Someone once said that humility is a virtue.
Hint: it wasn’t this place...
It’s time to storm Bastille Kitchen, 11,000 square feet of French things that you can eat and drink, expecting to open next week in Fort Point.
Here now, three distinct plans of attack:
For your summer second-date headquarters.
You’ll have over 200 seating choices between the airy upstairs dining room, the substantial oak bar and the wood-banquette-filled lounge. But your best bet is a two-top booth for some vanilla butter-poached lobster. Just the way God intended it to be poached.
For some conspicuous dinner partying.
Sealed behind that pair of towering French doors upstairs is a little room with a massive wooden mantelpiece and three long tables. You’ll officiate the champagne-fueled, oyster-heavy happenings in a high velvet seat at the head of the table. Mmm, velvet.
For suddenly having a cognac lair.
We’re talking about the Chalet. It’s a subterranean lounge that looks like a cross between a French Alpine retreat and Winterfell, with its own granite bar, twin faux-antler chandeliers and formidable tartan sofas. Best experienced while sipping a Maison Julep (cognac, sugar, mint...) in an armchair with carved lion heads for armrests.
Sorry if you wanted tigers.
Hint: it wasn’t this place...
It’s time to storm Bastille Kitchen, 11,000 square feet of French things that you can eat and drink, expecting to open next week in Fort Point.
Here now, three distinct plans of attack:
For your summer second-date headquarters.
You’ll have over 200 seating choices between the airy upstairs dining room, the substantial oak bar and the wood-banquette-filled lounge. But your best bet is a two-top booth for some vanilla butter-poached lobster. Just the way God intended it to be poached.
For some conspicuous dinner partying.
Sealed behind that pair of towering French doors upstairs is a little room with a massive wooden mantelpiece and three long tables. You’ll officiate the champagne-fueled, oyster-heavy happenings in a high velvet seat at the head of the table. Mmm, velvet.
For suddenly having a cognac lair.
We’re talking about the Chalet. It’s a subterranean lounge that looks like a cross between a French Alpine retreat and Winterfell, with its own granite bar, twin faux-antler chandeliers and formidable tartan sofas. Best experienced while sipping a Maison Julep (cognac, sugar, mint...) in an armchair with carved lion heads for armrests.
Sorry if you wanted tigers.
