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Barred: Acorn Lounge
Photo: The Old Oak InnWhen I become concerned that bar-hopping is the province of the young in big cities, I look to dispatches from my friend who moved last year from Crown Heights to a farm in Viroqua, Wisconsin (population 5,079). This is the scoop on the Acorn Lounge, part of a newly restored Victorian B&B.
The first hint should have been that there are NO stairs outside, just ramps everywhere and lots of them. Inside the place was hoppin’, packed with the spryest, loudest bunch of seventy-somethings I’ve ever seen. And this is probably why–a bar built with that exact crowd in mind: carpet everywhere and a sunken bar. Genius. The bartenders have to go down about five steps to get behind the taps, but the crowd gets to sit on padded, wide, wheeled 1980s chairs–like something from the Golden Girls set and just SO much easier than the comfortable barstools at Dead Rabbit. (ed. note: the best bar stools I’ve encountered to date.) For added comfort you can grab yourself an extra cushion from a stack near the bar and when you’re done a waitress rolls your chair back and helps you to your feet. On the digital jukebox: Bruno Mars, One Direction and Pink. Perfect.
Photo: The Old Oak Inn/FacebookPerfect, indeed. Plus, all the dairy-based drinks a mature constitution can handle. Also, what the heck is a Sneaky Pete, and where can I get one in NYC?
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Barred: Keens
When: 6:47pm, Wednesday
Keens’ bar room was filled with the expected after-work scrum, but I’d under-estimated the tourist factor, both seemingly Japanese and of the baggy denim and white tennis shoes persuasion. The primary benefit to so many out-of-towners is that their politeness and hesitancy can work in your favor: assertiveness and lack of respect for strangers’ personal space is practically required to get your $14 Manhattan during peak hours.
The crew of short, shouty men nearest to me included members who were recently married and recently celebrating 40th birthdays. One thought he was “more of a jerk” than when he was younger while another thought he’d mellowed out. “I don’t just jump on anybody for the fuck of it,” he declared, thoughtfully. The merits of Wolfgang’s vs. Empire Steak House were also discussed, but more importantly, Keens ranked highly because there were fewer women present than at other steakhouses.
Of course, there is the reclining nude over the bar, a.k.a Miss Keens, and a bun-less, fry-free burger named for her, yet I still wouldn’t lump Keens into the same category as Los Pollitos III and its gendered cocktails.
Age appropriate? Yes. Dark, woody bars that haven’t been fashioned to look dark in woody in the last five years, are usually safe bets.
