This really doesn’t have to be complicated.
Start with the basics:
LaFrieda burgers. PEI bivalves. Mellow corn whiskey.
Add in a few big guns:
The team behind Locanda Verde, the designers from the Boom Boom Room and the old location of the Cub Room.
And all of a sudden you have the confident new American beaut of a restaurant that’s poised to take hold of SoHo with an iron grip this very night.
It’s called The Dutch, a downtown restaurant that recalls P.J. Clarke’s and represents everything great about America—namely: giant oyster platters, bone-in chops and the freedom to enjoy a slice of homemade pie with a side of barrel-aged rye, open now for late nights and later this week for reservations.
If Sinatra were alive today, this is the kind of omnivorous den of dark-stained oak and cream-colored brick he would’ve frequented for supper. But he’s not. So that means a higher probability of you waltzing in on a Saturday night, landing an elevated corner booth, snapping your fingers at a martini and watching the grand SoHo parade amble by through the giant picture windows.
Open for breakfast, lunch, dinner and breakfast-for-dinner, this tavern is where you’ll go for pretty much everything except sleeping and showering. This includes Hot Fried Chicken with Honey Butter Biscuits, a seven-ounce LaFrieda patty on an Orwasher’s bun and oysters from the great state of Rhode Island.
Really can’t emphasize the no-showering rule enough.
Start with the basics:
LaFrieda burgers. PEI bivalves. Mellow corn whiskey.
Add in a few big guns:
The team behind Locanda Verde, the designers from the Boom Boom Room and the old location of the Cub Room.
And all of a sudden you have the confident new American beaut of a restaurant that’s poised to take hold of SoHo with an iron grip this very night.
It’s called The Dutch, a downtown restaurant that recalls P.J. Clarke’s and represents everything great about America—namely: giant oyster platters, bone-in chops and the freedom to enjoy a slice of homemade pie with a side of barrel-aged rye, open now for late nights and later this week for reservations.
If Sinatra were alive today, this is the kind of omnivorous den of dark-stained oak and cream-colored brick he would’ve frequented for supper. But he’s not. So that means a higher probability of you waltzing in on a Saturday night, landing an elevated corner booth, snapping your fingers at a martini and watching the grand SoHo parade amble by through the giant picture windows.
Open for breakfast, lunch, dinner and breakfast-for-dinner, this tavern is where you’ll go for pretty much everything except sleeping and showering. This includes Hot Fried Chicken with Honey Butter Biscuits, a seven-ounce LaFrieda patty on an Orwasher’s bun and oysters from the great state of Rhode Island.
Really can’t emphasize the no-showering rule enough.
