There’s this thing called the Park that just opened.
It’s an outdoor eating, drinking and doing-fun-stuff district between New York-New York and Monte Carlo that involves, among other things, a spacious beer garden, a very sake-forward balcony and a 40-foot-tall sculpture of a dancing lady.
You’re going to want to spend an entire day there, so you might consider 1) checking out this slideshow, and 2) heeding the sage wisdom below...
By Day: Beerhaus
It’s 10am. Or noon. Yeah, noon’s more like it. And you’re on the prowl for beer. So you go here. You drink a Trappist ale or one of their myriad draft brews with an IPA cheddarwurst in one hand and a ping-pong paddle in the other. You head outside for a heated Connect Four match. Next thing you know, the sun has set. Speaking of which...
By Night: Sake Rok
This place is like a Japanese warehouse dance party that ran headfirst into sushi, foie-gras-buttered tomahawk steak and sake-spiked punch, shouted, “Well, excuse me,” and carried on, unabated, into the wee hours of the morning. So, basically, it’s fun.
By Whenever-You’re-in-the-Mood-for-Fried-Chicken-and-Waffle-Sandwiches:
There’s Bruxie.
In this scenario, probably tomorrow.
It’s an outdoor eating, drinking and doing-fun-stuff district between New York-New York and Monte Carlo that involves, among other things, a spacious beer garden, a very sake-forward balcony and a 40-foot-tall sculpture of a dancing lady.
You’re going to want to spend an entire day there, so you might consider 1) checking out this slideshow, and 2) heeding the sage wisdom below...
By Day: Beerhaus
It’s 10am. Or noon. Yeah, noon’s more like it. And you’re on the prowl for beer. So you go here. You drink a Trappist ale or one of their myriad draft brews with an IPA cheddarwurst in one hand and a ping-pong paddle in the other. You head outside for a heated Connect Four match. Next thing you know, the sun has set. Speaking of which...
By Night: Sake Rok
This place is like a Japanese warehouse dance party that ran headfirst into sushi, foie-gras-buttered tomahawk steak and sake-spiked punch, shouted, “Well, excuse me,” and carried on, unabated, into the wee hours of the morning. So, basically, it’s fun.
By Whenever-You’re-in-the-Mood-for-Fried-Chicken-and-Waffle-Sandwiches:
There’s Bruxie.
In this scenario, probably tomorrow.
