were always disgusting, the floors littered with discarded peanut shells and the interior dim and dank. On the other hand, the bartenders often danced atop the counter and were always scantily clad. The music consisted entirely of country and rock classics played at ear-shattering levels. Outside, a small statue of a bear, one that matched a 12-foot version indoors, greeted visitors, along with a chalkboard that carried different witty puns every day. The rest of the décor included mostly beer paraphernalia and the occasional bra hanging from the ceiling.
Though rumors had swirled for months, nobody knew Yogi’s fate for sure until a sign was posted in the front window a few weeks ago announcing its closure. It said, in part, “Big money wins again. … Look for the bear in the neighborhood, we will be back.”
Alongside the sign, the bar’s countdown timer-customarily employed for New Year’s, St. Patrick’s Day and the arrival of The Allman Brothers Band for its annual visit to Beacon Theater-measured the days and hours until closure. The ownership plans to open a new bar called The Duck this week at Second Avenue between 111th and 112th streets.
This past weekend, though, some were fairly direct with their anger over the demise of Yogi’s, which is making way for a new apartment building.
“It’s becoming a cliché in New York to talk about gentrification, but when you lose a bar like that or any neighborhood institution and it’s replaced by generic bank branches and upscale cosmetics shops, I think it takes value off the table,” one regular said. “I don’t want to live in a generic American mall. I want to live in a neighborhood with some character.”
And Yogi’s certainly had plenty of that.