More than a month ago, as the last New York summer of my youth was drawing to a close, I wanted to have one more bottomless brunch -- and who better to go with than my best friend in high school, S.H.? Times have changed -- we went to different colleges, and see each other not nearly as often as we would like -- but this was what I wanted for my Last Brunch.
We were originally trying to go to some French place, but we got started late, and it closed early, so we found ourselves at Cafe Cortadito. Again, this was more than a month ago, so this entry will be disappointingly short and unfunny, but the key points that I remember are:
1) CLUB MUSIC. Club music was BLASTING the entire time, setting a mood entirely at odds with a peaceful Sunday morning and the entire institution at brunch. Like, the kind of music whose intros make you want to do jump up and do shots. It was funny and then it was annoying and then it was funny again.
2) The mimosas were potent, but came in very slender glasses. This place can get you drunk, but you have to work quickly. I think the food was good? Again, this was a while ago, so I don't quite remember.
3) When we left, S.H. left by jumping out of the window onto the sidewalk.
Goodbye, New York!
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Flight 151
I'm writing this waaaay after the fact, but I'd just like to let you all know that you should all go to Flight 151 on TUESDAYS, when you can flip a coin to see whether you pay $3 or $0 for a pint, which is pretty much a win-win. I had heard about this great, great deal from someone, and so when my friend Z. came down all the way from Burlington to visit me, I convinced her and her friend S. to come check it out.
Unfortunately, Flight 151 has nothing really going for it except its awesome deals -- awesome not necessarily in the sense that they're cheap (which they are!) but just because they bring an element of play and fun into it: the coin-toss deal is on Tuesdays, a spin-the-wheel-to-see-what-kind-of-shot-you-get game takes places some other nights, etc. Otherwise, it's got a pretty crappy atmosphere (very bland and sportsbar-sy), and its deals are limited to the bar, for which reason we had to stand for part of our night. THAT SAID, the Tuesday deal was a success! We all three did the coin toss three times: S. and I lost twice, which meant that we paid $6 for 3 pints, and Z. lost only once, which meant that she paid $3 for 3 pints!! That's $1 a pint!!!!
We didn't get very drunk, because we all had things to do the next day, but this place could definitely get you drunk. At least on Tuesdays.
Unfortunately, Flight 151 has nothing really going for it except its awesome deals -- awesome not necessarily in the sense that they're cheap (which they are!) but just because they bring an element of play and fun into it: the coin-toss deal is on Tuesdays, a spin-the-wheel-to-see-what-kind-of-shot-you-get game takes places some other nights, etc. Otherwise, it's got a pretty crappy atmosphere (very bland and sportsbar-sy), and its deals are limited to the bar, for which reason we had to stand for part of our night. THAT SAID, the Tuesday deal was a success! We all three did the coin toss three times: S. and I lost twice, which meant that we paid $6 for 3 pints, and Z. lost only once, which meant that she paid $3 for 3 pints!! That's $1 a pint!!!!
We didn't get very drunk, because we all had things to do the next day, but this place could definitely get you drunk. At least on Tuesdays.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Tre - $21.95
YOU GUYS, JOE IS GONE.
HE'S GONE! The Fulbright Program and the Republic of Colombia have joined forces to pull him away from our magical summer of endless mimosas, and have, as of exactly one week ago, received him in their warm and character-building embrace. It's been hard, for me. I don't know whom to text when I can't sleep, or when someone says something ridiculous on Facebook, or when I want to get absolutely wasted for as little money as possible.
It's been hard.
But New York marches on.
This weekend, my childhood friend L. came to visit! I decided that brunch was in order, as we hadn't seen each other since the previous summer (!), and many life events had occurred to both of us, and really, nothing breaks the long-time-no-see barrier like a few liters of champagne. Right?
We decided to go for Tre, which Yelp describes as "Romantic, Trendy, Casual, Intimate."(Seriously, click on the link. You can get the vibe of the place from looking at that website for .2 seconds.) Their bottomless brunch is Saturdays and Sundays, and has a 90-minute limit; however, you can do those 90 minutes any time between 12 pm and 4 pm, which was good for us, since it was already 2:30. We walked in, and the waitress greeted us, seated us, and gave us our menus.
The first thing I noticed was that the menus were prix fixe, brunch drinks included. That is, there was no "bottomless brunch" option. They assumed that you were going to do it. That was part of the brunch. I had a good feeling about this place.
(The second thing I noticed was that there were only two vegetarian options, which is kind of unusual for New York. Nevertheless, when I requested that they replace the meat in my meal with vegetables, they were very accommodating!)
The mimosas were...fancy? What makes mimosas such a delightful morning drink, I think, is the sunniness they get from the two-sweet, too-bright orange juice that our country (myself included) has grown up loving; but these were good, too: more of a dull orange, much less sweet, and tasting strongly of champagne. Very strongly of champagne. We had about two mimosas each before the food got there. We had not yet eaten anything that day.
"I'm super-drunk, oh my god," L. said. "I'm so sorry." She took another drink from her mimosa. "No," she declared, after thinking about it. "I'm not sorry."
We ate our meals (which were super-yummy!) and talked and talked and talked. The waitress was generous but not always attentive with the refills, which I normally would have been anxious about (90-minute limit!), but after I got into an animated conversation with a stranger while waiting in line for the bathroom, I realized that the refills were just right. I did ask for one last refill after she brought us the check; she obliged, but seemed a bit grumpy about it.
L. and I left the restaurant, and ended up sitting in a park for a little while. She called her boyfriend (who's in the navy!); I spoke to him for a bit, but I don't really remember what we talked about. He had a very nice voice! Then we heard "Call Me Maybe" blasting from a nearby bar, and so of course I insisted that we go in. L., kindly, agreed.
The bar happened to be Epstein's bar, which itself is pretty cheap (!) and EVEN OFFERS THEIR OWN AYCD BRUNCH -- FOR ONLY $13.50! I had received a tip-off about Epstein's before, but I was thrilled to have stumbled upon it by accident! We sat at the bar. L. got a beer. I didn't have any cash left. I kept trying to buy something with my two dollars, but the bartender kept scoffing at me. Finally, the other bartender, making his busy way down the bar, looked at me, shook his head, pulled out a Corona and slammed it down in front of me. A free beer! I used one of my dollars to tip him. He laughed.
Eventually, L. said, "Do you wanna go?" and so we left. Her sandals were hurting her, and she had a blister on her left foot, so we switched sandals, and walked west, similarly-mismatched.
"You're, like, my sister," I said. "You know?"
"Totally," L. said.
When we hit Houston, we went into Crate & Barrel. Why did we go into Crate & Barrel? I have no idea. I don't remember. We lay down on some of the beds and then we sat on a couch for a long time. "Can I help you, ladies?" various salespeople would say to us, and we, grinning, shook our heads. I had no idea what was happening. I didn't care. I was having a great time.
We left at some point (?) and bought some french fries and ate them and went home.
HE'S GONE! The Fulbright Program and the Republic of Colombia have joined forces to pull him away from our magical summer of endless mimosas, and have, as of exactly one week ago, received him in their warm and character-building embrace. It's been hard, for me. I don't know whom to text when I can't sleep, or when someone says something ridiculous on Facebook, or when I want to get absolutely wasted for as little money as possible.
It's been hard.
But New York marches on.
This weekend, my childhood friend L. came to visit! I decided that brunch was in order, as we hadn't seen each other since the previous summer (!), and many life events had occurred to both of us, and really, nothing breaks the long-time-no-see barrier like a few liters of champagne. Right?
We decided to go for Tre, which Yelp describes as "Romantic, Trendy, Casual, Intimate."(Seriously, click on the link. You can get the vibe of the place from looking at that website for .2 seconds.) Their bottomless brunch is Saturdays and Sundays, and has a 90-minute limit; however, you can do those 90 minutes any time between 12 pm and 4 pm, which was good for us, since it was already 2:30. We walked in, and the waitress greeted us, seated us, and gave us our menus.
The first thing I noticed was that the menus were prix fixe, brunch drinks included. That is, there was no "bottomless brunch" option. They assumed that you were going to do it. That was part of the brunch. I had a good feeling about this place.
(The second thing I noticed was that there were only two vegetarian options, which is kind of unusual for New York. Nevertheless, when I requested that they replace the meat in my meal with vegetables, they were very accommodating!)
The mimosas were...fancy? What makes mimosas such a delightful morning drink, I think, is the sunniness they get from the two-sweet, too-bright orange juice that our country (myself included) has grown up loving; but these were good, too: more of a dull orange, much less sweet, and tasting strongly of champagne. Very strongly of champagne. We had about two mimosas each before the food got there. We had not yet eaten anything that day.
"I'm super-drunk, oh my god," L. said. "I'm so sorry." She took another drink from her mimosa. "No," she declared, after thinking about it. "I'm not sorry."
We ate our meals (which were super-yummy!) and talked and talked and talked. The waitress was generous but not always attentive with the refills, which I normally would have been anxious about (90-minute limit!), but after I got into an animated conversation with a stranger while waiting in line for the bathroom, I realized that the refills were just right. I did ask for one last refill after she brought us the check; she obliged, but seemed a bit grumpy about it.
L. and I left the restaurant, and ended up sitting in a park for a little while. She called her boyfriend (who's in the navy!); I spoke to him for a bit, but I don't really remember what we talked about. He had a very nice voice! Then we heard "Call Me Maybe" blasting from a nearby bar, and so of course I insisted that we go in. L., kindly, agreed.
The bar happened to be Epstein's bar, which itself is pretty cheap (!) and EVEN OFFERS THEIR OWN AYCD BRUNCH -- FOR ONLY $13.50! I had received a tip-off about Epstein's before, but I was thrilled to have stumbled upon it by accident! We sat at the bar. L. got a beer. I didn't have any cash left. I kept trying to buy something with my two dollars, but the bartender kept scoffing at me. Finally, the other bartender, making his busy way down the bar, looked at me, shook his head, pulled out a Corona and slammed it down in front of me. A free beer! I used one of my dollars to tip him. He laughed.
Eventually, L. said, "Do you wanna go?" and so we left. Her sandals were hurting her, and she had a blister on her left foot, so we switched sandals, and walked west, similarly-mismatched.
"You're, like, my sister," I said. "You know?"
"Totally," L. said.
When we hit Houston, we went into Crate & Barrel. Why did we go into Crate & Barrel? I have no idea. I don't remember. We lay down on some of the beds and then we sat on a couch for a long time. "Can I help you, ladies?" various salespeople would say to us, and we, grinning, shook our heads. I had no idea what was happening. I didn't care. I was having a great time.
We left at some point (?) and bought some french fries and ate them and went home.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Continental
Everyone's seen it. Sandwiched in between a McDonald's and a falafel place (formerly Chickpea, now Tahini), Continental's banner proudly proclaims:
5 SHOTS OF ANYTHING $10
ALL DAY / ALL NIGHT (yes, we're serious)
Back in high school, when I still had enough dignity left to enable me to have a fully-intact sense of irony, I told myself (and anyone who would listen) that I couldn't wait to be 21 and just, like, go in there at like, 8 A.M., and like slam $20 on the table and get 10 shots and just like, shoot them and leave. Ha! Ha! Ha! Who would do that! Ha! Ha! Ha! How ridiculous!
Cut to the present:
When Joe and I were brainstorming places to check out this week, I said, "...You know that place on Astor Place? Where you can get, like, twenty shots for like, five dollars?"
(I've always had an overactive imagination.)
"Um, I think so," Joe said, carefully (as he says most things). "I've seen this place on Astor Place where you can get five shots for ten dollars. Are we thinking of the same place?"
"Probably not," I insisted. "I don't think so."
"Like, it's really sketchy-looking?" Joe pressed on. "Really, really sketchy-looking?"
"It's like, next to a pizza place?" I said. "Or it is a pizza place? Or it's next to like some sort of fast food? Dark exterior? Huge banner?"
"I think we're thinking of the same place," said Joe.
We were.
Continental's website gives you the "Top 10 Reasons to Drink at Continental," of which my three favorite are: What happens at Continental - stays at Continental, Nothing rhymes with Continental, and Iggy Pop drank here. "Do you think," I asked Joe, as we walked up from a Chinatown dinner toward Astor Place, "that we might be the first people ever to go there on purpose?"
"Ha. You mean, like, instead of stumbling into it?" Joe said. After a few moments of reflection, he said, "Yeah -- we could actually be the first people to make plans and like, go out of our way to go there."
We were silent.
"It's for our quest, though," he said.
I nodded, resolutely. Every one of our friends whom we had told of our intentions had shrieked with stunned laughter upon realizing just which place we were talking about. "The one on Astor Place?" they'd said. "The really sketchy one? Have fun!"
We were to meet our valiant friend M.B. there at 9:30, and so we killed some time in the St. Marks Bookshop, and then got some $4 beer at the bar across St. Marks from Continental ("$4 is cheap," said Joe, "but definitely not cheap enough.") Finally, when the time came, we walked over.
There was, of all things, a bouncer at the door. We presented our I.D.s and entered the bar, which was very, very dark. Very dark. The only light came from a jukebox on one side of the room, in front of which there seemed to be a perpetual small crowd. No matter who it was, they were always having fun. We grabbed a table (it was a very wobbly table), sat down, and waited for our waitress.
"Hi, what can I get you guys?" she asked.
"Uh, outside it says '$10 for 5 shots of anything'?" Joe ventured. When she nodded, he said, "Is that just like, any kind of liquor?" She nodded again, and he said, "I'd like five shots of rum, please."
"Whiskey," I said.
"Vodka," said M.B.
To me, she said, "Is Jack Daniels okay?"
Having expected a much, much worse brand of whiskey, it took me a few moments before I stammered, "Uh -- uh, yes, yeah!"
"Bacardi?" she said to Joe. He nodded. "Absolut?" she said to M.B.
"Yes, please," he said.
She left. I said, "Those are much better choices than I was expecting."
The shots came. They looked like this:
We drank all of our shots. We ordered another five, which we split three ways (Joe and M.B. had two each; I had one). We talked earnestly and passionately about healthcare and teachers' salaries. Next to us, jukebox-users came and went, always singing loudly. At one point, I excused myself to use the bathroom, only to find that I couldn't figure out how the sink worked! I stared in the mirror, my hands full of soap. I examined the faucet, searching for a button. I waved my hands everywhere in the sinkbowl, hoping to activate some motion sensor. Nothing!
Maybe the sink was broken! I stumbled out of the women's bathroom, and pushed my way into the men's. No water, there, either! I would have to have soapy hands. I would have to have soapy hands forever! I contemplated my fate, sighed, left the men's bathroom, and then decided to give the women's bathroom one last shot -- and, somehow, it worked! I put my hands into the sink, and water poured out! Hands cleansed and lightly-perfumed, I cheerfully headed back upstairs.
We left drunk and happy (the Pixies were playing), and went to go get some food: DIY froyo (bad idea: mine was very, very lopsided, and my toppings were completely arbitrary) and fancy fries. I would highly recommend Continental: this place will get you drunk so cheaply, and off of decent liquor! I suppose the ambiance is terrible, which sort of begs the question, Why wouldn't you just sit at home and drink your own Jack?, but if you're with a group of people, and need to quickly and cheaply get drunk, Continental is perfect.
5 SHOTS OF ANYTHING $10
ALL DAY / ALL NIGHT (yes, we're serious)
Back in high school, when I still had enough dignity left to enable me to have a fully-intact sense of irony, I told myself (and anyone who would listen) that I couldn't wait to be 21 and just, like, go in there at like, 8 A.M., and like slam $20 on the table and get 10 shots and just like, shoot them and leave. Ha! Ha! Ha! Who would do that! Ha! Ha! Ha! How ridiculous!
Cut to the present:
When Joe and I were brainstorming places to check out this week, I said, "...You know that place on Astor Place? Where you can get, like, twenty shots for like, five dollars?"
(I've always had an overactive imagination.)
"Um, I think so," Joe said, carefully (as he says most things). "I've seen this place on Astor Place where you can get five shots for ten dollars. Are we thinking of the same place?"
"Probably not," I insisted. "I don't think so."
"Like, it's really sketchy-looking?" Joe pressed on. "Really, really sketchy-looking?"
"It's like, next to a pizza place?" I said. "Or it is a pizza place? Or it's next to like some sort of fast food? Dark exterior? Huge banner?"
"I think we're thinking of the same place," said Joe.
We were.
Continental's website gives you the "Top 10 Reasons to Drink at Continental," of which my three favorite are: What happens at Continental - stays at Continental, Nothing rhymes with Continental, and Iggy Pop drank here. "Do you think," I asked Joe, as we walked up from a Chinatown dinner toward Astor Place, "that we might be the first people ever to go there on purpose?"
"Ha. You mean, like, instead of stumbling into it?" Joe said. After a few moments of reflection, he said, "Yeah -- we could actually be the first people to make plans and like, go out of our way to go there."
We were silent.
"It's for our quest, though," he said.
I nodded, resolutely. Every one of our friends whom we had told of our intentions had shrieked with stunned laughter upon realizing just which place we were talking about. "The one on Astor Place?" they'd said. "The really sketchy one? Have fun!"
We were to meet our valiant friend M.B. there at 9:30, and so we killed some time in the St. Marks Bookshop, and then got some $4 beer at the bar across St. Marks from Continental ("$4 is cheap," said Joe, "but definitely not cheap enough.") Finally, when the time came, we walked over.
There was, of all things, a bouncer at the door. We presented our I.D.s and entered the bar, which was very, very dark. Very dark. The only light came from a jukebox on one side of the room, in front of which there seemed to be a perpetual small crowd. No matter who it was, they were always having fun. We grabbed a table (it was a very wobbly table), sat down, and waited for our waitress.
"Hi, what can I get you guys?" she asked.
"Uh, outside it says '$10 for 5 shots of anything'?" Joe ventured. When she nodded, he said, "Is that just like, any kind of liquor?" She nodded again, and he said, "I'd like five shots of rum, please."
"Whiskey," I said.
"Vodka," said M.B.
To me, she said, "Is Jack Daniels okay?"
Having expected a much, much worse brand of whiskey, it took me a few moments before I stammered, "Uh -- uh, yes, yeah!"
"Bacardi?" she said to Joe. He nodded. "Absolut?" she said to M.B.
"Yes, please," he said.
She left. I said, "Those are much better choices than I was expecting."
The shots came. They looked like this:
We drank all of our shots. We ordered another five, which we split three ways (Joe and M.B. had two each; I had one). We talked earnestly and passionately about healthcare and teachers' salaries. Next to us, jukebox-users came and went, always singing loudly. At one point, I excused myself to use the bathroom, only to find that I couldn't figure out how the sink worked! I stared in the mirror, my hands full of soap. I examined the faucet, searching for a button. I waved my hands everywhere in the sinkbowl, hoping to activate some motion sensor. Nothing!
Maybe the sink was broken! I stumbled out of the women's bathroom, and pushed my way into the men's. No water, there, either! I would have to have soapy hands. I would have to have soapy hands forever! I contemplated my fate, sighed, left the men's bathroom, and then decided to give the women's bathroom one last shot -- and, somehow, it worked! I put my hands into the sink, and water poured out! Hands cleansed and lightly-perfumed, I cheerfully headed back upstairs.
We left drunk and happy (the Pixies were playing), and went to go get some food: DIY froyo (bad idea: mine was very, very lopsided, and my toppings were completely arbitrary) and fancy fries. I would highly recommend Continental: this place will get you drunk so cheaply, and off of decent liquor! I suppose the ambiance is terrible, which sort of begs the question, Why wouldn't you just sit at home and drink your own Jack?, but if you're with a group of people, and need to quickly and cheaply get drunk, Continental is perfect.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
The Gin Mill
If it had been up to me, I would have never gone to a bar named The Gin Mill. The name brings to mind a group of wealthy, classy writers sipping gin during the 1920's, discussing who would ravish whom (both intellectually and physically) on that particular night. And, while that all sounds highly enjoyable and I do hope to sip and ravish to such an extent at one point in my life, I simply do not have the money to spend on high-quality gin, for I am broke, and so are the readers of this blog.
Yet I was forced to go, for my dear friend Gavin was visiting from New Orleans and this was my one opportunity to see him. So I wrote the above paragraph on a piece of paper - prepared to read it loudly as part of a great protest speech that would lead to The Gin Mill losing all its customers - and I departed for the Upper West Side brooding with skepticism.
Yet, my dear readers, my skepticism was eventually replaced with hope, and that hope was eventually replaced with spiritual fulfillment, because I came to discover that The Gin Mill is, in actuality, a haven for getting drunk cheaply. This bar has great deals throughout the week (like most bars, especially Mon.-Thurs.), and it was offering cheap pitchers the night we were there. As far as I could see, no one was actually drinking gin. On the contrary, shots were available for only three dollars.
My friends and I had an excellent time, and Gavin confirmed that he has started a wonderful life in New Orleans with his girlfriend. If the Gin Mill had been expensive, I would have been far too upset to appreciate this, but instead I felt great joy for Gavin and his adventures.
If you are a beer pong enthusiast, I would highly recommend The Gin Mill on a Monday night. ALL beer on Monday is half-price. The beer is cheap, beer pong tables are out, cups and balls are readily available (for free), and it is relatively easy to get on a table with your friends. The way the alcohol flows is reminiscent of Spanky and Darla's, which I recently reviewed, although Spanky Danky's perhaps has waitresses more readily available to give away free shots. The Gin Mill, on the other hand, does have an excellent atmosphere: kind of dark, just the right amount of crowded, with the feel of a laid back but fun college party. To summarize, with its 7.50 pitchers, The Gin Mill is a damn fun place that can get you drunk well within the 20-dollar zone, especially early on in the week.
PS It is also worth noting that The Gin Mill has a bunch of sister-bars located around the city, which are also probably awesome, and these can be found here.
PPS Quick run-down on the key deals:
Monday: 1/2 price beer and three-dollar shots
Tuesday: Crazy cheap drinks for ladies
Wednesday: 1/2 price pitchers, 1/2 price shots
Thursday: 1/2 price with student ID (I have no idea whether they check expiration dates...)
Yet I was forced to go, for my dear friend Gavin was visiting from New Orleans and this was my one opportunity to see him. So I wrote the above paragraph on a piece of paper - prepared to read it loudly as part of a great protest speech that would lead to The Gin Mill losing all its customers - and I departed for the Upper West Side brooding with skepticism.
Yet, my dear readers, my skepticism was eventually replaced with hope, and that hope was eventually replaced with spiritual fulfillment, because I came to discover that The Gin Mill is, in actuality, a haven for getting drunk cheaply. This bar has great deals throughout the week (like most bars, especially Mon.-Thurs.), and it was offering cheap pitchers the night we were there. As far as I could see, no one was actually drinking gin. On the contrary, shots were available for only three dollars.
My friends and I had an excellent time, and Gavin confirmed that he has started a wonderful life in New Orleans with his girlfriend. If the Gin Mill had been expensive, I would have been far too upset to appreciate this, but instead I felt great joy for Gavin and his adventures.
If you are a beer pong enthusiast, I would highly recommend The Gin Mill on a Monday night. ALL beer on Monday is half-price. The beer is cheap, beer pong tables are out, cups and balls are readily available (for free), and it is relatively easy to get on a table with your friends. The way the alcohol flows is reminiscent of Spanky and Darla's, which I recently reviewed, although Spanky Danky's perhaps has waitresses more readily available to give away free shots. The Gin Mill, on the other hand, does have an excellent atmosphere: kind of dark, just the right amount of crowded, with the feel of a laid back but fun college party. To summarize, with its 7.50 pitchers, The Gin Mill is a damn fun place that can get you drunk well within the 20-dollar zone, especially early on in the week.
PS It is also worth noting that The Gin Mill has a bunch of sister-bars located around the city, which are also probably awesome, and these can be found here.
PPS Quick run-down on the key deals:
Monday: 1/2 price beer and three-dollar shots
Tuesday: Crazy cheap drinks for ladies
Wednesday: 1/2 price pitchers, 1/2 price shots
Thursday: 1/2 price with student ID (I have no idea whether they check expiration dates...)
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Strong Place [Guest Post!]
This blog does not place
a premium on alcohol quality. Quantity, quantity, quantity, Joe and Maia
decided, is the name of the game. It was an intrepid decision that has left the
entire blogosphere wet with excitement. I couldn’t help wondering though, what
if you could have both? What if you could marry the great deals that Joe and
Maia have found all over the city with some of the best beer in the world? Is
it even possible? Well loyal readers wondering who the hell I am, I have an
answer for you—at Strong Place in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn, anything is possible.
Close to both the Bergen
and Carroll Street stops on the F, this bar/restaurant is on the upscale side
and can get pretty pricey. At happy hour though, which lasts from 4-7 Monday
through Thursday, pints of anything on their beer list will run you just $2.50.
As someone who has routinely paid more than that for PBR, this deal seemed too
good to be true. When I asked my waitress if this was for real, she said “yeah,
it’s pretty fucking great.” That was all I needed to hear.
My two good friends and I set up shop at a table in the backyard, though there were plenty of open booths inside. Seats at the bar itself were packed with Brooklynites well acquainted with the magic that is happy hour at Strong Place. We each drank six delicious pints from around the country and we still hadn’t exhausted Strong Place’s entire beer list, which sits at an impressive 24 different beers.
Twenty dollars will get you eight beers, but I was drunk after six. Keep in mind that we’re not talking about watered down brunch mimosas or 4.7% ABV PBR here. These are serious beers, usually with about 50% more alcohol than your standard cheap happy hour fare. If you factor in a hot post-work subway ride and haven’t eaten anything since lunch, eight beers from Strong Place will almost certainly get you drunk for $20. If you feel like classing it up a little bit but still don’t want to spend a fortune, Strong Place will treat you well.
- Greg Dorris, Guest Contributor
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Hop Devil Grill - $20
On the most recent Sunday, Maia and I reunited after three intolerably brunchless weeks.
It was a sunny morning and we were back in the East Village, home to our now legendary brunch at the Sunburnt Cow, where a bunch of angelic Australians allowed us to drink mimosas for - I am pretty sure - three days straight. We had not seen each other for so long and we had so much to tell each other! I had been to England, a world full of queens and grandparents, and she had been to Philadelphia, an enchanting city full of Liberty Bells and boyfriends. We sat down at our new brunch home, Hop Devil Grill, with the excitement of two friends returning to their favorite past time at long last: drinking unyielding mimosas.
The first thing we noticed walking in was that the place was quiet, with nearly all the tables empty. If you are looking for a raucous Sunday brunch party in this neighborhood, The Sunburnt Cow is definitely the place to go. That being said, if you are looking for a more relaxing boozy brunch, Hop Devil may be ideal. The waitress was very nice...she even offered Maia a sangria WHILE she was drinking her mimosa! Two drinks at once, incredible!! Maia did not accept that offer, which, looking back, is unspeakably tragic, but the fact that the waitress offered at all is notable. Refills were pretty good, but perhaps could have been a little quicker.
Hop Devil does stand out for its excellent variety of drinking options. I personally had been waiting for a place with sangria, and Hop Devil had red AND white sangria. Yet even more impressive was the pretty damn good selection of beers you could order with the brunch. Yo ALSO this place has one-dollar PBR's, so you could get hammered just going the PBR route. Now that I'm thinking about it, 20 PBR's with no food at all is probably the most bad ass Sunday brunch ever conceived, and if any of you decide to do that, please write a guest post about your experience immediately after. But probably eat some food or that would be dangerous.
Anyway, it must be said that the drinks are not the strongest here, and that could partly explain why everyone seems to be going to The Sunburnt Cow instead. Moreover, there was no option, unlike the Sunburnt Cow, to sit at the bar after our 90 minutes were up and continue to receive unending mimosas. This place will certainly get you tipsy, but perhaps not drunk. Although Maia got drunk! Or so she said, I have seen Maia realllly drunk and she was definitely not that drunk.
Maia's note: Although I do agree with Joe's assessment of Hop Devil (obviously; always) I am willing to put out there that I had had a stomach virus two days before, and so perhaps my drinking was not as speedy as it should have been? (Joe's right, I think I didn't feel drunk, I just felt sick.) Either way, though, it was ridiculously easy to get drunk at MexiBBQ and The Sunburnt Cow, but you kind of had to work to get drunk here. The mimosas came in tiny, tiny flutes!!!! Like, champagne flutes!!!!! It is awesome that they offer unlimited craft beer as one of their AYCD options, but honestly, you do have to work really, really hard to get drunk off of that, too -- it's dark and heavy and maybe not what you want for brunch.
It was a sunny morning and we were back in the East Village, home to our now legendary brunch at the Sunburnt Cow, where a bunch of angelic Australians allowed us to drink mimosas for - I am pretty sure - three days straight. We had not seen each other for so long and we had so much to tell each other! I had been to England, a world full of queens and grandparents, and she had been to Philadelphia, an enchanting city full of Liberty Bells and boyfriends. We sat down at our new brunch home, Hop Devil Grill, with the excitement of two friends returning to their favorite past time at long last: drinking unyielding mimosas.
The first thing we noticed walking in was that the place was quiet, with nearly all the tables empty. If you are looking for a raucous Sunday brunch party in this neighborhood, The Sunburnt Cow is definitely the place to go. That being said, if you are looking for a more relaxing boozy brunch, Hop Devil may be ideal. The waitress was very nice...she even offered Maia a sangria WHILE she was drinking her mimosa! Two drinks at once, incredible!! Maia did not accept that offer, which, looking back, is unspeakably tragic, but the fact that the waitress offered at all is notable. Refills were pretty good, but perhaps could have been a little quicker.
Hop Devil does stand out for its excellent variety of drinking options. I personally had been waiting for a place with sangria, and Hop Devil had red AND white sangria. Yet even more impressive was the pretty damn good selection of beers you could order with the brunch. Yo ALSO this place has one-dollar PBR's, so you could get hammered just going the PBR route. Now that I'm thinking about it, 20 PBR's with no food at all is probably the most bad ass Sunday brunch ever conceived, and if any of you decide to do that, please write a guest post about your experience immediately after. But probably eat some food or that would be dangerous.
Anyway, it must be said that the drinks are not the strongest here, and that could partly explain why everyone seems to be going to The Sunburnt Cow instead. Moreover, there was no option, unlike the Sunburnt Cow, to sit at the bar after our 90 minutes were up and continue to receive unending mimosas. This place will certainly get you tipsy, but perhaps not drunk. Although Maia got drunk! Or so she said, I have seen Maia realllly drunk and she was definitely not that drunk.
Maia's note: Although I do agree with Joe's assessment of Hop Devil (obviously; always) I am willing to put out there that I had had a stomach virus two days before, and so perhaps my drinking was not as speedy as it should have been? (Joe's right, I think I didn't feel drunk, I just felt sick.) Either way, though, it was ridiculously easy to get drunk at MexiBBQ and The Sunburnt Cow, but you kind of had to work to get drunk here. The mimosas came in tiny, tiny flutes!!!! Like, champagne flutes!!!!! It is awesome that they offer unlimited craft beer as one of their AYCD options, but honestly, you do have to work really, really hard to get drunk off of that, too -- it's dark and heavy and maybe not what you want for brunch.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Spanky and Darla's
I knew upon entering that I had walked into a strange, magical world of abundant alcohol and depraved debauchery. To start, the bar's TV was showing the Mets winning 17-1. 17-1!!! I didn't think the Mets had scored 17 runs in the entire history of the team, let alone in one game. Even stranger was the couple drunkenly making out - which is of course fine when the time is right - when it was not even 9 PM yet!!
The normal laws of the matrix clearly do not apply at Spanky and Darla's AKA Cheap Shots (its old name) AKA THE GREATEST BAR EVER. Seriously, you should go right now.
The best way to describe what makes the bar so special is to explore thoroughly just how bad of a business model they seem to have. It just seems absolutely impossible that the bar makes any money given how ridiculously cheap the alcohol is, and far more plausible that the whole establishment is only a cover for a drug-fueled kangaroo prostitution ring that thrives in a back room somewhere. But who are we to complain?? The main deal comes on the pitchers of beer; Miller High Life pitchers are available for a mere seven dollars!!! We came with a big group of people, led by my wildly popular friend Liz and our terrifyingly insane friend Jane, and the result was that it seemed like there was always a new pitcher of beer on the table. Everyone wants to step up and buy the next pitcher when the pitchers are so, so cheap!
But honestly, describing how cheap the pitchers of beer are only begins to capture Spanky Danky's (my nickname for the bar) wonderfulness, and this brings us back to the theme of just how bad this place seems to be at making any money. The waitress really doesn't seem to care about what you pay for and what you don't. Of course, when she asks for money, you have to pay, but she definitely only asked us for money some of the time and whenever we tried to estimate how many pitchers we had ordered since the last time we paid, she consistently underestimated. If Maia gets to marry the hunky bartender from The Sunburnt Cow, I get to marry this bartender. Yet this would be difficult, because she found the girls in our group vastly more interesting than the guys. TIP: Bring girls!! You will get lots of free shots!! We got at least two rounds of free shots, perhaps three. Even when you pay for shots, they are cheap (four dollars), but when you start getting shots for free this place actually becomes some kind of heaven on earth for cheap drinking. It is impossible to not get drunk. So, in summary, the business model: free shots for customers, really cheap beer, really cheap shots, not keeping track of how many pitchers customers order. Please go to this bar before it shuts down when the Feds bust the kangaroo prostitution ring.
The normal laws of the matrix clearly do not apply at Spanky and Darla's AKA Cheap Shots (its old name) AKA THE GREATEST BAR EVER. Seriously, you should go right now.
The best way to describe what makes the bar so special is to explore thoroughly just how bad of a business model they seem to have. It just seems absolutely impossible that the bar makes any money given how ridiculously cheap the alcohol is, and far more plausible that the whole establishment is only a cover for a drug-fueled kangaroo prostitution ring that thrives in a back room somewhere. But who are we to complain?? The main deal comes on the pitchers of beer; Miller High Life pitchers are available for a mere seven dollars!!! We came with a big group of people, led by my wildly popular friend Liz and our terrifyingly insane friend Jane, and the result was that it seemed like there was always a new pitcher of beer on the table. Everyone wants to step up and buy the next pitcher when the pitchers are so, so cheap!
But honestly, describing how cheap the pitchers of beer are only begins to capture Spanky Danky's (my nickname for the bar) wonderfulness, and this brings us back to the theme of just how bad this place seems to be at making any money. The waitress really doesn't seem to care about what you pay for and what you don't. Of course, when she asks for money, you have to pay, but she definitely only asked us for money some of the time and whenever we tried to estimate how many pitchers we had ordered since the last time we paid, she consistently underestimated. If Maia gets to marry the hunky bartender from The Sunburnt Cow, I get to marry this bartender. Yet this would be difficult, because she found the girls in our group vastly more interesting than the guys. TIP: Bring girls!! You will get lots of free shots!! We got at least two rounds of free shots, perhaps three. Even when you pay for shots, they are cheap (four dollars), but when you start getting shots for free this place actually becomes some kind of heaven on earth for cheap drinking. It is impossible to not get drunk. So, in summary, the business model: free shots for customers, really cheap beer, really cheap shots, not keeping track of how many pitchers customers order. Please go to this bar before it shuts down when the Feds bust the kangaroo prostitution ring.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
No Ice
Guys, it occurs to me that, when I realized that the mimosas at La Flaca were very weak (see most recent post), I should have just asked for no ice.
Lesson #1: Always bring a corkscrew.
Lesson #2: Always ask for your mimosas with no ice.
We're learning.
Lesson #1: Always bring a corkscrew.
Lesson #2: Always ask for your mimosas with no ice.
We're learning.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
La Flaca - $18
I DID IT. I FUCKING DID IT. I FOUND AN AYCD WEEKDAY BRUNCH. YOU GUYS. YOU GUYS. I AM THE CHAMPION. I AM THE CHAMPION OF HAPPINESS.
Okay, sorry, let me backtrack --
Last Friday, tragedy struck: Joe left for England for two weeks! Confused, upset, and decidedly sober, I had no choice but to ask my boyfriend C. to come up from Philly for a few days and comfort my sad, Joe-less existence.
I had (of course) been telling C. all about our AYCD brunches, and he had been (of course) appropriately envious. Now, determined to show him the best New York had to offer, I decided that I needed to take him to a brunch -- but he was visiting from Monday to Thursday! Would I find an AYCD weekday brunch?!
New York is a big city, and I figured there had to be at least one place, even if we needed to take two subways and a bus to get there. I went through pages and pages of Google ("nyc bottomless brunch weekday"), rephrased my search terms over and over again ("nyc aycd brunch weekday," "nyc weekday unlimited mimosas," etc.), and link-hopped from one list to the next. All in all, I spent about half-an-hour crawling through the internet -- and then, and then, I found it. On a list of AYCD NYC brunches, which I had found through clicking through blog after blog, I found one entry that said, next to the name of the place, "weekday."
My pulse quickened with the thrill of the moment of capture.
La Flaca.
Their weekday AYCD brunch is from 12 pm - 4 pm, which is I think is pretty late for this sort of thing. However, I only took it as a good sign -- chill, relaxed, down to help you have a good time -- and so C. and I arrived at about 12:30, very hungry and very ready to drink.
Unlike the other two brunch places, which had been bustling, La Flaca was sleepy, with only a few tables occupied. This was perhaps because, like, what kind of losers want an AYCD brunch on a weekday? The ambiance was nice, though: the place was really cute, and the music was actually great! (They played a really strange-but-good mix of well-known favorites from across lots of different time periods and genres.)
Here's my main takeaway from La Flaca: enormous time limit, and the food is good! The portions were huge (way larger than they needed to be, in fact: it's 11 pm and I'm still full), and the breakfast sandwich that I got was yummy. Also, good fries! Gotta love a place with good fries.
Our waitress was good with the refills. She wasn't amazing, as the waiters and waitresses had been at the other two places -- but, you know, very decent. (She quickly figured out what our deal was, and would smirk a little every time she offered us another round. We liked her.) The glasses were a little on the small side, and I think the mimosas were a little bit weak due to how much ice was in them. C.'s native-Texan magnetic attraction to Mexican fare, though, saved his very first AYCD brunch experience: the frozen margaritas were very, very strong, which resulted in his getting much drunker than I did! LIFE IS REALLY UNFAIR. Verdict: this place may get you drunk, if you order the right drink! Although it breaks my heart to say it, maybe don't go with the mimosas.
Towards the end of our meal, our friend V. showed up. He ate some of C.'s leftovers, and we all chatted for a bit. When eventually C. and I had to leave and catch our buses (C. back to Philly, I up to Vermont to visit a friend), V., who was meeting up with another friend, and was waiting for her to get downtown, said, "Maybe I'll just get some food and wait for her here." He ordered huevos rancheros and started off his AYCD brunch with some sangria.
Twenty minutes later, at the bus stop, C. got a text from him: "I'm tipsy and full this is great!"
Summary:
+ good food
- not all their drinks get you drunk
+ huge time limit
Okay, sorry, let me backtrack --
Last Friday, tragedy struck: Joe left for England for two weeks! Confused, upset, and decidedly sober, I had no choice but to ask my boyfriend C. to come up from Philly for a few days and comfort my sad, Joe-less existence.
I had (of course) been telling C. all about our AYCD brunches, and he had been (of course) appropriately envious. Now, determined to show him the best New York had to offer, I decided that I needed to take him to a brunch -- but he was visiting from Monday to Thursday! Would I find an AYCD weekday brunch?!
New York is a big city, and I figured there had to be at least one place, even if we needed to take two subways and a bus to get there. I went through pages and pages of Google ("nyc bottomless brunch weekday"), rephrased my search terms over and over again ("nyc aycd brunch weekday," "nyc weekday unlimited mimosas," etc.), and link-hopped from one list to the next. All in all, I spent about half-an-hour crawling through the internet -- and then, and then, I found it. On a list of AYCD NYC brunches, which I had found through clicking through blog after blog, I found one entry that said, next to the name of the place, "weekday."
My pulse quickened with the thrill of the moment of capture.
La Flaca.
Their weekday AYCD brunch is from 12 pm - 4 pm, which is I think is pretty late for this sort of thing. However, I only took it as a good sign -- chill, relaxed, down to help you have a good time -- and so C. and I arrived at about 12:30, very hungry and very ready to drink.
Unlike the other two brunch places, which had been bustling, La Flaca was sleepy, with only a few tables occupied. This was perhaps because, like, what kind of losers want an AYCD brunch on a weekday? The ambiance was nice, though: the place was really cute, and the music was actually great! (They played a really strange-but-good mix of well-known favorites from across lots of different time periods and genres.)
Here's my main takeaway from La Flaca: enormous time limit, and the food is good! The portions were huge (way larger than they needed to be, in fact: it's 11 pm and I'm still full), and the breakfast sandwich that I got was yummy. Also, good fries! Gotta love a place with good fries.
Our waitress was good with the refills. She wasn't amazing, as the waiters and waitresses had been at the other two places -- but, you know, very decent. (She quickly figured out what our deal was, and would smirk a little every time she offered us another round. We liked her.) The glasses were a little on the small side, and I think the mimosas were a little bit weak due to how much ice was in them. C.'s native-Texan magnetic attraction to Mexican fare, though, saved his very first AYCD brunch experience: the frozen margaritas were very, very strong, which resulted in his getting much drunker than I did! LIFE IS REALLY UNFAIR. Verdict: this place may get you drunk, if you order the right drink! Although it breaks my heart to say it, maybe don't go with the mimosas.
Towards the end of our meal, our friend V. showed up. He ate some of C.'s leftovers, and we all chatted for a bit. When eventually C. and I had to leave and catch our buses (C. back to Philly, I up to Vermont to visit a friend), V., who was meeting up with another friend, and was waiting for her to get downtown, said, "Maybe I'll just get some food and wait for her here." He ordered huevos rancheros and started off his AYCD brunch with some sangria.
Twenty minutes later, at the bus stop, C. got a text from him: "I'm tipsy and full this is great!"
Summary:
+ good food
- not all their drinks get you drunk
+ huge time limit
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
The Sunburnt Cow - $20
Our first Manhattan brunch taught us a very important lesson: brunch can be crowded. When Joe and I walked into The Sunburnt Cow on Avenue C, we were asked if we minded having brunch at the bar, at least until a table opened up. We, of course, didn't. "Chris will take good care of you," our waiter said, nodding at the bartender, who was busy flipping cups right-side-up, pouring mimosa-filled pitchers into them, and sliding them to their lucky destinations. Chris nodded in affirmation, without looking up from his busy work.
Joe, for some reason, ordered a Bloody Mary; I, of course, went with my favorite OJ delight. "This is awful," he said, neutrally, after a sip or two. I tried it. It was. Why does anyone drink tomato juice ever?! However, little can stand in the way of Joe and drinking: he calmly worked his way through the sour, pulpy liquid, like a champ. Our waiter came back to tell us a table had opened up. We went over, sat down, and ordered our food. Joe asked for a mimosa.
The Sunburnt Cow's bottomless brunch is either $20 or $25, depending on what food item you choose. The mimosas here are less strong than they were at MexiBBQ, and the glasses were a little smaller, and they were a little less consistently good with the refills (mostly because they were so busy; when there was some downtime, the waiters were very good with refills indeed) but we still got very drunk.
The food here was of good-sized portions, with nice little perks (salad, toast, etc.)!
As soon as we had finished our food, a waiter came over to clear our plates. We asked him if we could have one last refill, and he said sure, of course, he just needed the table free. So we went back to the bar, and presented our empty glasses, and Chris filled them up, and we drank them, and Chris filled them up again, and we (grinning) drank them again. "Is this going to go on indefinitely?" I asked.
"I don't think the mimosas are the problem," Joe said, with the careful diction of someone who doesn't want to jinx something. "I think it's just the table space. We might be able to stay here for as long as we want."
"Okay, I have to pee," I said. I slid off the bar stool, and grabbed Joe's arm. "Get us another drink!" I said. "Say we just graduated from college!"
"Okay," he said.
"Say we're, say we -- say we're siblings!" I insisted. (Yeah, that'll work!) "Say we're siblings from San Diego!"
"Okay," Joe said. He nodded, to reassure me of his seriousness.
When I came back from the bathroom, there was a mimosa waiting for me. "He loved the story," Joe said, laughing quietly. "He's so into it."
"What did you say?"
"I was like, My little sister just graduated from college, we're from San Diego, this is her first day in New York, like her very first impression... Basically like, he feels like it's up to him whether you love or hate New York, forever."
"Oh my god," I said.
"Yep," Joe said, proudly.
"I can't," I said. "I can't! I feel too bad!"
"Maia," Joe said. "Relax. It's your first day in New York!"
We got refill after refill after refill. At one point, Chris came over with three small shot glasses and filled them up, smoothly and quickly. "Welcome to New York!" he said to me, and we did a shot with him. He cleared away the shot glasses and kept working.
"I'm going to marry him," I said to Joe.
Joe nodded. "You'd be drunk all the time."
"Yes," I said. "He's very efficient."
Eventually, Joe and I decided that we'd had enough to drink. Joe left Chris a lavish tip ("Thank you, man," he responded, very seriously), and out we stumbled, into the bright outdoors. We walked for a few blocks, and somehow found our way into a small park, where we found a nice bench to sit on. We hung out there for a while, marveling at the flora surrounding us. I confessed that I was terrible at my times tables. Joe decided to see just how bad by asking me a couple of questions, and laughed and laughed when he saw that it was true. A man and a woman passed by, speaking French; I excitedly addressed them in French, and had a couple minutes' conversation. "Vous parlez très bien," they told me politely, trying to leave.
Joe had to go home, so I accompanied him to his subway stop. "I really want mac and cheese," I said. "I really want mac and cheese from that place on 12th Street. I really, really want it." As I walked, my flipflops flip-flopped heavily with the despair that comes with the knowledge that finding your drunken way from point A to point B is, for all practical purposes, entirely impossible. Joe and I hugged; he went down the stairs to the F train; I turned and walked away from the subway entrance and -- the mac-and-cheese place had a kiosk in the park, right there! It was a miracle. It was a miracle from the Cheese Gods. I paid way too much (five dollars) for a tiny tub of mac and cheese and sat down on a park table to eat it, completely and totally happy. It was salty. It was gooey. It was wonderful.
Next to me, a couple was drinking out of a coconut. "Are you drinking out of a coconut?" I said.
"Yeah!"
"Where -- where did you get that?"
"Over there," the woman said.
"Like two blocks that way," the man said.
"What's in it?" I said.
"They just like, puncture a hole in it, and give you straws," the man said.
"It's so fresh," the woman said.
After a beat, I said, realization dawning: "...So there's no liquor in it."
They laughed. "She thinks we're wasted," said the woman.
"No," I said. "I'm wasted."
When I was done with my mac and cheese, I threw out the plastic tub, bid goodbye to the coconut-drinkers, and began my journey home. It was a beautiful day, and I was happy.
Whiskey Trader
The outlook for the night was grim as the clock approached midnight. My dearest friend Max had convinced my friend Walker, who was visiting Montana, and myself to go to a classy, highly pleasant Belgian bar with excellent beers. WHAT WAS HE THINKING. The beers were not cheap! We had not gotten drunk! I could just imagine my Montanan buddy Walker tweeting all his Montana friends in the morning (he loves Twitter) and telling them that NYC was not all it was cracked up to be, and that no one ever got drunk cheaply. I felt like a failure.
But then, Walker, showing the type of resourcefulness that I imagine he calls upon regularly in Montana when he runs into a large elk made a brilliant, game changing move. He typed "really cheap bar midtown" into his Yelp app. Brilliant! Part of why our night was so much in peril is that midtown has virtually no cheap bars, providing only tourist traps or rich businessmen hangouts, neither of which have good deals. But Walker found the name of a bar known for its cheapness - Whiskey Trader - and we set off to see if we could stage a great midtown drinking coup.
The bar saved our night. First of all, unlimited popcorn. I ate so much popcorn (because I am a baller), and that popcorn just kept flowing. Of course, the availability of popcorn could be an impediment if the main goal is to get drunk, and would have to be countered with very, very cheap drinks. These drinks were SO CHEAP. Four dollar whiskeys, meaning that for 8 dollars you can buy yourself essentially a glass of whiskey on the rocks. Walker and I had a couple of these giant, cheap whiskey drinks (which, by the way, were Maker's Mark, making the cheapness even more impressive), but still were not drunk.
Two miracles occurred that allowed us to get (very) drunk at this bar for under twenty dollars, and I think that they would likely happen again to the next of our brave readers who ventures to Whiskey Trader. Firstly, the bartender bought us shots! Two of them! I have a few suggestions for how to make this happen when you get there. First of all, befriend the regulars. This bar is the type of bar that has a few regulars who attend nightly, and they are tight with the bartenders. If they ask for a round of free shots for their new friends then those free shots will come. Walker used his Montana charm on one of the regulars, talking to him about guitar and Spanish and such, and we had free shots before we knew it. You do not get to choose your shot - but cheap drinkers must not be picky - and thus we enjoyed our two tequila shots and thanked the bartender repeatedly. Which brings me to the second way to almost certainly get free shots at this bar: befriend the bartender! They are all from Europe, I think, and thus the easiest way to get the bartender talking is to ask them lots of questions about their home country. I learned enough from our bartender about the cultural differences between St. Petersburg and Moscow that I'm pretty sure I could write a graduate school dissertation on the subject. Free shots resulted.
Second miracle: We asked the bartender the quickest, cheapest way, to get drunk. This is always a good strategy. Bartenders often take this as a challenge and will go to great lengths to make sure you get drunk. Our bartender certainly did; "151", she replied, with no hesitation. Before we knew it, we had glasses filled with 15 in front of us. I had never drank 151 at a bar, and was thrilled at the possibility, although disappointed to discover it tastes just as bad at a bar as it does in a college freshmen dorm room. But boy oh boy, did it get us drunk! And the 151 is sold at the same price as the really cheap whiskey, meaning you can get a big glass of it for 8 dollars. So, long story short, for twenty dollars at this bar you can get a massive amount of whiskey and/or 151, along with a couple free shots if you play your cards right. This place gets you drunk.
My Montana friend went from soberly reminiscing about hanging out with elks in Montana to being SO DRUNK. He had probably the worst hangover I have ever seen. Don't you want the worst hangover ever?? Doesn't that sound fun?? If so, Whiskey Trader can do that for you, and for not much money at all.
But then, Walker, showing the type of resourcefulness that I imagine he calls upon regularly in Montana when he runs into a large elk made a brilliant, game changing move. He typed "really cheap bar midtown" into his Yelp app. Brilliant! Part of why our night was so much in peril is that midtown has virtually no cheap bars, providing only tourist traps or rich businessmen hangouts, neither of which have good deals. But Walker found the name of a bar known for its cheapness - Whiskey Trader - and we set off to see if we could stage a great midtown drinking coup.
The bar saved our night. First of all, unlimited popcorn. I ate so much popcorn (because I am a baller), and that popcorn just kept flowing. Of course, the availability of popcorn could be an impediment if the main goal is to get drunk, and would have to be countered with very, very cheap drinks. These drinks were SO CHEAP. Four dollar whiskeys, meaning that for 8 dollars you can buy yourself essentially a glass of whiskey on the rocks. Walker and I had a couple of these giant, cheap whiskey drinks (which, by the way, were Maker's Mark, making the cheapness even more impressive), but still were not drunk.
Two miracles occurred that allowed us to get (very) drunk at this bar for under twenty dollars, and I think that they would likely happen again to the next of our brave readers who ventures to Whiskey Trader. Firstly, the bartender bought us shots! Two of them! I have a few suggestions for how to make this happen when you get there. First of all, befriend the regulars. This bar is the type of bar that has a few regulars who attend nightly, and they are tight with the bartenders. If they ask for a round of free shots for their new friends then those free shots will come. Walker used his Montana charm on one of the regulars, talking to him about guitar and Spanish and such, and we had free shots before we knew it. You do not get to choose your shot - but cheap drinkers must not be picky - and thus we enjoyed our two tequila shots and thanked the bartender repeatedly. Which brings me to the second way to almost certainly get free shots at this bar: befriend the bartender! They are all from Europe, I think, and thus the easiest way to get the bartender talking is to ask them lots of questions about their home country. I learned enough from our bartender about the cultural differences between St. Petersburg and Moscow that I'm pretty sure I could write a graduate school dissertation on the subject. Free shots resulted.
Second miracle: We asked the bartender the quickest, cheapest way, to get drunk. This is always a good strategy. Bartenders often take this as a challenge and will go to great lengths to make sure you get drunk. Our bartender certainly did; "151", she replied, with no hesitation. Before we knew it, we had glasses filled with 15 in front of us. I had never drank 151 at a bar, and was thrilled at the possibility, although disappointed to discover it tastes just as bad at a bar as it does in a college freshmen dorm room. But boy oh boy, did it get us drunk! And the 151 is sold at the same price as the really cheap whiskey, meaning you can get a big glass of it for 8 dollars. So, long story short, for twenty dollars at this bar you can get a massive amount of whiskey and/or 151, along with a couple free shots if you play your cards right. This place gets you drunk.
My Montana friend went from soberly reminiscing about hanging out with elks in Montana to being SO DRUNK. He had probably the worst hangover I have ever seen. Don't you want the worst hangover ever?? Doesn't that sound fun?? If so, Whiskey Trader can do that for you, and for not much money at all.
Rooftop Films 2012 Summer Series
This is one hell of a deal, folks, and it's available every weekend throughout the summer. Rooftop Films has organized these sweet nights that start off on a roof in either Brooklyn or Manhattan. There is an opening band and then a feature film. The band my friend and I saw was ACTIVELY bad, but hell, who cares, they were enthusiastic as fuck and I liked them. The movie was absolutely perfect; it's called The Fat Kid Rules the World, and I recommend it to everyone. The roof, which was on top of New Design High School, was also epically cool, with an amazing view and great art everywhere.
When it comes down to it, this blog doesn't really give a shit about music, movies. or even roofs. Surely, as people, Maia and I have music and movie preferences - we are not yet culturally neutral alcohol assassins - but in this blog we most certainly aim to be, and thus the point of this entry is to explain how the Rooftop Films Series can be an invaluable way to get drunk when you're broke.
For just twelve dollars, you get to go to this rooftop event AND go to a bar afterwards that serves complimentary drinks. When we went, the bar served free beer for 90 minutes!! Can you get really drunk off of free beer for 90 minutes? OF COURSE you can!! I'm embarrassed you even asked. That is a long, long time. Both my friend and I got drunk. She was even drunk hiccuping, a lot!! Sorry for all the exclamation points, but I find unlimited drinks very exciting.
It was a fun party, with lots of people and good music, and the beer was abundant. The cast of the movie we saw was in attendance. They only talked to each other, but if you get drunk enough, which you will, I bet you will dive right into that exclusive conversation and get yourself a role in an upcoming blockbuster.
There were clear places you could go to replace your beer and it only required a little bit of fighting through the crowded room to get to those places. The bartenders were cool, but one must remember that they expect tips since service is not included in the deal. So spend a few dollars on tipping the bartenders...the deal will still be great.
I didn't even drink close to as fast as I should have, and I still got drunk, so I award this event series our highest rating: this place gets you drunk. If you are truly committed, you can absolutely just stand next to the bar for an hour and a half and drink like 20 beers and be incredibly drunk. If someone tries that please report back! As far as other notes go, this night will most likely inspire you to go drunkenly find a roof to hang out on, so definitely have a roof ready to go for a 2AM hangout session. My friend and I went to her absolutely ridiculously great uptown roof and it was perfect. So find one of those.
When it comes down to it, this blog doesn't really give a shit about music, movies. or even roofs. Surely, as people, Maia and I have music and movie preferences - we are not yet culturally neutral alcohol assassins - but in this blog we most certainly aim to be, and thus the point of this entry is to explain how the Rooftop Films Series can be an invaluable way to get drunk when you're broke.
For just twelve dollars, you get to go to this rooftop event AND go to a bar afterwards that serves complimentary drinks. When we went, the bar served free beer for 90 minutes!! Can you get really drunk off of free beer for 90 minutes? OF COURSE you can!! I'm embarrassed you even asked. That is a long, long time. Both my friend and I got drunk. She was even drunk hiccuping, a lot!! Sorry for all the exclamation points, but I find unlimited drinks very exciting.
It was a fun party, with lots of people and good music, and the beer was abundant. The cast of the movie we saw was in attendance. They only talked to each other, but if you get drunk enough, which you will, I bet you will dive right into that exclusive conversation and get yourself a role in an upcoming blockbuster.
There were clear places you could go to replace your beer and it only required a little bit of fighting through the crowded room to get to those places. The bartenders were cool, but one must remember that they expect tips since service is not included in the deal. So spend a few dollars on tipping the bartenders...the deal will still be great.
I didn't even drink close to as fast as I should have, and I still got drunk, so I award this event series our highest rating: this place gets you drunk. If you are truly committed, you can absolutely just stand next to the bar for an hour and a half and drink like 20 beers and be incredibly drunk. If someone tries that please report back! As far as other notes go, this night will most likely inspire you to go drunkenly find a roof to hang out on, so definitely have a roof ready to go for a 2AM hangout session. My friend and I went to her absolutely ridiculously great uptown roof and it was perfect. So find one of those.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
MexiBBQ Kitchen and Draught - $25
The All You Can Drink Brunch. Those simple words ring of hope in a city with 14-dollar cocktails and 9-dollar beers. There are an impressive amount of AYCD brunches sprinkled around the city, meaning that if the best ones can be located - the ones that get you truly drunk, cheaply - then they could be an important piece of the drinking puzzle. Maia and I set off for our first AYCD brunch with the same combination of optimism and determination present on the Mayflower in 1620.
The location was MexiBBQ, a Mexican-Barbecue fusion restaurant located in Astoria, Queens. Astoria is nothing short of a devilish labyrinth that I'm pretty sure was designed by brilliant city planners to keep out yuppies and hipsters for as long as possible, preserving the vibrant Greek community. It had Maia and me literally taking some kind of spiraling route, which we reversed about three times, but we eventually found the place and it was pretty fucking awesome.
We called before going and they said to get there before 12 (when the restaurant opens) in order to get a table quickly, but we got there around 12:30 and didn't have to wait long for a table at all. But if you want a table outside, get there before 12. The place is spacious and open to a nice, quiet street, and busy but not too crowded. Definitely a good atmosphere.
There is a 1.5 hour time limit on the brunch, which is plenty of time if you get quick refills of whatever you are drinking, and we definitely did. Our waitress was there whenever our glass was even close to empty, allowing us to drink at whatever pace we desired. Which, of course, was quick. She did politely ask us to leave after our time was up, but we felt we received exactly what we paid for.
THE MIMOSAS ARE STRONG. Like they taste more like champagne than orange juice. Maia and I drank only mimosas because we love them so, so much, but they also offer bloody mary's and Mexican beers. Anyway, this place gets you drunk. I don't remember a lot of this day, and I think that I have MexiBBQ to thank for that. I also dropped my goddamn iPhone in the Hudson River, so I maybe should have had one less mimosa.
Slight downside: This meal ended up costing us each about 25 dollars. I think that by this blog's standards, 25 dollars is a little bit pricey, and we're going to try and keep things at or under the 20-dollar mark. There are definitely cheaper AYCD brunches in the city that we will explore in the near future. But still, getting really drunk at a restaurant (and getting brunch!) for 25 dollars is pretty damn good.
Maia's note: The one other downside (for me at least) was that the food portions were on the small side -- which could be a problem if you wake up famished! But if you don't, you should be fine.
The location was MexiBBQ, a Mexican-Barbecue fusion restaurant located in Astoria, Queens. Astoria is nothing short of a devilish labyrinth that I'm pretty sure was designed by brilliant city planners to keep out yuppies and hipsters for as long as possible, preserving the vibrant Greek community. It had Maia and me literally taking some kind of spiraling route, which we reversed about three times, but we eventually found the place and it was pretty fucking awesome.
We called before going and they said to get there before 12 (when the restaurant opens) in order to get a table quickly, but we got there around 12:30 and didn't have to wait long for a table at all. But if you want a table outside, get there before 12. The place is spacious and open to a nice, quiet street, and busy but not too crowded. Definitely a good atmosphere.
There is a 1.5 hour time limit on the brunch, which is plenty of time if you get quick refills of whatever you are drinking, and we definitely did. Our waitress was there whenever our glass was even close to empty, allowing us to drink at whatever pace we desired. Which, of course, was quick. She did politely ask us to leave after our time was up, but we felt we received exactly what we paid for.
THE MIMOSAS ARE STRONG. Like they taste more like champagne than orange juice. Maia and I drank only mimosas because we love them so, so much, but they also offer bloody mary's and Mexican beers. Anyway, this place gets you drunk. I don't remember a lot of this day, and I think that I have MexiBBQ to thank for that. I also dropped my goddamn iPhone in the Hudson River, so I maybe should have had one less mimosa.
Slight downside: This meal ended up costing us each about 25 dollars. I think that by this blog's standards, 25 dollars is a little bit pricey, and we're going to try and keep things at or under the 20-dollar mark. There are definitely cheaper AYCD brunches in the city that we will explore in the near future. But still, getting really drunk at a restaurant (and getting brunch!) for 25 dollars is pretty damn good.
Maia's note: The one other downside (for me at least) was that the food portions were on the small side -- which could be a problem if you wake up famished! But if you don't, you should be fine.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Origin Story
Oh my god, y'all: drinking is expensive. Drinking is really fucking expensive.
We've just graduated from college, and this is the first summer we've
been 21, and we're two drinks in at the cheapest Midtown bar we could
find and we're not even tipsy yet. $12 down, each. The excitement of
finally being 21, of finally being able to go to bars, is fading
quickly.
We leave because fuck this, and accompany our friend AF to a Mexican restaurant down the street, where he gets some takeout because he hasn't eaten dinner yet. He's driving back to Rockland County in a few minutes, and isn't trying to get wasted. We are.
When he leaves, we hesitate in front of the wine store across the street before going in. This, obviously, is the way to do it: the cheapest -- the only -- way to get drunk. But how will we drink it? Where will we drink it? Do we need a paper bag?
We realize another thing, as we scan the shelves: we don't have a corkscrew. What are we going to do?! "Do you have a corkscrew?" I ask Joe. He doesn't. We keep walking, watching the wine prices go up and up as we walk further and further into the store. "Do you want to buy one now, and then you'll have one for life?" I ask, and he laughs and says, "Sure."
And thus, we learn Lesson #1: Always Bring a Corkscrew.
We walk and we walk and we walk, and we're about to give up when I say, "Joe. Joe," and I grab his arm. He turns, and he sees: huge, 1.5 liter bottles of wine, on sale for $8.99, with screw-on caps.
Problem solved!
We drink the entire thing on the Hudson, looking at the Jersey skyline and talking for hours. Lesson #2: Never Bring a Corkscrew.
--
Welcome to this blog. If you're anything like us, you've recently graduated from college with the highest tolerance of your life, only to discover that, in the real world, drinking is very, very expensive. This blog isn't to help you find the best drinks in New York City, or even the best deals in New York City ($50 for an $100 wine!). This blog isn't about ambiance, or places to take your date (unless your date is fucking awesome), or places with good food where you can also get tipsy. This blog is about where you can, with as little money as possible, get absolutely wasted.
Cheers!
Maia and Joe
We leave because fuck this, and accompany our friend AF to a Mexican restaurant down the street, where he gets some takeout because he hasn't eaten dinner yet. He's driving back to Rockland County in a few minutes, and isn't trying to get wasted. We are.
When he leaves, we hesitate in front of the wine store across the street before going in. This, obviously, is the way to do it: the cheapest -- the only -- way to get drunk. But how will we drink it? Where will we drink it? Do we need a paper bag?
We realize another thing, as we scan the shelves: we don't have a corkscrew. What are we going to do?! "Do you have a corkscrew?" I ask Joe. He doesn't. We keep walking, watching the wine prices go up and up as we walk further and further into the store. "Do you want to buy one now, and then you'll have one for life?" I ask, and he laughs and says, "Sure."
And thus, we learn Lesson #1: Always Bring a Corkscrew.
We walk and we walk and we walk, and we're about to give up when I say, "Joe. Joe," and I grab his arm. He turns, and he sees: huge, 1.5 liter bottles of wine, on sale for $8.99, with screw-on caps.
Problem solved!
We drink the entire thing on the Hudson, looking at the Jersey skyline and talking for hours. Lesson #2: Never Bring a Corkscrew.
--
Welcome to this blog. If you're anything like us, you've recently graduated from college with the highest tolerance of your life, only to discover that, in the real world, drinking is very, very expensive. This blog isn't to help you find the best drinks in New York City, or even the best deals in New York City ($50 for an $100 wine!). This blog isn't about ambiance, or places to take your date (unless your date is fucking awesome), or places with good food where you can also get tipsy. This blog is about where you can, with as little money as possible, get absolutely wasted.
Cheers!
Maia and Joe
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