Wood-paneled bar populated by regulars? Check. Dining room populated by artists, writers, activists, and bohemians? Check. Atmospheric lighting and fading murals of Venetian canals filled with gondolas? Check. Career waiters in vests and neckties? Check. A reliable menu of red-sauce-joint staples such as clams oreganata, veal parmigiana, chicken francese, and manicotti? Check. Gene’s has been around since 1919, and some its customers almost as long. Well, maybe not quite literally. But in the best possible way, the clientele puts the old in old-school. This place is as real as the pre-tech, pre-finance-bro Greenwich Village gets, baby. Gene’s engenders lifelong loyalty because it is the definition of a reliable, welcoming neighborhood restaurant. It isn’t cheap, but the drinks are stiff and the entrées are generously portioned and come with a side of pasta or vegetables du jour. A quiet classic. —David Kamp

David Kamp is a Writer at Large at AIR MAIL and the author of several books, including The United States of Arugula: The Sun Dried, Cold Pressed, Dark Roasted, Extra Virgin Story of the American Food Revolution