The reliable: Mermaid Inn, where I met a genius friend who is increasingly appreciating the lure of Demon Wine and where our usual server in the back room tacitly helped by pouring us to-the-brim glasses of the $12 Gruner. She also tipped us off to the changes in prep for the salmon and skate, and Pam went for the latter, braised on the cartilage with tomatoes, garlic and saffron and quite good. I, of course, had to eat like a home-alone child with the special fish and chips, which at least was excellent as usual. 568 Amsterdam Avenue near 88th Street, 212 799 7400.

The painful: Fatty Crab uptown, where a dieting friend and I connected to chagrin for her and aural abuse for me. She was the neighborhood moth drawn to the flame of the new, only to realize not much on the menu would make Weight Watchers happy; I was the uncharacteristically accommodating pal who by the end was ready to shoot out the speakers. Unlike downtown, the music was not just loud but pretty lame, but as she noted, all you could hear was bass. Booming bass. Add to that kiddle waiters (propellers would be appropriate on some caps) who came by every five minutes to ask if we were “still working on that.” As for the food, my memory must be faulty. I don’t recall so many bean sprouts padding out the excellent mango salad downtown, or such a skimpy portion of the fatty duck (I loved it although I don’t think it was the freshest thing in the kitchen). The “watercress,” as the waiter translated it, was perfection, though. We left debating whether the place would do well in a neighborhood where value notoriously trumps just about anything. But maybe we were grumpy because we settled for two dainty glasses of the $9 Gruner each rather than risking a $50-plus bottle of something unfamiliar. That list must have been written pre-Madoff. WIGB? Well, my consort will want to try it. And we have nothing to talk about when we go out. . . . 2176 Broadway near 77th Street, 212 496 2722.