Well Fed Network

Posted by Faye Mermey on The Spirit World.

Behind a nondescript, carelessly numbered door with a hidden bell off a grubby residential Lower East Side block lies the height of New York’s faux speakeasies.

Without use of a town car or yellow cab, or a divine LES loft, one must make use of at least two subways and a quarter inch of stiletto to arrive.

Reservations are required, and the phone number is both unlisted and often unexpectedly changed. Added to that is the question of whether entry through the locked door will be granted – the camera mounted above suggests judgment and denial. Seemingly a pretentious amount of difficulty to get into what is essentially a bar, but if your tastes require an authentic but civilized vision of an early 1930’s speakeasy, this is an accurate and necessary detail.

The décor is simple. The long, narrow black space shimmers with beautiful pressed tin tiles on one wall that echo the potentially historic pressed tin ceiling. Black leather booths with small round wooden tables containing lovely built-in oil lamps line one wall up to the bar, which glows. A row of elegant black stools sit before the bar, any of which are perfect for an educational interaction with the well informed bartender.

If you chose a booth, the hostess, a beautiful but lovely lady, will ask what tastes you enjoy, and instinctively suggest an appropriate classic but interestingly obscure cocktail. She is chic, and epitomizes that ideal found in Emily Post’s Etiquette of 1922 - graciousness.

For an absinthe tasting:

• Death in the Afternoon, invented by Ernest Hemingway in 1935 - absinthe, Champagne, with added lemon juice served in a tall substantial trumpet Champagne flute lavishly filled to the top – as are all their cocktails. The elegance of the glass adds to the luxurious crisp taste.

• Monkey Gland, a pre-prohibition cocktail with a scandalous and revolting origin, made of absinthe, gin, orange juice, and grenadine served in a Champagne coupe. Decidedly sweet – it was designed for the palate of another era. Detail in authenticity prevails. The Champagne coupe is a regal but delicate glass with a risqué rumor surrounding its design. You can see it used to move the plot forward in The Philadelphia Story.

• Though the Sazerac was suggested, mixing rye whiskey with the above seemed unnerving. Instead I was served a cocktail of the bartenders own creation, a frothy mix containing absinthe and gin served again in a Champagne coupe and utterly refreshing.

Immaculately crafted, with a taste level both sophisticated and expensive – these are couture cocktails.

Throughout the evening tall glasses of water were refilled without hesitation.

Besides the graciousness and civility that characterizes the atmosphere, what struck me most was the music. A meticulous collection of Jazz, Blues, and period specific musical comedy completes the illusion. “Minor Swing” by Django Reinhardt was particularly diverting. Unequivocally, the work of the place is to create the ideal lair for real conversation, the kind people move to New York for – a dialectic on art, literature, and philosophy, with a sprinkling of repartee. Leaving, one feels satisfied, a rare sensation, and describing the complete experience as delightful.

Milk and Honey

(Number unlisted)

134 Eldridge St.

New York, NY 10002

Open from 9 p.m. to 4 a.m.

Cash Only – Cocktails are fifteen plus tax and an appropriately substantial tip