Even Mr. Hipster is impressed by the number of hipsters in this joint. Odd little groups of short bearded dudes in black, plastic glasses, pea coats and long shoreman caps mingle with chicks in $200 strappy tops, those same black glasses (maybe in tortoise) and regretful back tattoos. Throw in your typical, hard NYC public relations biatches, who’d rather be outside smoking than temporarily choking down that stack of pancakes, and you pretty much have your crowd at Five Points. It’s much more pleasant than it sounds, but this is my recollection of the incredibly young, attractive people I spied on my way to my cool booth. It was ridiculous to the point where I felt that someone might call me ”sir” at any moment–respect your elders and all. There was a pleasant back room with what smelled like a fireplace, and the atmosphere in general was relaxed but bustling. My steak sandwich was very tasty, and I don’t recall leaving with my wallet on fire. Overall this was a nice, very New York experience that not only satisfied the appetite, but the snobbish soul that lies inside of all true New Yorkers. [MF]
