Dylan Prime

Winette celebrated her birthday a couple of Fridays ago. And the spot she picked for it was Dylan Prime.

It didn't occur to me until a couple of days before the birthday evening that I had actually heard of Dylan Prime. And from none other than my Dad. He left me with a small black business card several months ago with the word Dylan on it. He said, "You have to try this place." I mentioned this to Winette at work, and in hilarious fashion, she responded, "Your Dad told you about Dylan Prime? What's up with that? He must be a total hipster!" Hipster indeed. I already shared this comment with both of my parents on the phone and I could hear them push the phone away because they were laughing so hard. Dad, a hipster? Come on. I mean, he did take me to go see Les Paul about a month ago at a jazz club in midtown, but besides that, that's about as hip as my dad gets. (I can't get away with not mentioning that I did not know who Les Paul was. A friend at work asked me what I did the night before, and for some reason the whole area went silent when I said, "My dad took me to go see some guy, Les Paul, play guitar." Immediately a guy at work snarfed his soda and said, "What?!?! Some guy? You might as well have said some guy Elvis Presley!!!!!" and the whole evil band of them continued in wheezing, loud cacophonous laughter. I'm sorry to all those guitarist aficionados out there, I swear I am not completely musically illiterate. I did play the violin for several years and was in choirs at my church and in high school. I had just never heard of Les Paul. If my readership goes down because of this embarrassing admittance, I will understand).

After work Friday, Winette and I bolted out of the office like two horses out of the gate at the Derby. We were thirsty for some cold beverages as work had been exceptionally tortuous that day.

Dylan Prime is in Tribeca, or should I say it is Tribeca. It takes up a massive block. When you walk in, the restaurant is to your right (make note of this because several guests messed this up) and the bar (only the bar) is to your left. I can't imagine, after spending the whole night in the bar, why anyone would want to eat in the dining room. The large wooden bar went all the way from one end of the room to the other, and with its tall ceilings and immense windows, not to mention the perfect dark faded lighting, it made it the perfect setting for any occasion. And ladies, there are TVs to satisfy any sports fanatic. March Madness games were on that night and yes, I was watching. This year I entered in my office bracket. My picks seeded me first (ahead of a bunch of males I work with) for the first and second rounds, and then I took a violent turn for the worse. Such is the game of brackets I now know. Swimster said he would never allow me to do brackets again because come gametime I became a raving lunatic.

Winette, her husband, and I were the first to arrive at Dylan, and we did not hesitate to order appetizers. We went with Winette's favorite: fondue and macaroni and cheese. The fondue dish was a generous serving of bread, cheese, apples, and fresh crispy bacon bits and fried onion slivers. It took up our entire bar table. The macaroni and cheese was in a giant ramakin and well cooked on top-my favorite.

The highlight of Dylan's, however, was not the food in my opinion, but rather the cocktails I drank all night. Here are some of their names. I think I had one of each. I'm not shy with the cocktail menu. I'll try it all.

Dylan Blue: Zyr vodka with house stuffed blue cheese olives (does it get any better than this?)
Bellini Martini: Finlandia vodka with white peach puree
Mojito Martini: mint infused Bacardi Limon served chilled with fresh lime juice
and finally the Rio-Rita: Beleza Pura Cachaca and Cointreau with fresh lemon and lime juices.

These cocktails were a pretty penny at $11 each, but if that was the price of merriment that night I didn't care.

62 Laight Street
212-334-4783