The Upper East Side.
You can practically hear the crickets chirping.
But wait. What’s tha—glasses clinking. Merriment... The sound of buttermilk fried-chicken crunching...
Step with gusto into The Penrose, three UES rooms of wood-and-brick boisterousness aided by a rotating scotch menu and a Michelin-starred chef, now open from the Wren and Wilfie & Nell folks.
This is the sort of cool grandpa’s rocking chair of a tavern the neighborhood aches for. Three-sided plush booths flanked by vintage luggage and backroom nooks where deep thoughts will be shared (basically the Wren, but bigger and with 37% more old portraits). Also: less deep thoughts. Also also: pints dispensed by heavy-brogued barmen who call you “brother” and exclaim “You’re empty” with genuine concern when you’re in need of another round.
It’s a first-date litmus test, really. If your companion seems to like the place (and its spiced beef sandwiches and “remedies” that include whiskey and OJ), you might have second-date material on your hands. If not, well, it might be time to call it an evening because, oh, look at the time, and you’ve got an early day tomorrow and...
Ten minutes later...
You’ve circled the block, returned and ordered up a couple of battered Irish sausages and a Murphy’s Irish Stout.
That worked out nicely.
You can practically hear the crickets chirping.
But wait. What’s tha—glasses clinking. Merriment... The sound of buttermilk fried-chicken crunching...
Step with gusto into The Penrose, three UES rooms of wood-and-brick boisterousness aided by a rotating scotch menu and a Michelin-starred chef, now open from the Wren and Wilfie & Nell folks.
This is the sort of cool grandpa’s rocking chair of a tavern the neighborhood aches for. Three-sided plush booths flanked by vintage luggage and backroom nooks where deep thoughts will be shared (basically the Wren, but bigger and with 37% more old portraits). Also: less deep thoughts. Also also: pints dispensed by heavy-brogued barmen who call you “brother” and exclaim “You’re empty” with genuine concern when you’re in need of another round.
It’s a first-date litmus test, really. If your companion seems to like the place (and its spiced beef sandwiches and “remedies” that include whiskey and OJ), you might have second-date material on your hands. If not, well, it might be time to call it an evening because, oh, look at the time, and you’ve got an early day tomorrow and...
Ten minutes later...
You’ve circled the block, returned and ordered up a couple of battered Irish sausages and a Murphy’s Irish Stout.
That worked out nicely.
