Mr. Dennehy's
63 Carmine St. (7th Ave. South), Manhattan
30toMidnight did not remember that our first trip to Mr. Dennehy's was the birthday party of researcher Annie. That was forever ago. Not that we're calling Annie old, just Age Appropriate, of course. Anyway, we were pleased to see exclusively AAs - some eating, all drinking, some watching soccer - when we entered the bar. Bartender says it's always this way. Annie had another birthday this month, perhaps we'll be back to reminisce.
Hotel Griffou
21 W. 9th St. (5th Ave.), Manhattan
Good things always happen when we're out researching with Annie. AAs like her, AIs like her, she's smart and fun and quick to share her champagne with those of us who sometimes get slurry. Slurring, by the way, is a nonnegative sign of complete relaxation, something we all need to experience.
Standing under the low ceilings at the AA-crowded bar of designedly nondescript Hotel Griffou (which is not a hotel though we've categorized it under hotel bar, mostly because like actual hotel bars it's AA), we considered beverages while contemplating the disproportionate number of gentleman, many in sports coats. Like.
Then Sara, who can identify about three nonathlete personalities, tapped Annie and said, "Hey," just as Annie said, um, well, she said the full name of ThisChef. And, since they'd met before, Annie reached out her hand and said hi.
ThisChef is the perfect embodiment of AA: 38, charming, successful, parent to be, not afraid to knock a mostly melted candle onto Sara's shirt, skirt and leg (the same leg that, earlier, took a hit from David Adler's
Amidst chatting up other bar patrons and fielding fans ("Your restaurant is the Most Bangingest," said one), ThisChef met with his agent, an AI who, yes, is one of those rule exceptions. We talked about sake, shiksas, stupidsoxfans, and chefs. A most bangingest time was had by all. We’ll be back, but we will not order the crab dip, and neither should you unless you’re craving cheese-drowned-carrot-heavy-mirepoix.
Bongo
West St. (W. 10th St.), Manhattan
Three different rooms and hardly anyone to fill them, though those inside are AA. We're not into the eclectic barware (don't serve a sauvignon blanc in a heavy, thick, purple, glass goblet) or the mixed drinks (don't throw all the pith and rind into the blender when an ingredient is grapefruit; don't use club soda when tonic was requested) or some of the service (don't tell us a credit card is denied if you only tried once). But the lobster salad on tiny dinner rolls are addictive and the cole slaw that accompanies the platter is fantastic. That said, the menu is hard to open (bad clasp placement) and feels dirty. Wow does this sound super negative when really we were thinking we'd like to host a party at the new Bongo, in either the front, blueish room that somewhat resembles a lobby, or the smaller, back, reddish room that's more living room-like?
pictured: chardonnay in a glass with a flipped over rim like a vase, or a collar.
Cabrito
50 Carmine St. (Bedford), Manhattan
Early happy hour ends at 7pm at Cabrito (at bar and tables). By 7:20pm what what previously crowded-Age Appropriate-standing room only becomes empty, waiting for 8pm when the crowd again arrives.
It's like this every night, bartender says. And mostly Age Appropriate too, though not for the Late Night happy hour (11pm-2am, Thursday-Sunday) which is mostly (but not wholly) Age InAppropriate.
What we most enjoyed while enjoying our Rajas con Crema was watching a group of four boys (the only AIs in the house) do two shots each in five minutes between finishing dinner and walking out the door.
Village Tavern
46 Bedford St. (Leroy St.), Manhattan
The last time (well, one time) we were here, Sara thought she might be entering a relationship with a Colombian oligarch. He was smart, had a killer accent, and no intention of engaging in anything moral with our sweet heroine. These days we are at least ten years older than any potential partners at the Village Tavern on a Saturday night, but it's still an enjoyable bar, mostly in daylight if AA is your care.
Bleecker Heights Tavern
296 Bleecker St. (7th Ave. South), Manhattan
If we knew the name of this place we'd tell you. A call to the Five Guys below provided no clarity ("Hey, Julius, what's the name of the bar upstairs? No, the one upstairs. Upstairs"). We're going with Bleecker-Heights-Tavern-Magic-Hat-Five-Guys where the bartender told us, "It's usually kind of older in here, like 25 to 35."
We didn't even see anyone as old as 25 when we stopped in, but we did enjoy the cool view of Seventh Avenue South.
Kingswood
121 W. 10th St. (Greenwich Ave.), Manhattan
The last time Sara went to Kingswood, a Saturday, the bar was barely Age Appropriate and she's pretty sure she got roofied. Seriously. Not sure if it happened upstairs with her sparking rose (did she have sparking rose?), or downstairs with her beer (did she have a beer?). Either way, it was a night unlike any other. This night there were no roofies, but there were plenty of AA's talking, mingling, snacking, chilling. Bartender confirms what we suspect: Age Appropriate Before Midnight, especially on weekends.
Saturday, 9:45pm
Tavern on Jane
31 Eighth Ave. (Jane St.), Manhattan
Last weekend, Sara was out with Annie, drinking ginger ale at the bar at Tavern on Jane. Bar ginger ale is delicious, especially when you're still sort of recovering from your Wednesday (yes that was three days earlier; we're AA, accept it).
Tavern on Jane is both restaurant and bar. It is not an inn (as "tavern" might suggest to anyone who reads). Anyway, it's Age Appropriate in there at tables and bar, not including one patron who deemed himself Mixologist, and who was instructing his 34-year-old friend on "bar etiquette." As in: "Excuse me, ladies, but my friend is teaching me bar etiquette and he says I should come over here and offer to pay your entire tab, drinks and meal. Would you like me to pay your entire tab?"
Uh, your friend said what?
"My friend is teaching me about bars. You see, I've only had five glasses of wine in my life so he's teaching me how to go out. Would you like me to pay your entire tab?"
We'd just been served a chicken quesadilla, following a salad, which made his timing as awkward as his proposition.
Annie (to Sara, fork in hand): He keeps saying entire.
Sara (to Propositioner): And what do we have to do?
Propositioner: Nothing. My friend tells me this is bar etiquette. I simply want to pay your entire tab.
Annie: I don't think so.
Sara: Hang on. We just got our food. Can we think about it and get back to you?
Propositioner: Of course.
All eyes are on us as he walks back to his stool. We try not to laugh.
Annie: What was that about?
Sara: I think we should do it.
Annie: I don't want to have to talk to him.
Sara: I don't think we're going to have to.
Annie: Why did he keep saying entire?
Sara: Who could possibly think this is bar etiquette?
We keep our heads down and laugh, then hear a voice ask, with dismay, "You offered to pay for their food too?" We're hysterical, as is everyone at the bar, but we're all keeping it to ourselves, for now.
The bartender approaches us: Two gentlemen want to pay your tab, but said I should ask you first.
Sara: We're trying to make sense of that.
Bartender: Do you want me to flip a coin?
Annie: We don't want to have to talk to them.
Bartender: They're paying their tab too. They're leaving.
Sara: Done. Tell them thank you and yes.
On their way out, the Propositioner admits to being 34 (AA!). His mentor is maybe 25, won't admit his age, spits on Annie while speaking, and does not know "73rd and Lex" (where he allegedly bartends two days a week) is the Upper East Side.
We spend the next hour in hysterics with our half of the bar and the bartender (all AA locals), analyzing. It's a wonderful world, and dinner was good too.
