The Polo Bar

The Polo Bar opened in early 2015 at 1 East 55th Street, behind Ralph Lauren's Fifth Avenue flagship, and was at once the hardest table in town. Adam Platt, then New York magazine's critic, was told the next table was weeks away, and that the best on offer was two at five o'clock. There were already a Ralph's in Paris and an RL in Chicago, and much of the look and the cooking came from the latter.

Upstairs is a small wood-panelled bar with jockey photographs and horse portraits, where the cocktails come in heavy glasses with swizzle sticks shaped like polo mallets. A lacquered staircase leads down to the dining room: butterscotch leather banquettes, tartan pillows, polo mallets and saddles by the coat check, plates printed with the name. It is Ralph Lauren's idea of a club, and nobody pretends otherwise.

Instead of bread there are hot Gruyère popovers.

The food is comfort done properly. Instead of bread there are hot Gruyère popovers. Platt's ideal meal was the kale Caesar, then the roast chicken or Ralph's corned-beef sandwich with fries in a silver cup, then the Polo Bar brownie. The wine list leans toward trophies, with thirty-one Champagnes when it opened and a long run of California Cabernet.

Tables open thirty days ahead. Why it impresses: the room is full of people who could eat anywhere, and they chose the corned beef.

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