I just had dinner with my friend Judy at DBGB down on the Bowery. This is yet another restaurant in the Daniel Boulud empire, but more casual and less pricey. Nice room, lined with their entire wine cellar and beer list, with a wall of windows facing onto the Bowery so it's filled with lots of nice late-afternoon light.
Kind of an LA feel to the room, but in a good way. With the exception of Wall Street types, New Yorkers actually go to restaurants to eat and have conversations. (If you're wondering, Wall Streeters go out to dinner so they can unzip and slap their dicks on the table, then make the waitresses bring out tape measures.)
Great, friendly service and a pretty good burger, though I have to say Royale still wins, and they have a backyard where you can smoke. The strawberry-rhubarb tart was heavenly, just tart enough, and if there had been enough of it, I would have rolled around in the pistaschio mousse.
My only gripe is unisex bathrooms. I hate unisex bathrooms, because they present me with one of the great mysteries of life. Men, you basically have a hose and a giant bucket for a target. How is it that when presented with these things in public, you PEE ON THE FLOOR? I ask you, do you go home and pee on the floor? Which leads me to my next question: if you are a guy who pees on the floor as a matter of course, how the HELL did you find someone to marry you, you filthy motherfucker?
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