Eggs. Bacon. Bloody Mary.
You could eat it every Sunday for the rest of your life if you had to.
But you don’t. And that’s a good thing.
Because sometimes you require eggs, bacon and a Bloody Mary with a gigantic side of champagne-spraying s**t show.
And for that, you’ll come here...
Introducing 31, a European-style (in every sense of the term) terrace bar with a bubbly-drenched Sunday brunch party, slated to open tomorrow above Bistro 31.
If you’re sitting on the shores of Saint-Tropez right now, draped in white linen and sipping rosé, then first, pour out some SPF 5 for us, and second, stop reading, because you already have a pretty good idea about the vibe here. Picture a red-tiled terrace, walls covered in shrubbery and a champagne room (but of course).
Monday to Saturday: perfectly fine time to bring a bunch of clients here for caviar, martinis and patio-based small talk. But come by on Sunday (starting June 17) and you’ll need to be prepared for two things: 1) pulsating French music, and 2) more champagne-spraying than a World Series postgame locker room celebration.
Sure, everything will start innocently enough. Bread basket. Mimosas. Denver omelet. But that’s the calm before the storm. Because suddenly, without warning, the music will pick up. Corks will explode. Sparklers will ignite. And tables will turn into dance floors.
Figuratively.
They’re not Transformers.
Sorry.
You could eat it every Sunday for the rest of your life if you had to.
But you don’t. And that’s a good thing.
Because sometimes you require eggs, bacon and a Bloody Mary with a gigantic side of champagne-spraying s**t show.
And for that, you’ll come here...
Introducing 31, a European-style (in every sense of the term) terrace bar with a bubbly-drenched Sunday brunch party, slated to open tomorrow above Bistro 31.
If you’re sitting on the shores of Saint-Tropez right now, draped in white linen and sipping rosé, then first, pour out some SPF 5 for us, and second, stop reading, because you already have a pretty good idea about the vibe here. Picture a red-tiled terrace, walls covered in shrubbery and a champagne room (but of course).
Monday to Saturday: perfectly fine time to bring a bunch of clients here for caviar, martinis and patio-based small talk. But come by on Sunday (starting June 17) and you’ll need to be prepared for two things: 1) pulsating French music, and 2) more champagne-spraying than a World Series postgame locker room celebration.
Sure, everything will start innocently enough. Bread basket. Mimosas. Denver omelet. But that’s the calm before the storm. Because suddenly, without warning, the music will pick up. Corks will explode. Sparklers will ignite. And tables will turn into dance floors.
Figuratively.
They’re not Transformers.
Sorry.
