We adore the old-school neon, and the where-everybody-knows-your-name feel at this definitive, century-old neighborhood joint. But more than anything we love the barbecued shrimp—the bowl of colossal, buttery crustaceans that made Manale (mu-nah-lee). Make sure you get them (schedule a long workout tomorrow), some turtle soup, and—trust us—classic spaghetti and meatballs while you’re at it, but start the meal at the oyster bar. The bivalves might be frigid (in contrast to their effect, some might say), but if Thomas “Uptown T” is shucking, his repartee is hot. Ask him anything, and your party is officially started. When it’s crowded it can be boisterous—it’s the kind of place where neighboring tables spontaneously converse here, but unlike at a cozy bistro, it’s a welcome intrusion (people eat with their hands and wear bibs here, fer Pete’s sake).