Bayside Restaurant

Bayside sits on the harbor like a tuxedoed host who knows when to loosen his tie. You come for the halibut with a mushroom crust that flakes like good news, and you stay because the soufflee arrives steaming and ridiculous. Evenings are scored with soulful jazz from the bandstand by the bar; brunches are a Champagne Sunday ritual, sun-drunk and loud in the best way. The patio wraps the room and the heaters keep the chill off long enough for long meals and bad decisions. Service can be impeccable, and on peak nights the kitchen runs at a furious clip, which means some tables get food together and some do not. There is artwork on the walls for sale, valet to drop you at the door, and an appetite at the host stand for reservations that sometimes exceeds seats. Ask for a harbor-side patio table at sunset.