Tailor

It was meant to be.

Trolling the Net one afternoon at work I found this chilling, mouth-watering slideshow on New York Magazine's Web site. I had been stumped until that moment trying to pick a place to drink with Fashionista on my vacation eve. Upon going through the pictures, I was determined to hit one of the spots mentioned. If you haven't checked it out yet, stop reading and click on the link. Ice never looked so good.

Out of all the places, Tailor sounded the most intriguing.

I strolled down to Broome Street and proudly pulled off looking like a Tailor expert. There was no sign outside but I guessed the right door; I walked into the restaurant level but I spotted stairs and hoped the bar was at the end of them. I chose wisely.

There was a large space downstairs, but not a lot of seating area. It felt like the inside of a modern, distressed barn. Every wall and surface was of a faded wood. There were a couple of back-to-back low tables with lounge furniture around them, a small wraparound bar that could sit around ten to twelve people and a ledge against a wall with a few extra seats. Luckily I scored a spot at the bar. As I learned that night, half the fun of Tailor is watching the bartenders up close at play. Get there early for front row seats. It's worth it.

Talent is hot. Professional athletes are hot. Award-winning artists are hot. Musicians are hot. Influential writers are hot. Even powerful politicians are hot (sometimes). After watching this man work, I decided Tailor bartenders are a part of the hot mix as well.

Fashionista and I sat with our chin on the bar, drooling at this guy and his skills. The vest was an added bonus. I felt like we were in an old speakeasy. VestedBoy and his partner in crime weren't just throwing together vodka and sodas. Don't you dare go to Tailor if that's what you plan on drinking. They were making drinks with liquors and mixers I'd never even heard of.

Fashionista ordered the bazooka concoction (vodka, bubble gum cordial, house sour) while I ordered the kumquat caipirinha (cachaca, kumquats, soy caramel, turbinado). I felt like we were at some sort of cocktail carnival. We were drinking liquid candy. I think Fashionista would have preferred a shot of hers -- it was a little too sweet to handle a whole drink. Both were unlike anything I've ever tasted. Mine was a bit sour on the tongue and I know there was some smacking of the lips as I first sipped it, but I grew accustomed to it and drank it down without a problem. The kumquats soaked in alcohol were deceptively potent and I made sure to eat all of them.

For the second round, Fashionista went hard core and ordered a cocktail with egg yolk in it. It looked like a milkshake. I followed suit and went with the mate sour (yerba mate, queberante pisco, lime juice, honey, egg whites, bitters). See what I mean regarding the makings of the drink? What are half of those ingredients anyway? I took a gamble and was happy with my choice. It was spicy, sweet and foamy.


For a snack we ordered the Tailor made hot wings...

and the pork belly in miso and butterscotch.

Both came out looking like desserts, a la restaurant's salty and sweet theme. I loved the Tailor wings. They were mini, brick-shaped cuts of chicken, topped with a spicy glaze and blue cheese crumbles. I could easily get addicted to these little guys. If they sold them in packages I'd buy them and pop them in my mouth all day long.

I'm obsessed with pork belly all of the sudden. Besides a good steak au poivre or filet, pork belly is probably my third favorite meat of choice. I used to not be a fan of the fattyness, but now I can't get enough of the juicy flavor. If meat could be a dessert this was it. The pork was chopped into morsels that resembled a Napoleon tart and it was swimming in a butterscotch goo. I had one of those "mmm, heaven" moments. The small helping was a total tease. After only a couple of pieces, I was left wanting more.

We didn't even intend to order dessert until the bartender insisted. Then like mindless, googly-eyed, freshman girls trying to impress high school, senior boys, we ordered what the bartender suggested: a bell pepper cake with cornbread ice cream and sweet peas. It sounded fascinating and not like anything I would have willingly chosen had the bartender not been so inspiring, but I tried it anyway, and boy was I glad I did. I could get used to this spot.


MastersDiva met us at Tailor for a drink, but Fashionista and I were ten comforters to the wind and we could barely keep up a conversation with her. Thank god she had a male companion with her. I felt bad we dragged her down to meet us. Mental note to self: the novelty drinks at Tailor are dangerous.

From Tailor, Fashionista and I skipped over to the Soho Grand Hotel, where we met up with Winette and Shia LaBeouf. Yup. That's right. Indiana Jones, Jr., was there spot dead in the middle of the hotel lobby. If I was five years younger I would have gone up to him and spilled my undying love for him, but I couldn't channel my Demi Moore and I scurried into the bar for an aperitif with my tail between my legs.

Winette ordered some of my favorite treats: macaroni and cheese and French fries.

I had no business trying either, but I did have a few forks of some crispy charred macaroni and I think I ate the majority of the fries. Just ask NovaCat, that's what happens when fries are put in front of me.

What a night. It was the perfect set up to my perfect holiday. I would love to become a regular at Tailor, as I would like VestedBoy to call me by my first name. The hefty tab, however, nearly knocked us out of our chairs and will prevent me from going often. I will just have to consider Tailor a treat, a treat I wish I could indulge in weekly.

Tailor
525 Broome Street, b/t Thompson St. & 6th Ave.
(212) 334-5182

Soho Grand
310 W. Broadway b/t Grand and Canal