Sunday, May 8, 2011
It was even better inside. The interior was laden with red velvet, dark wood, and antique tchotchkes that were actually more conversation pieces than eyesore. A stunning blown glass chandelier hung over our heads and a collection of people that were veritably bourgeois themselves chatted and sipped wine around us. And speaking of wine, the list of cocktails was staggering. I had no idea where to start. For a bar that makes cocktails with just wine and beer, they had a collection rivaling Wildhorn's collection of Broadway flops (sorry, I had to). I had a concoction called the E.V. Swill that had muddled lime and mint, Lustau Pedro Ximinez sherry and was topped with champagne. Yum-a-licious. Summer had a Bergamot Toddy (Earl grey infused Lillet, lemon, honey, and pineapple). We were off to a good start. I took a moment to read the rest of the cocktail menu and decided this place would warrant another visit as I wanted to try more than I should in one sitting.
As the evening came upon us and the effects of our imbibement began to take hold, we sleepily headed out and grabbed cabs headed toward our beds. I glanced out the cab window as we drove away and decided, despite my aversion toward avenues with letters, streets that shouldn't intersect, and patchouli, to head back to "the pig" some time in the near future. I figure some experiences are worth a little trek into unknown territory. And who knows? Maybe they'll open one in midtown someday.