Old Lady 35
Well, readers. It's official. I am old. Quite possibly I am even older than just plain old. It may be that I am officially a geriatric trapped inside the body of a 35-year old woman. Okay, perhaps I exaggerate.
Nonetheless, I am no longer 25. This realization sprang forth from the depths of denial as Mrs. O, HA and I shared a pitcher of frozen margaritas at el Sombrero (aka The Hat) on Friday night. The restaurant sits on the corner of Ludlow and Stanton Streets on the Lower East Side. That little mischief maker, rumor, once whispered that The Hat's frozen margaritas are made with grain alcohol.
Around 10:00 on Friday, we were wandering the Lower East Side in search of food, when Mrs. O asked, "Should we stop and have a lethal margarita!?" I told her she was the birthday girl, and we could do whatever she wanted. (Happy Birthday, Mrs. O!)
The evening had started at 7:00 at Cherry Tavern on East 6th Street where I had a Jameson's on the rocks and Mrs. O had her trademark Bud in a bottle. We were waiting for a table at Death and Company a few doors down. Cherry Tavern is a dark dive bar with a pool table in back and a friendly bartender with great style. Nothing fancy, but perfect for a low key drink.
I was excited to finally make it to Death and Company, which is well known for its extensive cocktail menu. With help from the waitress, I chose the Cooper Union, a mix of Red Breast Irish Whiskey and St. Germaine Elderflower Liqueur with a Laphroig rinse and a dash of orange bitters, served neat in a rocks glass. Boy howdy that is a superb cocktail. HA ordered the gin-based European Union, and Mrs. O indulged in a tequila concoction, both of which were equally tasty. Death and Company has raised mixology to a level of art.
The food, however, is not worth the bother of placing an order. We tried two "bites:" the empanadas and the tempura cauliflower. Both were heavily fried, greasy and disappointing.
Unfortunately, the food was not our only disappointment. We were seated in the last booth, which was outside the kitchen door. The opening and closing of the doors, the unending stream of employees coming and going (some apparently for no reason) and the bright light made our experience unpleasant. I always find it ridiculous when restaurants or bars even place a table in such an awkward, uncomfortable place. Is the small bit of extra revenue worth turning off potentially regular patrons?
From East 6th Street, we wandered downtown and randomly landed at Mehanata, a Bulgarian dance bar that used to be on Canal and Broadway. Now, it's on Ludlow between Rivington and Delancey. The bar was empty because they had just opened. Spastic colored laser lights bounced around the dark rustic space while we enjoyed $2 recession wine from plastic cups and discussed psychics and astrology.
It was just after that we ended up at The Hat ordering a pitcher of lethal margaritas and Mexican food. If you live in New York, you know it's not possible to find Mexican food that is authentic and tasty without paying a lot of money. What's more shocking is the prevalence of bad guacamole. The Hat serves a strangely colored, beaten smooth mixture that feels weird in your mouth and tastes like a mystery seasoning packet. My brother K. and I discussed this phenomenon earlier this evening, wondering if they make powdered avocado like mash potatoes in a box.
The chips were no better than the guacamole, and the salsa spicy but not flavorful. The tacos were okay. The rice was a neon orange color which is certainly not natural. Alas, we were starved and tipsy, and we stuffed ourselves. Even if the margaritas were lethal, they were soaked up and their effect mitigated.
While we ate, Mrs. O and I complained that the Lower East Side, like parts of the East Village, has become young, crowded, loud and annoying. It was then that I realized the last time Mrs. O and I had been at The Hat was probably nine years ago. That evening so long ago, we went to Torch, which ironically burned down several years back; Lansky Lounge, which is no longer open; and The Hat which is going strong.
I laughed and told Mrs. O that the Lower-East-Side evening-out demographic is the same; it's just that we are about ten years older than when we started hanging out there. About two hours later, I was drinking water and nearly sleeping on the beautiful stone bar at Rayuela on Allen between Rivington and Stanton Streets. It was only 12:30.
Old.
Rayuela is gorgeous with elements of wire, stone and wood in the decor. Happily, they also have a great dessert menu. After all, it's not a birthday celebration without dessert. So, we topped of our guts and our evening with Chocolate Cortazr (fabulous!) and Banana tres Leches (good, but not my style).
While we ate, we watched the bartender mix up several specialty cocktails, which look delicious. I've added Rayuela to my list of places to try for drinks and dinner.
It was nice to end our evening of celebrating at a lovely restaurant with a good bar. Sure, ten years ago we would have been out until 4:00 or 5:00 a.m., probably ending in a loud bar full of twenty-somethings. But as V. said yesterday, "I like an an early night." Me too. Which is why we split a bottle of wine and had amazing vegan food at Wild Ginger at 5:00 on a Saturday.
Ha, ha! That's the week! Stay tuned!
Well, readers. It's official. I am old. Quite possibly I am even older than just plain old. It may be that I am officially a geriatric trapped inside the body of a 35-year old woman. Okay, perhaps I exaggerate.
Nonetheless, I am no longer 25. This realization sprang forth from the depths of denial as Mrs. O, HA and I shared a pitcher of frozen margaritas at el Sombrero (aka The Hat) on Friday night. The restaurant sits on the corner of Ludlow and Stanton Streets on the Lower East Side. That little mischief maker, rumor, once whispered that The Hat's frozen margaritas are made with grain alcohol.
Around 10:00 on Friday, we were wandering the Lower East Side in search of food, when Mrs. O asked, "Should we stop and have a lethal margarita!?" I told her she was the birthday girl, and we could do whatever she wanted. (Happy Birthday, Mrs. O!)
The evening had started at 7:00 at Cherry Tavern on East 6th Street where I had a Jameson's on the rocks and Mrs. O had her trademark Bud in a bottle. We were waiting for a table at Death and Company a few doors down. Cherry Tavern is a dark dive bar with a pool table in back and a friendly bartender with great style. Nothing fancy, but perfect for a low key drink.
I was excited to finally make it to Death and Company, which is well known for its extensive cocktail menu. With help from the waitress, I chose the Cooper Union, a mix of Red Breast Irish Whiskey and St. Germaine Elderflower Liqueur with a Laphroig rinse and a dash of orange bitters, served neat in a rocks glass. Boy howdy that is a superb cocktail. HA ordered the gin-based European Union, and Mrs. O indulged in a tequila concoction, both of which were equally tasty. Death and Company has raised mixology to a level of art.
The food, however, is not worth the bother of placing an order. We tried two "bites:" the empanadas and the tempura cauliflower. Both were heavily fried, greasy and disappointing.
Unfortunately, the food was not our only disappointment. We were seated in the last booth, which was outside the kitchen door. The opening and closing of the doors, the unending stream of employees coming and going (some apparently for no reason) and the bright light made our experience unpleasant. I always find it ridiculous when restaurants or bars even place a table in such an awkward, uncomfortable place. Is the small bit of extra revenue worth turning off potentially regular patrons?
From East 6th Street, we wandered downtown and randomly landed at Mehanata, a Bulgarian dance bar that used to be on Canal and Broadway. Now, it's on Ludlow between Rivington and Delancey. The bar was empty because they had just opened. Spastic colored laser lights bounced around the dark rustic space while we enjoyed $2 recession wine from plastic cups and discussed psychics and astrology.
It was just after that we ended up at The Hat ordering a pitcher of lethal margaritas and Mexican food. If you live in New York, you know it's not possible to find Mexican food that is authentic and tasty without paying a lot of money. What's more shocking is the prevalence of bad guacamole. The Hat serves a strangely colored, beaten smooth mixture that feels weird in your mouth and tastes like a mystery seasoning packet. My brother K. and I discussed this phenomenon earlier this evening, wondering if they make powdered avocado like mash potatoes in a box.
The chips were no better than the guacamole, and the salsa spicy but not flavorful. The tacos were okay. The rice was a neon orange color which is certainly not natural. Alas, we were starved and tipsy, and we stuffed ourselves. Even if the margaritas were lethal, they were soaked up and their effect mitigated.
While we ate, Mrs. O and I complained that the Lower East Side, like parts of the East Village, has become young, crowded, loud and annoying. It was then that I realized the last time Mrs. O and I had been at The Hat was probably nine years ago. That evening so long ago, we went to Torch, which ironically burned down several years back; Lansky Lounge, which is no longer open; and The Hat which is going strong.
I laughed and told Mrs. O that the Lower-East-Side evening-out demographic is the same; it's just that we are about ten years older than when we started hanging out there. About two hours later, I was drinking water and nearly sleeping on the beautiful stone bar at Rayuela on Allen between Rivington and Stanton Streets. It was only 12:30.
Old.
Rayuela is gorgeous with elements of wire, stone and wood in the decor. Happily, they also have a great dessert menu. After all, it's not a birthday celebration without dessert. So, we topped of our guts and our evening with Chocolate Cortazr (fabulous!) and Banana tres Leches (good, but not my style).
While we ate, we watched the bartender mix up several specialty cocktails, which look delicious. I've added Rayuela to my list of places to try for drinks and dinner.
It was nice to end our evening of celebrating at a lovely restaurant with a good bar. Sure, ten years ago we would have been out until 4:00 or 5:00 a.m., probably ending in a loud bar full of twenty-somethings. But as V. said yesterday, "I like an an early night." Me too. Which is why we split a bottle of wine and had amazing vegan food at Wild Ginger at 5:00 on a Saturday.
Ha, ha! That's the week! Stay tuned!
I've worked with a bartender from Death and Company! Go to 'drink recipes' and scroll down to The Vipera: http://www.usapears.org/cocktails It's delish.
ReplyDelete