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We don't live in the bucolic New England countryside or the remote edges of the Blue Ridge Mountains. No. We live in New York City - the home of never-ending construction rattling, cell phone ringing, sirens blaring, subway announcements blasting, profanity shouting and gossip buzzing.
No wonder it's "the city that doesn't sleep." We can't get any peace and quiet!
That's why Gothamist savors those rare times that it can find a truly quiet gourmet getaway in the heart of our clamoring town. But, easier said then done. To our dismay, hushed tones and low noise levels don't seem to be standard at a good portion of the city's restaurants. This is particularly disappointing when the food and service are up to par.
Such was the case when Gothamist paid call on the recently opened Kitchen & Cocktails on the Lower East Side. The menu was fun and affordable. Our waitress was amiable. The cocktails came with whimsical plastic animal toys. And yet, it is hard to imagine a return trip. Our entire party was hoarse after an hour and a half meal endured in their thunderously loud dining room - a room where yelling wasn't just de rigueur, but de facto.
CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?
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You forgot the god-awful noise of yuppies hiccupping the word "like" ad nauseum.
For too many restaurants, ballparks, retail areas, public areas, etc. the credo is loud=fun.
To a lot of people, though, loud DOES equal fun.
www.forgotten-ny.com
recently had dinner at Sunburst Cow... had been really looking forward to it... and again, fun food, fun waiter, fun place.... but jeez.... why did the DJ have to be so blooming loud, and the place so frigging dark.... we had gather up a half-dozen candles to provide enough light for one person to scream out the menu to the rest of us just so we could figure out what they had...
what a shame... can't imagine going back unless it's for brunch.
Tell me about it... I never understood the purpose of music in a restaurant. Why do I shell out $$$? So I can sit in your restaurant and be oh-so-astounded at the crappy music tastes of the maitre-d' or bartender? I suffered through an hour at Robin Des Bois on Smith Street the other night, listening to, um, let's see: "Barracuda", "Jamie's Cryin'", "In Your Eyes", "Drive" (yes, the Cars song), and assorted other shit that would find good company on a crap Connecticut classic rock station. It SUCKED.
I like to eat pancakes in the basement while listening to top forty. I don't know what anyone here is talking about but I wish I did!