I’m not a big fan of “cocktail culture.” I don’t need a fluorescent liquid in a martini glass with some sort of Japanese flower arrangement for garnish. Give me a cold beer, give me a glass of wine, give me a classic Dirty Martini, and I’m a happy girl.
But every once in a while I like to branch out and see what New York’s elite is drinking. Again, I do this for you.
Last night, après-shopping in SoHo, I decided to investigate The Daily, a new “must try” cocktail bar (so says New York Magazine), attached to Public Restaurant on Elizabeth Street.
The lure: A rotating daily menu of small plates and fancy elixirs. Sounded cool enough.
I’ll admit that while the decor was alluring (votives, vintage mirrors and mason jars), the portion size-to-price ratio was less than impressive. If you’re charging over $15 for a martini, it better be one to knock me on my ass. Instead, what I was served was a thimble-sized sip, which left me more thirsty than it did buzzed.
The fried oysters (of which there were supposed to be six), was more of a mess of tempura heaped on the plate: Fried oysters mingled among fried basil leaves and to be quite honest, I had no idea which was which. It was more batter than anything else.
I will be fair, however, and admit that the lamb burger was exceptional. (Be forewarned: It’s $13 and the size of a slider.)
So let’s cut to the chase, shall we? It’s no secret that I can delight in a pricey dinner. It doesn’t have to all be $3 tacos. I don’t minding spending $80 on a small meal, but it should at least live up to the hype. Be a fiesta in my mouth; an orgy for the senses, if you will. Tiny plates of pretentiousness need not inquire.