Magazine article The New Yorker

The Breslin

Magazine article The New Yorker

The Breslin

Article excerpt

After the Spotted Pig debuted, in the West Village, with its crowded bar scene, ambitious menu, and coveted burger, a fever for its formula seemed to infect restaurateurs. Every neighborhood suddenly needed a gastropub, and every gastropub was chockablock with porcine iconography. That the Breslin feels like a particularly successful knockoff--dark leather, dim lighting, and animals everywhere, from pigs and cows, rabbits and stags, to a demonic bull glowering from a Schlitz Malt Liquor sign--might owe something to the fact that Ken Friedman and April Bloomfield, who started the whole trend, are the moving forces here as well. The crowds have migrated, too; one Wednesday night, the bar was packed, the wait for a table stretched to an hour and a half (there are no reservations), and everyone seemed a little frazzled, though there seemed to be a we're-all-in-it-together brio to the enterprise. Instead of the Spotted Pig's veneer of British reserve, the Breslin projects a certain swagger; in place of the former's Pimm's cup and spiced apple cider, the latter offers cocktails named after albums: Liquid Swords (GZA), Rush of Blood to the Head (Coldplay), Pablo Honey (Radiohead).

The menu, though, reads a bit like Dickens. …

Search by... Author
Show... All Results Primary Sources Peer-reviewed

Oops!

An unknown error has occurred. Please click the button below to reload the page. If the problem persists, please try again in a little while.