As far back as you can remember, you wanted to be a fireman. Responding to distress calls, polishing the
brass, bunking down in the firehouse.
Or failing that, at least drinking in one.
Because it’s time to add Sixth Engine to your roster of go-to cocktailing dens, opening Friday for dinner.
This is the kind of spot where you’ll go to celebrate your everyday heroism—it was DC’s first fire station, circa 1855, and it’s festooned with carved wood eagles, flags and Rockwell-ian murals.
There are two ways to play it here. First, make a reservation and head to the airy upstairs dining room, where the brick walls and windows go up for miles. There, you and the rest of your brave fellowship can pass around comfort food like grilled tenderloin with black truffles and foie gras pierogies, or duck confit scrapple with a poached egg.
Or stick to the cozy downstairs bar, all dark blue and wood, where you’ll summon your bartender (sure, call him “Smokey”) for drafts from the chrome-and-copper tap tower, or Prohibition-era cocktails like the Prescription Julep—cognac, rye, mint and a float of Gosling’s rum.
Coming this spring: a 46-seat brick patio out front, where you can brunch under a giant flag and the firehouse’s original shield.
A good place to tie up your dalmatian.
Or failing that, at least drinking in one.
Because it’s time to add Sixth Engine to your roster of go-to cocktailing dens, opening Friday for dinner.
This is the kind of spot where you’ll go to celebrate your everyday heroism—it was DC’s first fire station, circa 1855, and it’s festooned with carved wood eagles, flags and Rockwell-ian murals.
There are two ways to play it here. First, make a reservation and head to the airy upstairs dining room, where the brick walls and windows go up for miles. There, you and the rest of your brave fellowship can pass around comfort food like grilled tenderloin with black truffles and foie gras pierogies, or duck confit scrapple with a poached egg.
Or stick to the cozy downstairs bar, all dark blue and wood, where you’ll summon your bartender (sure, call him “Smokey”) for drafts from the chrome-and-copper tap tower, or Prohibition-era cocktails like the Prescription Julep—cognac, rye, mint and a float of Gosling’s rum.
Coming this spring: a 46-seat brick patio out front, where you can brunch under a giant flag and the firehouse’s original shield.
A good place to tie up your dalmatian.
