Today Frank Bruni ends his five year gig at the Times with a review of the Redhead, an East Village bar that gradually evolved into a casual restaurant with, some say, the best fried chicken in town. Quoth the Bruni: "It isn’t exactly like any other downtown restaurant I know—its semi-polished, Southern-inflected pub grub is all its own—but it sharply reflects a few of the most prominent and rewarding developments in Manhattan dining over the years during which I’ve had the privilege of serving as The Times’s restaurant critic.

"The Redhead speaks to the moment’s casual ethos. And it underscores the extent to which the East Village has become a center of gravity for young chefs intent on bold flavors." And the fried chicken? "Never greasy, almost always tender and unfailingly accessorized by something perfect: biscuits or cornbread or, my favorite, an onion-goat cheese bread pudding that’s like a dreamy amalgam of stuffing and quiche."

Ligaya Mishan at the Times files a $25 and under review on two new Brooklyn taquerias, Calexico (Red Hook), and Oaxaca (Cobble Hill), finding praise-worthy elements at both. The Village Voice's Robert Sietsema loves Saraghina, a new Bed-Stuy trattoria/pizzeria that "outdoes many of its more pretentious brethren... With no claims to making the 'true pizza of Naples,' these dudes are smart enough to concoct pies that resemble that city's in the fine texture of the bread and simplicity of the ingredients, while being a bit larger and hence more shareable."

New York's Adam Platt has an "undistinguished, though intermittently entertaining" experience at Graydon Carter's latest celebrity circle-jerk, Monkey Bar: "If you want a chunk of flaccid, radically under-charred New York strip, that will cost you $48, too (frites are $12 extra)... Not that anyone in the restaurant’s crowded VIP section seemed to notice these transgressions. 'Is Mark Ronson actually eating this stuff?' someone at the table muttered, as we peered up from our dinners at the scruffy D.J. demigod, who was sitting not far from the former Doogie Howser, M.D. (Neil Patrick Harris), who was seated, obliviously, next to an animated-looking Salman Rushdie. The usual answer, in celebrity hangouts like this, is, who the hell cares if the stars are eating or not? Once a scene restaurant like Michael’s or Mr. Chow achieves critical mass, people will ingest almost anything to be part of the show."