Hannah Goldfield: Beachy Cocktails at Battery Harris, in Williamsburg: The New Yorker The Black River, a cocktail at Battery Harris, in Williamsburg, is so well advertised ("rum, cinnamon syrup, splash of Coke, Angostura bitters, lime") and so sexily served (in a rocks glass, with a cinnamon-stick swizzle) that you might not realize, until you take a sip, that it's a dressed-up rum-and-Coke. This works as a metaphor for the bar itself: you might not realize, until you explore the expansive back patio, just how close it is to the B.Q.E. (It used to be a gas station.) Inside, the vibe is beachy, with tiki furniture, thatched ceiling fans, and a dollar-a-game pool table; the owners, who grew up in the Rockaways, named it for a bunker at Fort Tilden. The kitchen serves excellent Jamaican-Latin fare, including flaky baked patties, plantain nachos, and a jerk-chicken plate with coriander slaw and coconut corn bread. The Black River is in good company with the Ocho Rios, made with tequila, Aperol, cayenne salt, and cilantro, and the White House, a bracingly herbal concoction of rum, Fernet-Branca, and coconut cream. After a few drinks, the shadow cast by the looming highway seems almost romantic, in a dystopian sort of way. ♦