Pradeep met us at Heartland, but since their kitchen was closed, we headed for here. This establishment, at 25 Bridge Street way downtown, should not be confused with the justly famous West Village pub at 675 Hudson Street, where Jack Kerouac was routinely ejected, Jane Jacobs singlehandedly reinvented urban planning, and Dylan Thomas overdosed on alcohol.
This joint would obviously be a hit with Wall St. suit types if they're not too picky. As our post-prandial afterbar†, it was fine. By the time we got there it was pretty mellow, but I hear tell that it's a mess when the exchanges let out. Apparently "P" used to hang here and the staff treated us like royalty.
Pradeep ordered fries and rings and we sucked down a couple more pints. I seem to recall half a dozen brews on tap. I believe I was drinking McSorley's Ale. Nothing write home about, but worth a stop if you're in the area.
n. (af'-ter-bar), the place you go after getting hammered to keep the lilt alive and pace your return to sobriety.