Lots of stuff happening around the White House these days.
Bleachers going up. Perimeters being extended. Manhole covers being welded shut.
And for something completely different, the St. Regis is lifting the curtain on its game-changing, $2 million new bar.
It’s called... stay seated for this one... The St. Regis Bar, and it opens tomorrow.
So the name: not terribly creative, we know. But the room: it’s a stunner. The kind of gilded-meets-modern place—original carved ceiling from 1926, chandelier made from crystals and leather—where you’ll be tempted to order up a giant martini, cold and dry.
And you can do that, sure, at the semicircular bar after work. But while you’re plotting your role in the next inauguration, you’ll need the creativity that punches named for Andrew Jackson and cocktails like the Lost Spaniard (sherry, mezcal, vermouth, burnt orange) can bring.
But the better play is to show up with a date, grab a pair of wingback chairs near the fireplace and peruse the wine list—a couple dozen offerings from champagnes to older Bordeaux, available by the glass, carafe or bottle.
If things are going swimmingly with your new friend, stick around for scaled-down plates from Adour next door, like lamb sliders, pasta with sweetbreads or caramelized duck breast with figs.
Which was huge in 1926.
Bleachers going up. Perimeters being extended. Manhole covers being welded shut.
And for something completely different, the St. Regis is lifting the curtain on its game-changing, $2 million new bar.
It’s called... stay seated for this one... The St. Regis Bar, and it opens tomorrow.
So the name: not terribly creative, we know. But the room: it’s a stunner. The kind of gilded-meets-modern place—original carved ceiling from 1926, chandelier made from crystals and leather—where you’ll be tempted to order up a giant martini, cold and dry.
And you can do that, sure, at the semicircular bar after work. But while you’re plotting your role in the next inauguration, you’ll need the creativity that punches named for Andrew Jackson and cocktails like the Lost Spaniard (sherry, mezcal, vermouth, burnt orange) can bring.
But the better play is to show up with a date, grab a pair of wingback chairs near the fireplace and peruse the wine list—a couple dozen offerings from champagnes to older Bordeaux, available by the glass, carafe or bottle.
If things are going swimmingly with your new friend, stick around for scaled-down plates from Adour next door, like lamb sliders, pasta with sweetbreads or caramelized duck breast with figs.
Which was huge in 1926.
