Of course it's a little sad to not be with my family on Thanksgiving, but my god, New York is such a pleasure when everyone clears out. Holiday weekends make it possible to go out on the Lower East Side on a Friday night and not be suffocated by the descent of the usual choadfest.
Which is how we wound up at Bacaro last night. I don't go out very often on the weekends because I'm too much of a grandma, but seeing as how my chances of finding a date while sitting at my computer watching Law & Order SVU on Netflix streaming are strangely low, I've decided that it's time to get out there.
And it was a wonderfully brisk night, no? Just the right side of winter. A little hard and shiny but with a hidden heat, like the black patent heels I had on with plum tights. Like the delicate swirly stem of the wine glasses holding the warming, dark cherry Valpolicella we drank all night. Like the curlicued, shiny white plate holding up a round pool of velvet, buttery polenta and creamy, saline baccala.
We were there with our friends Andy and Jen, who were in town for the evening. Eventually, we had 8 people on the bar stools around the front seating area. We stayed for a good five hours, doting on the fresh face of our curly-haired waitress as Negronis and herbacious Aperol cocktails melted us like chocolate onto the cold marble slab table. Our crystal tumblers were never without water; a freshly lit white tapered candle replaced the one on our table that had gone down to three inches.
I could have stayed all night, alternating vino and nibbles, sending text invites to absent friends that went from cajoling to belligerent as the night progressed. Little fried meatballs arrived like shooter marbles in a glass cup, poppable and crunchy. When I felt the wine sway in my stomach, crumb-coated fried rice balls oozing a mess of mozzarella brought my thirst back.
Plenty of exposed dark bricks capture the flickering bling of the huge acrylic chandelier, the crystal on the tables, the sweet engraved mirror and the copious candlelight. The place definitely feels like it's been finished with a woman's touch, and the presence of many pretty women in ripped black lace, striped bustiers and Sol Moscot eyeglass frames were a testament to its feminine appeal. I'm sure it's a totally different scene on a busy weekend night, but I'm so very glad I got to see it like this.
Bacaro
136 Division St. btwn Ludlow and Orchard
F to East Broadway
Which is how we wound up at Bacaro last night. I don't go out very often on the weekends because I'm too much of a grandma, but seeing as how my chances of finding a date while sitting at my computer watching Law & Order SVU on Netflix streaming are strangely low, I've decided that it's time to get out there.
And it was a wonderfully brisk night, no? Just the right side of winter. A little hard and shiny but with a hidden heat, like the black patent heels I had on with plum tights. Like the delicate swirly stem of the wine glasses holding the warming, dark cherry Valpolicella we drank all night. Like the curlicued, shiny white plate holding up a round pool of velvet, buttery polenta and creamy, saline baccala.
We were there with our friends Andy and Jen, who were in town for the evening. Eventually, we had 8 people on the bar stools around the front seating area. We stayed for a good five hours, doting on the fresh face of our curly-haired waitress as Negronis and herbacious Aperol cocktails melted us like chocolate onto the cold marble slab table. Our crystal tumblers were never without water; a freshly lit white tapered candle replaced the one on our table that had gone down to three inches.
I could have stayed all night, alternating vino and nibbles, sending text invites to absent friends that went from cajoling to belligerent as the night progressed. Little fried meatballs arrived like shooter marbles in a glass cup, poppable and crunchy. When I felt the wine sway in my stomach, crumb-coated fried rice balls oozing a mess of mozzarella brought my thirst back.
Plenty of exposed dark bricks capture the flickering bling of the huge acrylic chandelier, the crystal on the tables, the sweet engraved mirror and the copious candlelight. The place definitely feels like it's been finished with a woman's touch, and the presence of many pretty women in ripped black lace, striped bustiers and Sol Moscot eyeglass frames were a testament to its feminine appeal. I'm sure it's a totally different scene on a busy weekend night, but I'm so very glad I got to see it like this.
Bacaro
136 Division St. btwn Ludlow and Orchard
F to East Broadway
Ha ha it's true. I had no memory of calling D. a bitch for not coming to see us til I got his belated reply next afternoon. Skimmed through my Sent Messages trying to figure out what he was talking about - Oh THAT bitch....right.
I should've texted Chloe to insist that she come up to our table, but I thought she'd just catch the look in my eye.
Ha! I haven't had that much fun in ages. Thank you for giving us the whiff of an excuse we needed to carouse. You guys must must must come up more often and be uncivilized with us.