What do Tom Hanks, Keith Richards and Gwyneth Paltrow have in common? This classic Italian restaurant on 84th and 2nd. In fact, Ms P likes the place so much she held her 40th birthday celebrations there, though that show of devotion is as nothing when compared to Tom Selleck’s: the moustachioed Magnum PI actor once ate there for 26 nights in a row). So what is it that the A-list love about Elio’s? It’s the bustlingly familiar neighbourhood feel and the old-school, boisterous conviviality of staff and clientele. Saluti!

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Praline Butter Cake, Brown Sugar Cookie-Dough Chunk, Bourbon Cherries Jubilee, Chocolate Fudge Brownie, and even Royal Wedding Cake – if your imagination can crave it, Van Leeuwen can create gourmet ice cream out of it. (There are also exquisite versions of plain old Strawberry, Salted Caramel, Honeycomb, Sicilian Pistachio and the rest.) Gelato this good should not be restricted to summer afternoons – and with opening hours extending until midnight seven days a week, this little ice-cream café makes the perfect climax to date night. (And good news, Gwynnie! it’s only two doors down from Elio’s).

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Drink in the history – and some rather splendid cocktails – at this Upper East Side institution. This part of town isn’t short of storied old haunts, but Bemelmans has arguably the richest history of any of them: since just after WWII, it’s been tucked discreetly into The Carlyle (yes, the hotel where everyone from JFK to Jagger has kept a suite) and home to a procession of New York’s finest jazz performers. The hotel’s Café Carlyle has a more varied roster (including, on Monday nights, Woody Allen and his band), but it’s Bemelmans that brings the atmosphere, with its murals painted by Madeline illustrator Ludwig Bemelmans in 1947 in exchange for board and lodgings.

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Come the weekend, this perfect little gastropub has you covered all the way from avocado toast and eggs Benedict at 9.30 in the morning to White Mezcal Negroni and Dirty Pickle Martini at 3 (also am!). The kitchen, in fact, doesn’t close until way after midnight, but you’ll want to be here for brunch when there are multiple variations on the Bloody Mary to choose from, and a sensational buttermilk chicken and waffle with honey butter, rosemary and maple syrup. The crowd is young and hip – for the genteel Upper East Side, at least – but this place is as unfussily friendly as its chefs’ day is long.

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The Met is the grand old lady of Manhattan museums (how grand? Well, it’s got room for an entire ancient Egyptian temple – surrounded by an actual moat – in just one of its dozens of galleries). With some two million artefacts and 5,000 years of art history at your disposal, you’ll certainly find something you love; but its Central Park location, famously packed-lunch-worthy entrance steps and rooftop garden (with unrivalled Midtown views) mean even Rembrandt refuseniks will be happy. Ideally, allow yourself a fortnight at The Met; realistically, you’ll need most of a day.

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Shop clever – really clever – at this formidable mainly French-language bookshop that’s part of the French Embassy’s cultural services division (but feels a world away from anywhere). Hidden in the historic Payne Whitney House at Central Park’s 79th Street entrance, the place feels more ‘time-warp library’ than ‘shop’. Under a stunning blue-purple ceiling painted with the night sky’s constellations, leather armchairs entice and some 14,000 tomes tempt. Some are in English, but for ultimate coffee-table kudos, stick to the French ones, non?

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Not only is ‘1CP’ mere seconds from New York City’s largest lawn, but it practically brings the park indoors with its plush rustic-chic vibe: think reclaimed woods, sculpted terrariums, natural fabrics in calming taupe and grey, and antique brass fittings against whitewashed brick walls. There’s a market stall in the lobby for stocking up on farm-fresh foodie goodies, as well as gourmet picnic baskets on offer for outings to the park. The glass-walled toilets that put you on show to the rest of the room might be a bit too much of a return-to-nature for some, but your roommate won’t be looking anyway – not with these views of Central Park.

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If the Upper East Side’s air of decorous Europhile refinement has an epicentre, it’s Ladurée. The word ‘patisserie’ doesn’t do justice to the delicacy of its confections, but close your eyes, inhale one of its trademark, light-as-air macarons, and you’ll be back on the boulevards of Paris in all their decadent Second Empire glory. Post-pandemic, you can have your treats couriered pretty much anywhere in Manhattan, but that would miss the point. Settle into the velvet-decked booths for the afternoon instead and by the time you emerge, you’ll half expect to see horses and carriages on the street outside.

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If you only visit one shop in New York... you’re crazy. But make it this grande dame of department stores, whose ‘new’ building has been here for a hundred-odd years and which now spreads out over two city blocks. Lauren Bacall, Marilyn Monroe and Sandra Bullock have all been seen on screen on the shop floor and it’s practically the fifth star of the second Sex and the City film – though clearly the most important diva endorsement comes from Miss Piggy in The Muppets Take Manhattan. And what to buy? Well why not start with a few dainties from The House of Creed, Chanel, Gucci, Versace, Armani, Tom Ford, YSL...

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The perfect Central Park viewing pad, the Loews Regency is new with a touch of ‘old’; dating from 1963, it recently re-opened after a year-long $100 million refurbishment. Which means classic Upper East Side elegance, much bigger rooms than you would get at a newer joint, the same discreetly faultless service enjoyed by Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton on their frequent stays – and New York’s quintessential ‘power breakfast’. (The phrase and concept originated here; Hillary Clinton is among those still hitting The Regency Bar and Grill for executive decisions over silkily brilliant eggs Benedict.)

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Nobody puts Manet in a corner – and at the Guggenheim, there’s no need to, because its rounded walls mean there’s no corner to be found. Opened in 1959, Frank Lloyd Wright’s design (like a pneumatic space-age ziggurat, but upside-down) shocked at the time and still scintillates today. Peruse the collection’s Picassos, Cezannes, Kandinskys – and Manets – on a gracefully spiralling amble from top to bottom. The entry price may be steep but the slope is gentle, and the seasonal programmes are brilliantly curated and expertly explained: think of it as the ultimate learning curve.

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You can, of course, do it all in Central Park. Want to ice-skate? The Lasker and Wollman rinks open from late October to early April. Row boats? Loeb Boathouse rents out crafts from April to November. Shakespeare in the Park? At the open-air theatre, from May to August. Ride the painted ponies? The Friedsam Memorial Carousel spins from April through to October, and at weekends only from November to March. But for a true like-the-locals weekend afternoon, head for Heckscher Ballfields. Here, just three minutes’ walk from the out-of-towners paying $40 for one course at The Tavern on the Green, you’ll find the Ballfields Café: $8 burgers, local beers and great cocktails on a terrace overlooking enthusiastic amateur baseball players. It’s a home run!

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In a city where food fads often explode and then fade out again within weeks, ceviche seems to be weathering the storm – possibly because the Peruvian tradition of curing raw fish in citrus juices is as healthy as it is tongue-tinglingly delicious. Rockstar-handsome chef José Luis Chávez was there as the trend kicked off, around 2015, with a couple of downtown food-market takeaway stalls, but he now has an uptown restaurant, where the lime-and-rocoto-chilli marinades are good enough to drink neat. (Peruvian legend has it that those brave enough to down this ‘tiger’s milk’ concoction can expect to perform like one in the bedroom.)

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Neat lawns, formal gardens, forested ravines, rushing waterfalls, boating lakes, skating rinks, a swimming pool, cycling tracks, castles, carousels, Shakespeare plays, street dance, snow leopards, penguins, posers, huggers, muggers, joggers, jokers, buskers, tarot readers, Hare Krishnas, hot-dog vans, Van Goghs, Diana Ross, Ramesses the Great, John Lennon, Jackie O, Alice in Wonderland, the President, the whole goddam world – you’d need a lifetime to ‘do’ Central Park, but Bethesda Terrace is perhaps its bonkers beating heart. Home to those professional huggers ($1 per hug), jokers ($1 per joke) and advice-givers ($2!), the stately stone terrace was designed as the park’s main gathering place – and remains a melting pot within a melting pot.

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