Speaking of misguided markets, the newish Holy Foods on the Bowery is easily a lower level of hell. I wandered in to warm up on a brutally cold afternoon and wound up almost weeping trying to get out — the place is ridiculously huge and Pan’s labyrinthine in its layout. Not to mention scarily empty. I had stupidly thought I might be able to at least pick up some fish for dinner while thawing my digits, but the surprisingly understocked case was looking rather ready to meet its mortician (marked-down Dungeness crab in particular struck me as rent-a-meal). Clearly, what this city needs most is the neighborhood-wrecking fifth St. Peter’s going in near me.