This is big.
As in shiny-new-cocktail-oasis-in-a-desert-of-not-so-shiny-watering-holes... big.
Also: literally huge.
It’s called the Liberty, and it’s a cavernous hall of old-school cocktails and late-night publy morsels just off Herald Square, opening May 1.
This is the post-work haven of anything-but-another-Irish-bar this area is starved for. A kind of un-New-York-like spot with enough real estate to stretch out and just enjoy the hell out of Reuben-topped hot dogs and mac and cheese carbonara. On the potation front: two drinks for each of the five boroughs (you’ll never guess what they’ve got for Manhattan).
You’ll need backup here. Parched friends, coworkers—basically anyone you can round up to monopolize one of the six-person tabletops up front. Yes, that’s a DJ perched in the back. Ignore him. The strategy is to fortify for what could be a long night (the kitchen’s open until 2am; the bar, 4am) of liquid-based storytelling with some oysters or duck-fat fries. Then follow with a headlong dive into the pisco-lemon-mint concoction the South Bronx is about to be known for.
But let’s say you’ve underestimated your rounding-up skills. And you’ve got, oh, 100 people looking to unwind. Well, for every such problem, there’s a private, subterranean solution with a dedicated bartender.
Your solutions always have their own bartenders.
As in shiny-new-cocktail-oasis-in-a-desert-of-not-so-shiny-watering-holes... big.
Also: literally huge.
It’s called the Liberty, and it’s a cavernous hall of old-school cocktails and late-night publy morsels just off Herald Square, opening May 1.
This is the post-work haven of anything-but-another-Irish-bar this area is starved for. A kind of un-New-York-like spot with enough real estate to stretch out and just enjoy the hell out of Reuben-topped hot dogs and mac and cheese carbonara. On the potation front: two drinks for each of the five boroughs (you’ll never guess what they’ve got for Manhattan).
You’ll need backup here. Parched friends, coworkers—basically anyone you can round up to monopolize one of the six-person tabletops up front. Yes, that’s a DJ perched in the back. Ignore him. The strategy is to fortify for what could be a long night (the kitchen’s open until 2am; the bar, 4am) of liquid-based storytelling with some oysters or duck-fat fries. Then follow with a headlong dive into the pisco-lemon-mint concoction the South Bronx is about to be known for.
But let’s say you’ve underestimated your rounding-up skills. And you’ve got, oh, 100 people looking to unwind. Well, for every such problem, there’s a private, subterranean solution with a dedicated bartender.
Your solutions always have their own bartenders.
