The Scene
An Irish bartender greets patrons like old pals as they enter from Orchard Street, and regulars settle into the numerous stools that line the incredibly long bar. It stretches about 50 feet across the slim space, leaving room for a ruby red pool table at the alternate Allen Street entrance. The molding that twists and ripples along the bar's free form perimeter measures an even 60 feet and 6 inches, the distance from the pitcher's mound to home plate.
The Draw
Sporty indie rockers--the proud, the few--can get a dose of Elliott Smith, Grandaddy, or Bloc Party with their ball game. Everybody else shows up for the friendly vibe and expertly poured cocktails: mean Manhattans, seductive spiked fresh lemonade, or sultry dark 'n' stormys. Knowing the power of his poison, the barkeep serves 'em up with a playful warning: "Now don't go falling in love with me."
