BAR BOULUD

1900 Broadway at 64th St, Upper West Sidebar boulud

The Place: A really nice French restaurant that I have no business being at.

The Time: Thursday March 31 at 6:30pm. I wanted to grab a quick drink and bite before meeting the boyfriend at the opera (fansay), and the bar I intended on going to was so crowded with old white couples that I couldn’t even get in the door. There’s a strip of restaurants on Broadway across from Lincoln Center, and they were all filled to the brim. Bar Boulud was the only one with any seats available, and considering I wanted to eat, that seemed necessary.

The Vibe: There wasn’t a bar to actually sit at so the hostess sat me at the hightop communal table after a curt and apologetic “just you?” To which I responded proudly “just me!” Pre-theater on a weekday on the Upper West Side means there will only be old white couples in the place with you, just a heads up. The other people at the communal table were, you guessed it, an old white couple. They were drinking espresso, and the male in the equation loudly called out “check!” to no one in particular three separate times. I’m pretty sure I was the youngest in there by at least 30 years.

The Drank: Literally the cheapest thing on the menu, a glass of rose at $11. It was very nice but all rose is nice. I also spent a long time staring at the food menu – everything seemed to be a form of cured ham or a $22 beet salad. I finally ordered a side of spinach (sautéed) and a side of mushrooms (fricasseed).  I’m really glad I didn’t pay for the opera tickets because this meal of wine and veg almost cost me the price of one. But the veggies were indeed delish, and they gave me a plethora of free bread so I was cool with it.

The Bartender: I don’t think there were any? It looked like they made drinks in this little alcove behind the cured meat display. No clue who made the drinks. Total mystery. I also realized halfway through my time there that I was sitting next to the meat slicer. Ain’t life grand?

Was I Hit On? No thank god cuz that would’ve been creepy. But the server and bussers were the nicest guys ever – constantly refilling my water, giving me more free bread when I ate all of my allotted free bread, politely asking how my night was going then walking away. If only all men could be that attentive to a woman’s needs.

Should You Drink Here Alone? Sure, if you’re in the neighborhood, have money to burn and want to be treated like a queen.

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