It seems I'd been to The Tippler once before. The basement space, decorated like a Baz Luhrmann film, is very memorable. Yet my memory failed me. It was vaguely...
There was a time in the early nineties when every white guy on earth thought he could get away with wearing dress headwear. I went out in 1990 and bought myself...
It's an ironic name (kind of like the mustache on that dude hanging in the doorway), but also a pun. Get it? It's a subterranean bar (the first "up) and "up" is...
Being a bar in NYC must be tough. First, there are like a million of them. Second, even when you think you have some sort of unique take on a bar, there are pro...
The Smith certainly didn't try too hard in the naming category. Especially considering there are four locations in NYC, including the East Village location whic...
Fancy doesn't usually fly in the East Village. Or maybe that's my 1995 brain talking. But, as it stands, Drexler's is certainly more on the fancy side than it i...
There was a time when Avenue C was a place where you'd be more likely to score crack than a nice cocktail. I don't even know if crack is still a thing, but the ...
I've probably walked by this Hobbit-lookin' dump a thousand times in my wanderings over the past twenty years. The bar's exterior kind of looks like the outside...
The Dutch is a joint that doesn't try to be anything other than what it is. How's that for a non-committal, god-awful intro to a restaurant review? So, Mr. Hips...
It's not enough that I walk into work every day and feel goddamn ancient. Then I have to go to an early bird dinner for a drink and a burger and have to be bomb...
My buddy suggested we go to the Rusty Knot, a bar in the West Village called "The Rusty Knot!" Wait, that's not a euphemism for a butthole? But it's a rusty. Kn...
No, but seriously, what the fuck is going on here? A small group of us stopped in here towards the end of the night out of sheer curiosity and outright conf...
I’m not usually a huge fan of Rande Gerber bars. I mean Whiskey Blue, the only other of his bars I’ve actually been to, seemed too trendy and overblown for ...
Here, once again, is a restaurant at which I didn't eat a thing. I just kind of sat back with a beer and soaked in the gay. It's not as if I'm a burly mountain ...
Never in the history of bardom has a space morphed so dramatically. Walking to dinner in the Meatpacking District one night, we passed a couple gregarious d...
Yes, I know it's a formula, but for me it never gets old. Of course sticking the French bistro thing a la Pastis, Balthazar and Lucky Strike on the Lower East S...
This place is more confused than Jamie Lee Curtis' first gynecologist. Is it a restaurant or a bar? Is it hip, or is it a cast-off of a bygone era of kitschy Je...
It sounds like the name of some bad 80s movie. Oh, I'm totally projecting and thinking of that late-night, cable stinker, Star 80. Sometimes the mind free ass...
