Sure I may be kind of old to hang out in a bar this close to NYU, but when has that ever stopped me? Shit, they let me into the Chuck E. Cheese’s ballpit, so why not this joint? It’s not as if this place has a stringent door policy (unlike those bastards at ‘Cheese’s’), but I’m always paranoid about coming off as ‘that’ guy. You know, the old dude who always came up for homecoming weekend whose stares lingered just a little too long on the nubile undergrads? Granted the only thing to ogle in V Bar on this evening were a couple of ultra-nerdy dudes with blogging apparatus and D&D flop sweat. They literally sat at the end of the tiny bar snapping photos with a giant digital SLR of candles and wine glasses while talking about like quantum confusion. The bartender fiddled with the iPod or laptop playing tunes, checked his fantasy team and chatted with us in between running out small plates of cheese and fruit to a few patrons sitting at the small seating area. I have to say that the whole thing was beyond pleasant. The space has a homey, worn comfortableness that feels honest and real. The shelves filled with Nietzsche and crap give it a studious air, and the patrons–despite all my conjecture–are actually more philosophy grad than psych undergrad. I wonder if the owners know how much some places pay for that kind of ambiance? The vibe was very mellow without being sleepy, and the wine selection plentiful. For a bar in the middle of what should be kiddy hell, I just can’t imagine a more adult place to spend an evening. [MF]
225 Sullivan St.