Holy crap, it’s The Gaf! Who knew that under all the moldy pennants, stuffed donkeys, bowling trophies and 34 inches of dirt that was Pedro’s lay the twin of a bar not ten blocks away. When good old Frances finally gave up and sold Pedro’s to what seems like yet another carbon-copy UES Irish barkeep, patrons had no idea what to expect. Now we know, and we’re not surprised that it is still the tiny, inviting dump that it always was — just with less sneezing and no old drunk lady playing video poker in the corner. Rumor has it that Frances asked to be sealed behind the new wood paneling on the Northern wall, but nobody cares, because the jukebox is still one of the best around and the place now has cool old chandeliers. Of course those may have been there the entire time, but nobody could see them through the cobwebs, soot and cigarette smoke. [MF]
301 E 91st St.
212/831-1788
