You’ve learned that this time of year is all about versatility.
Sweaters that’ll keep you warm, but not hot.
Umbrellas that’ll weather a gale and then fold into your wallet.
Bars that mix sunbathing and sausage...
Introducing Tavern 29, three levels of ambitious cocktails, hefty burgerage and a spontaneously German rooftop from the good folks who brought you Stone Street Tavern, opening Monday in NoMad.
This is sort of a tale of two establishments. The first two floors: deep, dark-wooded indoor enclaves of classic oak and brass, tufted banquettes and intricate chandelierishness. All of it firmly indoors, and all of it perfect for that grilled hanger steak and absinthe-infused rum cocktail daycap you’ve been working toward. You’ve even got a few aggressively private group booths, in case you need extra focus for those cornmeal-crusted oysters.
And while all of that’s stupendous, everything changes when you climb that last flight of stairs. You open a door to a white light, shield your eyes and look around. Shrubs. Tables. Refined soccer hooliganism. Yes, it’s the cozy German beer garden you were hoping you’d find up there. And it’s soon going to have its own dedicated sausage menu.
As any self-respecting ceiling-less drinking area should.
Sweaters that’ll keep you warm, but not hot.
Umbrellas that’ll weather a gale and then fold into your wallet.
Bars that mix sunbathing and sausage...
Introducing Tavern 29, three levels of ambitious cocktails, hefty burgerage and a spontaneously German rooftop from the good folks who brought you Stone Street Tavern, opening Monday in NoMad.
This is sort of a tale of two establishments. The first two floors: deep, dark-wooded indoor enclaves of classic oak and brass, tufted banquettes and intricate chandelierishness. All of it firmly indoors, and all of it perfect for that grilled hanger steak and absinthe-infused rum cocktail daycap you’ve been working toward. You’ve even got a few aggressively private group booths, in case you need extra focus for those cornmeal-crusted oysters.
And while all of that’s stupendous, everything changes when you climb that last flight of stairs. You open a door to a white light, shield your eyes and look around. Shrubs. Tables. Refined soccer hooliganism. Yes, it’s the cozy German beer garden you were hoping you’d find up there. And it’s soon going to have its own dedicated sausage menu.
As any self-respecting ceiling-less drinking area should.
