An Evening At: Home Sweet Home

Home Sweet Home. The name says it all. Or does it? Descend down an unmarked staircase on Chrystie Street, just a stone's throw from the Cube, and speak to the dude collecting cash outside the door. The party tonight is $5, and everyone is paying. We're not special. Open the door and survey the scene: low ceiling, taxidermy scattered this way and that, hipster bartenders, and Suicide looking Girls writhing this way and that. OK. The room is wide, then very narrow, then wide in the back. Dumb bell steez. While the music was outstanding and the bartenders attentive, the night just never got going. With just a few couches scattered every which way, it was difficult to find a home base, and in a small room, that's a problem. Its ok, though. These things happen. We stayed for a bit more but realized it wasn't the night, and headed for the door. When we left in the wee hours of the morning, there was a line 15 deep waiting to get in, all of em just looking for a home.

An Evening At: Radegast

On a chilly night in early January, DBTH trekked to the quiet corner of 3rd and Berry in Williamsburg to hoist a few heavy mugs of hearty Bavarian brew at the borough's newest biergarten, Radegast. Surprisingly, the place was rather empty when we arrived and seemed to stay that way throughout the night. No matter. We were there to drink and be merry and on those accounts, all was successful. The main room hods the bar and numerous tables for ordering off the proper menu, which is rather small and a bit fancy for our beer garden liking. The second room, which the staff calls outside, is where the main action is. Long picnic tables line the narrow space, and in the back lies the mighty grill, with a grill meister serving up traditional brats and kielbasa. Now we're talking Germany (and other nearby countries too). The important thing to remember is you aren't here to mess around. Sit down, order a liter of beer, and get to drinking. That's what it's all about. The 'outside' is sure to pick up as the temperature rises and the retractable roof comes into play. We celebrate the opening of a new traditional beer hall in the City, and will definitely be making a return appearance.

An Evening At: Socialista

Last night, we were invited by the good folks at Radar to a little shimmy at Socialista, Armin's little commie outpost on the edges of the West Village. It was our first time being there, and we have to say we were quite taken with the place. Downstairs is for the food, and upstairs is for the drink. You know where we're heading. To the doorman, where we rolled +1, and we bound up the short flight of stairs and to the main level. There was quite a crowd waiting to check their coats, obvious rookies when the skies turn gray, but pushing through led us to paydirt.

Socialista does look like a fantasy version of Havannah. High ceilings, slow turning fans, loose strewn chairs. They hit some nice design touches. We grabbed a drink and grabbed a leather couch by the DJ booth. Comfy. The music was chill, the crowd was chill, the vibe was good. After a few hours, we snuck out the door and into the chill. There were still people maneuvering to get in, but the going was tough. Oh well. We stopped off at a local jaunt for a nightcap and called it a night.

We would love to show you some pictures, but they were not allowed. Spy-tech is on the way.

An Evening Afternoon At: Bounce Deuce

Like we said, summer is over. It's fall. That means football. And sometimes that means headed to a bar to catch all the action. You know we like bars. We also enjoy football. So we joined some friends who had made a reservation at Bounce Deuce in the East Village to enjoy a day of NFL action. We showed up for the early games and this is what we observed.

Pros
1. Every game in HD - nuff said.
2. Above average food - especially for a sports bar in the City, they took it to a higher level. Let's not go crazy now. It wasn't next level, but still pretty good.
3. Super tall 3 foot beer keg things - A nice touch. You could order beer once and not need the waitress for at least 25 minutes. Which as we will explain, comes in handy.
4. Reservations - A nice touch, especially since this place was jammed from wall to wall.

Cons
1. Noise - This place was beyond loud. The volume for the main game was pumping through the place at level 11. You had to scream at the waitress to order.
2. Service - Not the best. Expectations are never high for a sports bar on a busy Sunday, but this certainly didn't meet the minimum requirements. Misplaced food, slow delivery and a bit too much confusion for the staff.
3. Temperature - Uh, it's still 90 degrees outside. Where was the AC? Requests to turn it on went unfounded.

Overall, the negatives outweighed the positives. Despite the rowdy crowd having fun, the heat and the noise made it hard to interact with our table. Alas, we have 16 more weeks to get it right.

Photo Courtesy of Peddler of Bombast/Flickr.

An Evening At: The Anchor

One great thing about an evening at The Anchor is you never know what you're going to get. We arrived last Friday evening and were promptly encountered by a gentleman at the door asking if we were there for a party. That's always thought a weird thing to ask at a bar. Of course. Once inside, two other oddities were to be found. First, the crowd was thin- or thinner than normal for midnight. Second, they were playing hip hop. Definitely not the norm.

We made our way to the table where an acquaintance was celebrating their birthday. Bottle service, another surprise. But the biggest surprise was still to come. At the adjoining table, cloaked in hoodies, was Bron Bron and the Jigga himself. Lebron James and Jay Z at The Anchor. They were joined by a few girls, bodyguards and the owners of Stereo.

To honor their presence, the DJ played Hova's records all night. Having global celebrities in a down and dirty bar like the Anchor helped get things next level. It's a jolt of energy that even the tightest jeans wearing hipster can feel. And when they rolled out around 1, the party rolled on without them.

And the evening illustrates the potential of greatness of New York City. You can go to a the hipsterist of dive bars and wind up sitting next to a top 5 NBA'er and the biggest hip hop artist around. It's the unexpected that keeps us interested and out. Not many other places can say that.

Sorry Cleveland.

An Evening At: mm

About a month ago, we got word that there was a secret club throwing rotating dance parties every so often in New York. Invitations were given only upon request, and credentials were needed. It sounded intriguing, so we set out to gain admittance. Upon our request, mm sang our praise, saying "have checked your blog. you witty little lobster." And like that, we were in.

Like underground dance parties of yore, invitations and directions came the afternoon of the party. A group was put together and plans were made. The invitation called for midnight until late, so we knew that things wouldn't really get started until the early morning. Sit back, it's going to be a late one.

After having a few drinks to get warmed up, we piled into a cab and went to the secret spot, a no man's land location on the west side. Through a metal door of a nondescript 2 story building. Give our name at the door, DBTH +3, and we are in.

But just where are we? The space looked like a VFW meeting house in a state of disrepair. Wood paneled, industrial carpet, the whole nine. Two bars were set up, and the scene was laid back. 3 rooms were used as lounges, with the fourth being the dance floor. The system was loud, professionally done, and impressive. House music blasted through the speakers, and a euro flavored crowd was getting down.

By 3:00, the place had filled up. Every room was packed, and the scene was most definitely anything goes. German DJ legend Sven Vath had stopped by, and since he was enjoying himself, asked if he could get behind the decks. Of course. So he went home, got his records and took over. And with that, the party went to the next level.

A bit later and we decided it to call it a night. Some stayed, some went on to the next party, but we packed it in. Serious kudos for anyone who can throw a semi regular event like this. Who could do it every week? Surely not us. But every so often, it's a nice change of pace from the hustle and bustle of chasing the perfect cocktail. Unfortunately, that's all we can tell you. Some things need to be kept secret.

An Evening At: Milk & Honey

It's time for another installment of the DBTH ongoing series, An Evening At:, where we document the ins and outs of New York City nightlife. Openings and closings, dive bars and lounges, hipsters and B&T, DBTH will be on the scene and letting you read all about it, because for better or worse, it's all we have.

Some local operators had brought in an out of town chef who may be taking over an out of town restaurant, and they were nice enough to bring us along. Dinner was over and the hour was early, and the visiting chef was asked what they wanted to do. Chef says, "I'm beat from the flight, maybe just a place to get a good cocktail." Enough said. Milk & Honey, Sasha's original haven in the Lower East Side, is still unique for its location, atmosphere and drink quality. The number recently changed, but there is no need to call anymore. A quick text to the bar with a table request, and the helpful staff is quick to respond. "Your table will be ready at 10:30, see you then." Perfect.

Our group walks over and steps up to the door, gets buzzed in and led to our back booth. The smiling server is kind enough to help guide Chef through the process, and since we know the skilled Tender knows his way around an Old Fashioned, we ask for a Tequila - Bartenders Choice. The wait period between order and arrival is enough to make a serious drinker shake with excitement, waiting to see just what we will get to taste. Ours was a Tequila Honeysuckle, a creative play on the wildly popular Bourbon version, with just enough honey, cointreu and fresh squeezed lime juice to make us want to have another (two).

There is no extraneous noise, no cell phones, no pushing or shoving. Just concentrate on the world class cocktail, your company and the fact that while the rest of the city is dealing with the madness, you have been granted access to the land of Milk and Honey.

We know the joint's rules on pictures, this photo is courtesy of
Baaderonixxxxxx/Flickr

An Evening At: Beatrice Inn

Welcome to the first installment of a DBTH series, An Evening At:, where we document the ins and outs of New York City nightlife. Openings and closings, dive bars and lounges, hipsters and B&T, DBTH will be on the scene and letting you read all about it, because for better or worse, it's all we have.

Our first installment: A weeknight at Beatrice Inn.

As dinner winds down, a little birdy tells us it's time to head to out. A quick walk and suddenly we stroll past the Bouncer with a handshake and a smile and are inside the Beatrice Inn. Low ceilinged and sparsely decorated, things are quiet early in the evening. With no cocktail menu but a promise from Angela that "everything is really good", we order an Old Fashioned and take a seat on a banquet in the front room. A designer is smoking next to us, and an LA guy gives a birthday girl a shirtless lap dance. Classy. The drink arrives and it's all wrong, full of muddled fruit like Grandma drank in Ought 7. To set the record straight, the proper recipe is as follows:

1. Sugar Cube
2. Bitters
3. Bourbon or Rye

Muddle 1+2, Add 3, Shake, and garnish with a citrus twist. Since Angela has disappeared, we're stuck with the fruit. We follow the LA Boys, birthday girls and the rest of the crew to the Back Room, where the dance floor is heating up. It's strange to see real smoke inside a New York bar. We missed you. Bad 80's songs get the models dancing like it's Fudgie the Whale and we can't help but dig the vibe. The fact that it's a weeknight and the late hour makes it a scenester kind of night. Even as the back room packs up, the front stays quiet and accessible. After a few hours, we'd had enough.

Beatrice Inn is almost hitting on all cylinders. It reminds us of a used car with that new car smell. Or maybe that was just Matt Damhave. But like so many other NYC joints, Beatrice's inability to combine the party with a spectacular cocktail leave us wanting just a little bit more. But everyone inside had a good time, and in the end, isn't that what really counts? Of course not.