Thank God for the greasepit. Thank God for the unpretentious, no holds barred dump. Thank God for cranky waitresses who will endlessly berate the Knicks for being the piece of shit team they have always been and always will be. Paul’s Palace is a Godsend, there is no doubt. Their burgers are cooked under upside down metal ice cream dishes and the space has some sort of moving monkey (or something) on a unicycle that is suspended above eater’s heads on a tight rope. The burgers are lighter than air and the ambiance is straight out of the old school New Yawk days of graffitied subway cars and whores in Times Square. A palace this joint certainly isn’t, but their delicious burgers and extremely cheap beers will make anyone feel like they have the divine right to eat and drink like a king. [MF]
131 2nd Ave.