Beans, Beans, the Magical Fruit

The sort of secret blog of Beans, a.k.a. Jules, a.k.a. "Legs for Miles" a.k.a. "Rackie the Boob Queen." Fine, ok, not the last two. Starting July 2006, sometimes "Mike," aka "fagadoccio," is a co-poster on the blog. The co-poster child, really.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Sloshed in Slurpeeville

I feel proud to associate myself with a cadre of first-class imbibers, the sorts of people who will commiserate with you on the exceptional butteriness of a Cote du Rhone at 9 pm, gaily toast the first Ketel martini of the evening at 11 pm, and eventually suck the last droplets of Captain Morgan's from the proverbial clear plastic teet of the jug whilst tucking themselves into bed at 6 am. In short, being of the particular ilk who sip pastis like we are shtupped with dough but usually need to mainline a tall glass of everclear to settle into the blackout district of Krunkland, we feel comfortable on the roof deck of 230 Fifth Ave., or crashing an NYU party upon hearing that they have 40's of Steel Reserve stacked to the rafters. Expanding, then, upon Ms. Langbein's lovely-if-wallet-shredding list of great places to eat when blacked out, here are some places I've found are lovely when you're 9 sheets to the wind AND you've spent nearly all your money on drinks for that slut at the end of the bar who let you buy her drinks all night and then left with her main gay 5 minutes after last call.

Koronet's: I must first mention this Upper West Side stalwart, as it impressed itself upon the nostalgia nodes of my cortex slice by slice through 4 years of college. Fat wedges of searing hot pizza with a purposefully chewy crust slide down your throat and sop up the 17 gimlets you presumably drank on that Tuesday night. California Pizza Kitchen may have made chichi toppings de regeur, but a plain slice here drips with seductively monotonous pure pizza flavor. $3 and out.

Gowanus Yacht Club: Black out and eat out at the same time? Yes please. Tall cans of our nation's shittiest brews (think 16 oz. Milwaukee's Best cans, Ballantine, etc.) can be enjoyed with bratwurst, kielbasa, and bitty cheeseburgers. Nothing's over $5.

Joe's Shanghai: Tucked into the bowels of a tiny Chinatown street like so much MSG in a moo shi pork pancake, this big room full of fish tanks and communal dining tables is a mecca for soup dumpling lovers. If you can remember where it is even as you forget your address, you've done yourself a service, as 8 plump wads of dough filled with intensely-flavored pork broth and bits of scallion and meat await for $5. Their entrees are also some of the better Chinese food I've sampled in this city chock full of mediocre Szechuan and Hunan take-out.

Remember: As some of us who've worn a nice ass groove into the comfortable recliner that is their long-term relationship might forget (AHEM), enjoying such niceties as delicious and cheap grub at the end of a long lushy New York evening is no substitute for canning the pizza breath and hauling that special someone you locked eyes with at The Cock home for some light downers and a snog. Happy munching, you fat coupled jerks! Happy hunting, you jittery starving singles.

3 Comments:

At 5:00 AM, Blogger Beans said...

A point well taken, Mike.

But excuse me? Ballantine's is NOT shitty.

 
At 6:15 AM, Blogger Michael "Dinglefairy" Barry said...

In a Connecticut country kitchen, poured into a glass, enjoyed with rib roast and new potato salad, Ballantine's is not shitty.

 
At 8:08 AM, Blogger Beans said...

Is there any other way to drink it?

Oh yeah, I forgot: at the bodega at 6 in the morning with a barf bib down your frontis.

I dont know what "frontis" means but it seemed right.

 

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