So much interesting stuff happens underground.
Mass transit, all this millennium’s good music, the mole-people society and... this place.
Step into B.B.R., a wood-covered underground hull of cocktails and the foods that love them, now open underneath Rye in Williamsburg. (And forget we mentioned the mole people.)
The name stands for “Bar Below Rye,” so... mystery solved. It’s the kind of darkness-pierced-by-sconce-light spot where you have no idea how much time’s passed since you arrived. And you won’t care. Because that time’s been spent, we hope, digging into St. Louis–style ribs with housemade tamarind barbecue sauce and taking down Northern Tonics (aquavit, gin, saffron liqueur, celery bitters and cucumber).
Finding it: just to the right of the entrance to Rye proper, there’s a stairway. Descend. Voilà, you’re in. The menu’s completely different from upstairs, save for the meat loaf sandwich (cue sighs of relief).
They’re pretty flexible with the whole space for now, so go nuts. If your mission is romance, the candlelit two-tops along the right wall excel at the companion-having thing. If you’ve brought a dozen people clamoring for bottled Old Fashioneds and three-day-cooked pork belly sandwiches, consider it done.
Of course, that raises the whole “sharing” problem...
Mass transit, all this millennium’s good music, the mole-people society and... this place.
Step into B.B.R., a wood-covered underground hull of cocktails and the foods that love them, now open underneath Rye in Williamsburg. (And forget we mentioned the mole people.)
The name stands for “Bar Below Rye,” so... mystery solved. It’s the kind of darkness-pierced-by-sconce-light spot where you have no idea how much time’s passed since you arrived. And you won’t care. Because that time’s been spent, we hope, digging into St. Louis–style ribs with housemade tamarind barbecue sauce and taking down Northern Tonics (aquavit, gin, saffron liqueur, celery bitters and cucumber).
Finding it: just to the right of the entrance to Rye proper, there’s a stairway. Descend. Voilà, you’re in. The menu’s completely different from upstairs, save for the meat loaf sandwich (cue sighs of relief).
They’re pretty flexible with the whole space for now, so go nuts. If your mission is romance, the candlelit two-tops along the right wall excel at the companion-having thing. If you’ve brought a dozen people clamoring for bottled Old Fashioneds and three-day-cooked pork belly sandwiches, consider it done.
Of course, that raises the whole “sharing” problem...
