Royale   

The owners of the nearby Cafecito converted the former C-note, a jazzy bar with sometimes live cheesy music, and kept the cheese. This pub is named after the Royale with cheese because it prides itself on its burgers, which are neither huge nor garnished with any special toppings -- they just, in burger-jargon, taste good. The rest of the bar menu is nothing worth snapping your camera phone over, with the likes of BLTs and steak frites rearing their familiar faces. A twentysomething East Village crowd huddles over draft pints of Blue Moon and cans of Pork Slap, a farmhouse ale from Cooperstown. Don't bother trying to see if your hair is alright in the mirrors above the banquettes -- the place is too dark -- you'll have better luck in the small garden out back. Besides, do you really think that Led Zeppelin's Robert Plant or CCR's John Fogerty, both blasting from the jukebox, really cared what their hair looked like back in the 1960s? (Plant, yes; Fogerty, no).