Dog days

Seeing as it's our last month in NYC, Jamie and I have taken to accelerating our experience of the New York life. Earlier this month we invited a few friends over to watch the Redskins blow their Super Bowl chances, ate a yummy meal at a BYOB Thai restaurant (bringing along, of course, some of our favorite Riesling), stumbled around a few Lower East Side establishments including an uncharacteristically crowded Whiskey Ward (which has caused me to start getting into whiskey since they have so many varieties), and ending up at the East Village's latest gem, PDT.

The latter venue epitomizes the time and place - for me, the zeitgeist of New York that I'll be sad to put behind me. It is a small speakeasy-type place with a classy, low-lit style of brick and dark wood, and the drink menu is full of modern twists on old-fashioned drinks like fizzes, rickeys, and sours. There are a number of other joints like it, including Angel Share, Milk and Honey, Little Branch to name a few. The faux exclusivity offers more appeal than just ego - these establishments have rules and an atmosphere that fosters a chill night out, unmolested by the douchebag and hoochie armadas that nightly storm the streets of lower Manhattan.

The second best part about PDT, though, is that the only entrance is via a secret door in the phone booth of our favorite hot dog joint, Crif Dogs. You press a button on the phone and connect with the hostess - she'll give you a calling card so you can make reservations in the future, which you'll need because the place is that great.

I saved the best for last, which is that you can order off the Crif Dogs menu from within the bar. So after being seated for our 2:30am reservation we proceeded to enjoy some high-brow drinks with low-brow eats. There is nothing more divine to cap off a night of drunken revelry than swigging some deep-cherry-flavored concoction of cognac and brandy while chowing down on a bagel dog and cheese-smothered tater tots. I'll miss you, New York.