Every few decades, when the inevitable Wall Street cataclysm hits, the giant dinosaurs of the New York restaurant world begin to totter, and the tiny mammals start to peek their heads up in the smoke and scurry around the charred landscape. As the catchy, slightly twee name suggests, Apiary, which opened not long ago in the East Village, seems to have been designed with just such a catastrophe in mind. None of the dishes on the minimalist menu costs over $30, and the small space has been decorated with a dainty, economical hand. The miniature bar area offers a selection of price-sensitive wines and soothing Trappist ales, and it’s set off from the dining room with elegant but simple wooden shutters. There is a bright spray of flowers by the small kitchen entrance, and in the elfin-size dining room, three silver lampshades have been stenciled to reflect the shadows of oversize chandeliers on the walls. The effect is cheery and also slightly claustrophobic, like dining inside a modish, intricately appointed blast shelter.
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