Rye Bunny

Rye Bunny comes from the team behind Tail Up Goat, and it borrows that restaurant's confidence while inventing its own format: order at the bar, seat yourself, then let waiters run drinks and clear plates like it's full service. The room plays into that in-between feeling too, wicker baskets and mismatched Windsor chairs giving it the loose, homey look of a roadside stop that happens to plate anchovy toast on milk bread with blood orange confit.

The cooking is where the place earns its keep. Pesto-drenched lion's mane mushrooms and fried chicken with black garlic aioli and chili jelly aren't comfort food playing it safe — they're comfort food pushed until it's close to perfect. The menu turns over with the seasons, parsnips buried in apple one visit, mint worked into something else the next, and the kitchen's instincts hold up across the changes.

The complaints are real: portions run small, and the bill can feel steep for what lands on the table. Neither undoes what's working. Service stays warm and sure-footed through a format that could easily feel confusing, and the Michelin Guide has already taken notice. Rye Bunny knows exactly what it's doing.