I like a bar where, after you sit down, the first thing the bartender does is stick out his hand and introduce himself. "We like to know our customers' names," says Anthony Ilacqua, as if that's standard operating procedure at watering holes around town. It's not, but at the Thin Man, everyone is a regular -- or should be. This City Park joint, named for Dashiell Hammett's classic 1930s tale of murder in Manhattan, goes out of its way to be neighborly, hosting offbeat film screenings every Sunday and the popular "stitch and bitch" knitting group on Monday nights. And then there are the large jugs of fruit-infused vodkas -- from lemon to apricot to mango -- lining the shelf behind the long marble bar. The Cantaloupe Martini ($7) mixes melon-flavored vodka with a dash of simple syrup, then serves it shaken and up in a chilled martini glass; one sip was enough to make me vow to return. As for the religious iconography of the Virgin Mary and the Last Supper lining the walls, Ilacqua, who has tended bar since the Thin Man opened three years ago, explains, "If you can't drink with the saints, who can you drink with?" Good question.