Christopher O.'s Profile

Still just as overpriced as ever. I was dragged along with a couple of friends who were bar hopping around beer bars in Park Slope, and left after seeing that they were serving drafts of Avery Maharaja IPA for $11.

Sorry - to the person who said "their beers are small batch and hard to come by," that's just not true. Some of their beers are rightfully pricey, but Avery Maharaja is very well-distributed within New York, and you can get it at most beer bars in Manhattan for $5-7. The bartenders are just as knowledgeable about the beer at these other beer bars, and you don't feel like a sucker while you drink it. Even most of the finest restaurants in Manhattan don't charge markups like Beer Table does.

Some reviewers said that some people "just don't understand why a draft beer should cost $15." Oh? Please, tell me why. Unless it was brewed with the rarest ingredients available on the other side of the globe and was shipped via UPS directly to Beer Table (which would be totally illegal to sell commercially, by the way), it shouldn't. I know how much craft beer costs. I know the costs these people pay to their distributors. Don't suggest that the detractors of this place don't know what they're talking about.

I am a huge proponent of craft beer, but anyone who has the nerve to inflate the price as much as Beer Table does is doing the craft beer industry more harm than good. The great thing about craft beer is that you can experience a wider variety of flavors and styles than wine for less than the price of a glass of wine. Craft beer is supposed to be accessible... not TWICE the price of a glass of wine. Regardless of the vibe on the inside, on principle alone, this place is beer snobbery at its worst.

Look, I know they're just trying to run a business, but I don't understand how they can sell these beers at these prices with a clear conscience.

In the search for a new seafood spot near my parents' new house, I ventured down to Weekapaug (while experiencing the barrage of "Wacky Waving Inflatable Arm-Flailing Tube Man" Family Guy references from friends) to check this spot out.

Unfortunately, it wasn't quite what I was looking for. I love the location - right by the breachway, so you can sit and watch the boats go by (as the high school kids jump off the bridge). The service was quick enough, and the chowder was solid. But the one item that's key to the Rhode Island seafood experience - the clam cake - fell flat. It was too doughy, with barely a hint of clam, and it could've used more time in the fryer to reach optimal crispiness.

Also, the chowder/clam cake combo was a full dollar more expensive than Iggy's or Aunt Carrie's. For $8.10 with tax, I'd expect something that can fill me up. But then again, that's what you get when you end up at a beach that's mobbed with snooty Connecticut families.

Hey, what are those things that look like cream-filled buns in the display case? They kind of resemble lobster rolls, but they're right next to the cookies.

Those are Bismarcks - delicious pastries that taste jelly donuts, yet are best eaten like hot dogs. These things melt in your mouth, and the cream filling is light and fluffy enough to keep you from feeling too awful about stuffing your face with them.

There's also some delicious-looking grinders and a lunch counter here, but I'll save those for another visit.

Tragic.

If you miss David's Bagels, PLEASE visit them on 1st between 19th and 20th. I wish I had the extra time in the morning to do it every day, but at least on the weekends, I can still enjoy the goodness of their everything bagel.

Also, boycott the Hot & Crusty that opened next door. The landlord's opening of this disgusting generic hellhole was the catalyst for forcing David's Bagels out of business at their East Village location. SHAME ON THEM!

This place is responsible for the closing of neighborhood landmark  David's Bagels, just two doors down 1st Avenue. The landlord forced out David's in favor of a disgusting generic chain he let open at the corner.

If you need any more convincing, the bagels are hard (not crusty... stale), the pizza sits in the window all day long and the place never has any air conditioning.

In the ongoing campaign to make Chris fat, Plan B has opened just a few blocks from my girlfriend's apartment. And there's no reason to think that I won't want to be there every other night.

It's a decent sports bar given its size (only 4 TVs, but a great outdoor patio for those who don't give a damn what A-Rod's OPS is), but its standard bar food - with a few twists - is the star of the show. The menu was limited when I went in, but the burger is juicy (a little too juicy to be easy to eat), served on a light, airy roll, and... stuffed with cheese! Yes, there is cheese INSIDE the burger. And somehow, the cheese wasn't scalding hot, but the burger was cooked all the way through. It's only American cheese, though... I wish there were other options.

As for the fries that accompanied it, they're perfect for someone like me who likes to bathe himself in garlic. The garlic parmesean fries are the real deal: shredded parmesean cheese and chopped garlic - not the sprinkled stuff out of a can. They really stink up the place, so beware of poachers who might want to saddle up and steal your fries!

Count me among the haters.

If you can't keep regular hours for your place of business, you won't get my business. Going by Artichoke was like rolling dice - even at peak hours, I never knew if it would be open.

If you can't manage a somewhat efficient system for handling the volume of business you get, you won't get my business. If they're going to man the restaurant for three hours before they finally open, they should be pumping out slices, not moving at a snail's pace.

Artichoke, your slice was good, but not worth the two weeks of trouble I went through to get it. Work out the kinks, deliver what you promise, and maybe I'll be back.

Arrow has become a regular part of my weekly routine for a couple reasons:

1. I host a trivia night there on Monday nights at 8pm. But I swear that aside from that plug, my review is completely unbiased.
2. They have a 2-FOR-1 HAPPY HOUR THAT RUNS UNTIL 9PM.

Seriously, #2 is reason enough, but their drinks are great any time. They have some creative cocktails, and their beer list, albeit smaller than its predecessor The Rook in the same location, is still quite strong and unique.

Arrow is a great subterranean hideout for those looking for a mellow nook or cranny during happy hour... then, the place heats up at night with some great tunes.

My date and I went to Mary Ann's on 2nd Avenue in the East Village. This was our biggest mistake. She wanted a margarita, so it was the most logical choice for dinner, but given my experience last night, even the Chipotle on St. Mark's would have been a better choice.

We walked in and were seated right away. There were about five occupied tables in the entire restaurant, so we pretty much had our pick of tables. And that was about the only good thing that happened in the entire hour and a half we were there.

First off, I sat down to look at the menu and saw roughly 27 mentions of the fact that the place is cash only. Welcome to the 21st century, Mary Ann's. I don't carry around wads of cash anymore for various reasons. One of those reasons is that when I go to a restaurant, I expect to be able to pay with a credit card. Don't give me this bullshit about transaction fees, either. Plenty of other restaurants have been accepting credit cards for years and get by just fine.

Realizing I had no cash on me, I told my date I'd run to the ATM down the street. She said she'd order me a drink while I was gone.

I stepped out, walked down the street to the Bank of America a block away, got some cash, and walked back to the restaurant. The whole process took roughly five minutes. By now, you'd expect that our drinks would be on the table.

"Yeah, uh, the waitress hasn't even come by yet," my date told me.

So we waited for her.

She walked by and took the order at another table.

And we waited.

She stood around by the bar, seemingly doing absolutely nothing but chatting with the bartender.

And we waited.

About ten minutes later, we flagged down a bus boy, who, expectedly, spoke little more than five words in English. We asked him, "can we get a waitress over here?"

"Yes, yes," he said, as he walked back towards the kitchen, shouting rather loudly at our waitress in Spanish.

At this point, you'd expect her to come right over to us. Instead, we waited another five minutes. I looked at my date. "Do you want to go?"

"I don't know," she said. "Do you?"

I took out my cell phone and put it on the table. "Two more minutes," I told her. "Starting... now." It was 7:05. We had walked into the restaurant around 6:45.

Finally, less than 30 seconds before we were about to get up and leave, the waitress finally came over and took our order. We ordered both drinks and our entrees, unsure that we'd ever see her again.

We should have left at that point.

We watched, dumbstruck, as the waitress continued to go about doing other things. After we ordered, she spent about ten minutes at the bar, then walked over to another table to serve them their drinks. It was at that point that my date very audibly stated, "I could really use that margarita right now."

The waitress then came over and told us, "your drinks should be right over."

Two minutes later, our food arrived. We still didn't have our drinks. It was at this point that I looked over and realized the problem with our drinks: the bartender wasn't bartending. Despite the fact that absolutely nobody was at the bar and he was standing behind the bar, he was not making any drinks. Regardless, ordering a margarita at a Mexican restaurant should not be an alien concept.

Finally, after sitting for several minutes with our dinners cooling in front of us, our drinks finally arrived. A margarita with salt, despite the fact that we specifically ordered it without salt. But at this point, there was no use in trying anymore. If we had her take our drinks back, we may never even get a drop of alcohol before we leave. And by then, we damn well needed some.

This whole meal was emotionally exhausting. The food was incredibly bland to boot, the waitress overcharged us for the margarita, and it took fifteen minutes of sitting in a near-empty restaurant with our near-empty plates before the waitress asked us if we needed anything else.

I was dumbfounded by this level of service. There was never a single apology made by our waitress. She didn't even try to come up with an excuse for the way we were treated. Never in my life have I been ignored in a restaurant the way I was in Mary Ann's last night. Except maybe on my last Delta flight.

For the first time in my life, I felt like the service truly deserved a sub-standard tip. On a $28.25 bill, I tipped her $2.75.  I have absolutely no intention of ever going back to Mary Ann's again. I think I was still too generous.

I went on a Saturday night, and before I even stepped through the doors, I knew I wouldn't like this place. It was packed with the crowd that typically packs a kitchy place that gets promoted to holy hell. It was full of people who were there so they can say they went there first, go there to be seen.

The place is loud, the crowd is obnoxious, and the prices are a little ridiculous.

Did I mention the place was loud?

This is the first bar that wasn't a music venue that I've ever been to where my ears were ringing for hours after I walked out. It was so uncomfortable that I felt like they wanted me to leave the second I walked in.