East Side Showroom is one of the most delightful evenings in town. As your eyes adjust, surprising and evocative images take shape: the bar’s shelving unit is filled with backlit bottles of colorful liquid, like in a fin de siècle apothecary; a looming submarine-periscope-meets-milking-jugs brass contraption houses the tap system for beer. Edgy art adorns the walls; upon one, a silent film flickers. Chairs are framed by whimsical rebar curves, and shabby upholstery in red, green, and black stripes might appear in a Tim Burton film set in Montmartre.

Any excuse to sit on the adorable, unevenly bricked patio would be great—fortunately, this cocktail program is one of the city’s best. It was among the first to employ proper glassware, slow-melting ice, small-batch spirits, careful muddling, and capable egg-white frothing. An ever-changing lineup of beer is served at the correct temperature, while some esoteric, artisanal wines make excellent pairings for this menu.

The “nouvelle rustique” food changes by season and availability. A chalkboard lists a soup of the day (always a treat, whatever it is), a daily gratin (like cauliflower and fondue), homemade charcuterie, and terrific dessert. Lamb burgers are wonderfully seasoned, cooked just right, and served with a creamy chèvre; salads are lightly dressed and full of intriguing flavors. We wonder: would the food be as likable if not in this exceedingly charming space? And then we think: who cares?