Dating Rule #264: Always protect your mystique.
Dating Rule #1,522, Subsection F: Candlelit beer patios with secret alleyway entrances are mystique gold.
Watch your step walking into Birreria Roma, a tiny little garden of Eden, beer and pizza accessible only by secret passage, taking reservations now in the Village.
First of all: no, it’s not affiliated with the Eataly rooftop of similar name. It’s also... a bit less ambitious. And really, all the better for it. Because you’ve got first-date intrigue/intimacy here. Plus, the four most important components of intimacy: Italian beers, ridiculous wine cocktails, painfully charming potted herbs and soppressata pizza.
You need to know a few things going in—like the owner. He’s pretty lax about giving his number out, and he just wants you to make a reservation before your journey into this Christmas-light-adorned botanical utopia goes down. The reason for these measures: the entrance. You won’t get there through sister restaurant Pizza Roma (you’ll be met with stony Italian silence if you try). The garden has its own small door leading to an alley on Cornelia Street, and you’ll call Andrea, the owner, to come let you in once you’re there.
Twenty feet later, you’ll settle into some getting-to-know-you Brooklyn AMA Biondas with carbonara pies on a 15-by-20 trellised patio.
Somewhere, they’re writing a dating rule about trellises.
Dating Rule #1,522, Subsection F: Candlelit beer patios with secret alleyway entrances are mystique gold.
Watch your step walking into Birreria Roma, a tiny little garden of Eden, beer and pizza accessible only by secret passage, taking reservations now in the Village.
First of all: no, it’s not affiliated with the Eataly rooftop of similar name. It’s also... a bit less ambitious. And really, all the better for it. Because you’ve got first-date intrigue/intimacy here. Plus, the four most important components of intimacy: Italian beers, ridiculous wine cocktails, painfully charming potted herbs and soppressata pizza.
You need to know a few things going in—like the owner. He’s pretty lax about giving his number out, and he just wants you to make a reservation before your journey into this Christmas-light-adorned botanical utopia goes down. The reason for these measures: the entrance. You won’t get there through sister restaurant Pizza Roma (you’ll be met with stony Italian silence if you try). The garden has its own small door leading to an alley on Cornelia Street, and you’ll call Andrea, the owner, to come let you in once you’re there.
Twenty feet later, you’ll settle into some getting-to-know-you Brooklyn AMA Biondas with carbonara pies on a 15-by-20 trellised patio.
Somewhere, they’re writing a dating rule about trellises.
