Posts by Laura Kennicutt

If the test of a good French bakery (or French-Belgian in this case) is its croissant, then Colson Patisserie gets an 'A' right off the bat. But besides their truly amazing croissants, they offer a wide variety of equally drool-inducing desserts, including brioche, chocolate mousse cups, and the cutest little bear-shaped financiers, filled with marzipan. Colson's tiny corner shop, which is often staffed by a single, infinitely patient counter person, includes an even tinier seating area. It may be cramped, but it's still a near-ideal place for a Parisian-style Pate sandwich or a peaceful afternoon curled up with a book and a latte.

Pastry chef Emily Isaac, formerly of Union Square Cafe, is the culinary genius behind Trois Pommes Patisserie, which translates to the all-American-sounding Three Apples Bakery. Outstanding cupcakes, brownies, cookies (including homemade Oreos and peanut butter sandwich cookies), ice cream cones, tartlets and other single-serving desserts range from about $2-5, while for a bit more (up to the low $200s for their largest cakes) you can take home one of their full-sized cakes, tarts, pies or cheesecakes. The narrow space boasts beautiful touches like tin ceilings, warm wood counters, exposed brick walls, and of course, the desserts themselves, which make the best kind of window dressing.

For Yuppie brides in the know, there's no better place to pick up a fabulous (and pricey) wedding cake than Sweet Melissa Patisserie. These edible works of art are equally popular with the rich, the famous, and the diverse class of Bridezillas for whom money is no object when it comes to the big day. But Sweet Melissa's cakes and other pastries are only the beginning. A traditional High Tea service is served daily from 11am to 5pm, and if all those Petits Fours, finger sandwiches and scones aren't enough, entrees like Boeuf Bourguignon, Salad Nicoise, and Welsh Rarebit will satisfy any hunger. Children's meals, to stay or boxed to go, offer affordable options for burgeoning foodies and their parents.

A lot of people who walk by Kenka on St. Marks Place scratch their heads and wonder what all the fuss is about. Sure, there’s a cool-looking cotton candy machine parked on the front porch, and sure there’s a semi-creepy giant red-eyed badger statue beckoning from the doorway. But what could cause such long lines on a block with a billion other sushi places, enough that this part of St. Marks is sometimes referred to as Little Tokyo? I can only speak for myself, but I keep coming back simply because the food is fresh and delicious, and the menu leaves plenty of interesting options for those who want to experience Japanese cuisine beyond the same old sushi rolls and sashimi (although those are excellent as well). But I also have to admit they could be serving gruel for all I care, because the decorations are so freakin’ awesome.

Kenka’s retro, almost kitschy Japanese style makes you feel like you’re in a funky Tokyo café a world away from the grunge of the East Village. As soon as you walk in the door and sit at your charmingly low table, you are swept away by the sights and sounds of another time and place. Post-war Japanese film soundtracks play through tinny, old-fashioned speakers, and vintage movie posters and a glass-enclosed atrium give the place a sort of Kill Bill feel. Dozens of cute Japanese servers, male and female, dash around the dining room, clad in identical t-shirts and bandannas. They’re as hip as any early-twenties American waiter in the neighborhood, and they, along with many other aspects of Kenka, bring a refreshing sense of youth and vitality to the sometimes square sushi scene.

The food follows this pattern of bucking the norm by offering a variety of Japanese comfort food dishes, in addition to the raw fish you’d expect. With the amount of hot food leaving the kitchen at Kenka, the place feels more like a Johnny Rockets-style diner, Tokyo-style, than a sushi joint. You’d be a fool not to try the Hamachi No Kamayaki (grilled yellow tail neck, $7) as an appetizer. There is no morsel of fish more tender or decadent that I can remember eating in a long time. If you’re a sashimi fan like a lot of my friends, you’ll love the very reasonably priced Sashimi Moriawase plate (9 pieces of tuna, salmon, mackerel, and bonito sashimi, $8.50). The sushi rolls offered are pretty typical, but as with the sashimi, the freshness and skilled preparation really shine through and make for a revelatory eating experience, at least for someone like me who isn’t usually very fond of raw fish. I’m happy with a simple bowl of Ramen noodle soup ($5), which puts the packaged stuff I lived on through college to shame, but if you like impressive displays, try one of the Nabe dishes (like the Buta Nabe, with pork, tofu and vegetables in fish broth, $15). They’re prepared and served in bubbling tableside cauldrons, always a plus, and they represent some of the heartiest food on the menu, making these simmering vats of deliciousness perfect for those cold winter nights in the city.

You can also choose from a long list of inexpensive a la carte items that rivals a dim sum cart in variety and offers customers an inexpensive way to try a little of everything. Typical a la carte options include salted raw octopus with wasabi flavor, sliced roasted pork, and steamed pig feet, all in portions big enough to give everyone at the table a piece of the action. You’ll also find such delicacies as Bull’s Penis and Turkey Testicles on the slightly pornographic impulse menu left at the table. I refuse to go that far for journalism, but I’m sure they’re very tasty…in their own way. I’ve never managed to save room for dessert, but I have my eye on the Mochi Ice Cream and the mysterious Anmitsu, which is described on the menu as “cubes of white translucent jelly made from seaweed served with sweet bean paste and vanilla ice cream” ($4). Mmm, cubes of goo.

It is only upon paying the bill, however, that you remember the best thing about Kenka. Along with the bill, the servers bring each patron a small cup of pink sugar, which can be used to spin sweet, delicious cotton candy on your way out. The first time I went with my boyfriend, not knowing what it was, he immediately downed the sugar like a shot upon receiving it, causing me to slap my forehead Charlie Brown-style. Don’t make the same mistake, or you too will be left watching longingly as your friends enjoy their delicious spun sugar treats. There’s just something so satisfying about pushing through the craziness of the East Village night, full and satisfied and making cotton candy mustaches like you were five years old again. Any restaurant that can bring a little bit of innocent fun back like that is OK by me.

When I’m in the East Village and I’m looking for a place to really get crazy, Saturday night style, the first place I usually think of is Karma, the two-level bar and hookah lounge that has been intoxicating NYU students for years. Karma serves delicious and innovative cocktails and a decent selection of draft beers, though they sometimes mix their drinks a bit weak. The downstairs bar is more guilty of this slight (possibly because they assume the people dancing are already drunk), and the service is somewhat less attentive there, so I’d recommend you order your drinks at the upstairs bar. Regardless, the bartenders and staff, upstairs and downstairs, are always pleasant and enthusiastic, and their personable nature is a refreshing change from the cold treatment you usually get at hip lounges. Draft beers average $5-6 dollars, and mixed drinks approach $10, so be sure to take advantage of drink specials during happy hour, from 1-8pm, 7 days a week.

Hookahs are the real life of the party at Karma, however. For the uninitiated, hookahs are large, ornate water pipes with a rich cultural tradition dating back thousands of years, and they’re fun to smoke. The pipes are loaded with Shisha, a type of flavor-infused pipe tobacco, and you suck the tasty, water-cooled smoke through tubes, usually without inhaling. Hookahs create a fun communal mood and even non-smokers often enjoy a few relatively harmless puffs. The hookahs are a bit overpriced ($16 each), especially since the staff uses fast-burning coals and charge you for an extra coal. But it’s rare to find a good place to smoke a hookah anymore, and they have a lot of good Shisha flavors (my favorites are Apple and Strawberry). The hookahs are in keeping with Karma’s desert oasis theme, which is indicated in the decorations with palm trees, draped tapestries and warm red lighting, as well as the eclectic antique furniture which speaks of colonial times.

While you puff away, contemplating the essence of life, take a look at the often excellent artwork on the walls, which is the work of underground artists from the area. Don’t linger too long in this peaceful state, however, because Karma’s downstairs parties are almost as much of a trademark as their hookahs. There is pretty much always dancing on the lower level, though technically the customers are merely performing, hence the tiny stage at the end of the room (to keep within the limits of the ridiculous and outdated Cabaret Law). Occasionally you may be asked to move your dancing up onto the stage for this reason. It’s kind of annoying, but it makes it all the more ridiculous and fun attempting to follow these obscure rules while getting cheesed. The downstairs level of Karma is a great place for a big group of friends – people are always hosting parties there (me included), for birthdays, bachelorette parties, or any kind of celebration, really.

A word of warning: Karma is one of the few places in New York that still allows smoking, and people sure do take advantage, to such an extent that sensitive non-smokers may find Karma’s interior unpleasant. But since I spent my early bargoing years in Tucson, pre-smoking ban, inhaling massive plumes of secondhand smoke from the chain-smoking regulars, smoky bars now make me feel more nostalgic than annoyed. An air purification system is supposedly at work to combat the effects of the smoke, but it doesn’t seem to help much, especially on the lower level. Also the DJs often suck, but that’s a problem common to a lot of bars and lounges, and they do allow a lot more fun audience participation, which can be good (when you’re the one singing and dancing onstage) and bad (when anyone else is).

All in all, Karma may not be the swankiest lounge in New York, nor the best place to go dancing, nor the best hookah bar, but it benefits from having a little of everything. And after you’ve had a couple of drinks and a few puffs on the hookah, it’ll seem like the Ivy.

The legendary automat has had a long and rich history in New York and other big American and European cities. These automated eateries, which allowed customers to purchase their food from coin-operated slots and eat them in a communal cafeteria-type setting, enjoyed their heyday in the first half of the 20th Century, peaking during the office worker boom of the 1950s. By the 70s, McDonalds and take-out had rendered the automat all but useless, and you’d be hard-pressed to find one, in New York or anywhere else. But a few years ago, that all changed with the opening of Bamn! Inspired by a new generation of Dutch automats serving fast comfort food like burgers and sandwiches, entrepreneurs David Leong and Nobu X decided to revitalize this hibernating tradition in New York, and the results are nothing less than delightful.

Bamn!’s fluorescent pink-lit, glowing design gives it a futuristic, otherworldly feel, and draws people in from the street out of sheer curiosity. It seems to be part of a new trend of modern-looking, Japanese-influenced, colorful fast food places in the neighborhood, and so far, it seems like the locals (mostly NYU students) are eating it up. With their stand-up tables and window serving beverages and Pommes Frites with a crazy variety of dipping sauces, Bamn! makes a perfectly wonderful place to stay and eat, though you could also take your food on the go, thanks to its extreme portability. The purchasing of the food is half the fun, of course, and change machines ensure that you won’t find yourself quarterless and desperately clawing at the glass standing between you and your dinner. The sometimes Asian-influenced comfort food offerings are constantly changing, but some items that make frequent appearances are grilled cheese, mini burgers, mac and cheese croquettes, and Chinese-style roasted pork buns. Nothing here is particularly mind-blowing, but it will satisfy your greasy-salty cravings capably.

The food is a tad overpriced (averaging $2.50 an item), especially since the potions are tiny and you need to buy three or four items if you really want to make a meal of it. It’s best to come here when you’re on your way somewhere and haven’t had a chance to eat, or when the late-night munchies strike you on your way home from the bar. It is at these drunken times that Bamn! really shines, because you can lurch up to the vending area and spend as long as you want deciding, then order without having to annoy any staff members with your speech-slurring ways. Frankly, I don’t know why automats aren’t still a New York staple, considering our collective love of speedy service. Maybe Bamn! will inspire a series of imitators, and we will enjoy a second golden age of convenience.

A lot of the cooler bars in Park Slope are clustered in the North end, but with Commonwealth on their side, South Slopers can proudly lay claim to one of the best. Even Manhattanites, with all the options available to them on that most accommodating of isles, will cross the bridge for a night of debauchery, Commonwealth-style.

Why, you may ask, does Commonwealth continue to draw in tipplers from around the five boroughs? For one thing, the patio is awesome, with its giant umbrella which has to be seen to be believed. Smokers congregate out there and engage in intense conversations that often end up sucking in nearby tables, and a unique community atmosphere is born. Or perhaps it’s the unusually excellent jukebox, or the endlessly entertaining “Brutally Honest Personal Ads,” which allow angry young hipsters to vent their frustrations in clever satires on the standard personal ad, all under the watchful eye of a weirdly appropriate mugshot of a disheveled Nick Nolte. Some of the constantly changing ads are real calls for guff-free romance, and some are just for entertainment and/or enlightenment, but all are good for a laugh.

Another thing that keeps people coming back is the interesting selection of specialty mixed drinks (all worth a taste), though I am more of a beer person, and I have no complaints as far as the draft selection goes. I dropped in with my boyfriend the other night, as we often do on date nights, due to both the closeness of the bar and the comfortable atmosphere. Unlike many Park Slope bars, it doesn’t get so loud you resort to screaming your voice away just to order a drink, and you can usually snag a table if you are willing to hover over a departing party for ten minutes or so. We managed to pounce on a tiny table in the back of the bar, and while we tipped back a few rounds of Sierra Nevadas (our mutual favorite), we were again reminded of all the reasons we like this bar.

You can order a drink without getting attitude back from the bartender or the clientele (sadly, rare in a lot of hipper Brooklyn bars), take your time drinking it without being hassled, you won’t be hit on by skeezy greasy guys or drunken club girls, and most importantly, when you overhear the conversations of the tables next to you, they’re often interesting and intelligent. Part of this is due to the fact that Commonwealth attracts a fairly diverse crowd: old and young, rich and poor, professors and busboys all share tables and cigarettes here. It’s not unusual to come in on a weekday afternoon and find the bartender deeply in conversation with middle-aged, well-off regulars and authors scribbling away at their poems and manuscripts. It’s this old world, university bar sort of feeling that I feel when I’m on my third drink, feeling half-cheesed, and delighting in a snippet of overheard debate on the merits of Proust or Ionesco. Call it pretension if you must, but sometimes you need a little PBS in your diet.

As it is, at its most basic level, an unapologetic sports bar, Park Slope's 200 Fifth is ideal for nights when it’s just the guys, or anytime you’re with a big group of friends and need someplace that does double duty as a bar and eatery. The moment you walk in, you’re greeted by just scads of TVs blaring a constant rotation of sporting events. Like any good sports bar, they’re always willing to change the channel on the TV nearest you to your favorite team’s game, barring any objections from dissidents. The bar and restaurant are separated so as not to annoy each other, which is a plus when you were expecting a quiet dinner and unexpectedly showed up on a big game night, complete with roaring feedback from the bar crowd.

Standard bar fare is 200 Fifth’s bread and butter, so to speak, with ten (yes, ten) ounce burgers, fresh seafood and decent wings making up the majority of the dishes I saw flying off the line. But Chef Mendy’s menu includes some unique dishes that offer a bit more variety than yet another bar burger, however capably crafted. I recommend you start with the Saffron Mussel Ragout, which is topped with a crispy risotto cake, or the 200 Fifth Clams, which are a favorite of regulars. Entrées include everything from authentic, slow-smoked barbeque to pasta and more excellent seafood. Try the Trout Du Jour (I love that there’s a whole daily menu devoted to trout) or go all out and indulge in the 14 ounce New York steak. 200 Fifth’s brunch menu offers a pretty typical assortment of egg dishes and the like, but I feel strongly about pairing good brunch with good cocktails, and where better to ensure you’ll get a quality Bloody Mary than a freaking bar?

Speaking of booze (and I often am), I haven’t even gotten to the best part about 200 Fifth. They have not ten, not fifteen, but 40, count ‘em, 40 beers on tap. And with a deal offering a sampler of six 4.5-ounce beers on the menu, you can afford to experiment. Among the 40 draft beers, all available at the very reasonable price of $3.50 a pint, are Arrogant Bastard Ale (California), Monty Python's Holy grAIL (England), Victory Hop Devil (Pennsylvania), and one of my very favorites, Six Point Sweet Action (Brooklyn, NY). Call it Brooklyn pride or an affinity for the racy indie magazine of the same name, but I likes me some Sweet Action.

So whether you’re looking for a place to while away a few hours with your buddies after work, or planning a lengthy night of eating and drinking, you can’t really go wrong with a place like 200 Fifth. Sure, it’s generic, and you could find the same type of atmosphere at a TGI Friday’s if you were really desperate. But all of the things that people hate about big chains (impersonal service, high prices, obnoxious families everywhere), 200 Fifth avoids for the most part. If you’re looking for a precious hole in the wall that screams local character and would make your foodie friends jealous, this ain’t it. But if you’re just looking for some wings, some cheap beers and a few hours of reversion to your college days, look no further.

When you find yourself in Park Slope, whether you’re with friends or on a date or even on a pleasant day out alone, it’s almost a rule that you have to stop for some coffee. One place I find myself coming to again and again is Ozzie's Coffee and Tea on Fifth Avenue, not necessarily due to its quality or its atmosphere, but simply because of its gargantuan size. Ozzie's Seventh Avenue location, a converted pharmacy, is quieter and preferred by regulars, but the Fifth Avenue one is, as I said, sprawling (by New York standards). Thus, it has more of a community hub feel, with the flyers and community newspapers by the door and the constant stream of incoming young people, plus it offers plenty of tucked-away alcoves for you to hide out in when you just feel like crawling up with a good book. Both locations are known for their relative lack of pretension, and for the fact that you can chill out as long as you want without feeling pressured to leave, unlike bustling mommy-and-stroller havens like Tea Lounge.

Ozzie’s is known equally for its coffee and its tea, and purists insist that plain coffee or loose tea is your best bet for a beverage here. As far as coffees go, Ozzie’s Blend is organic and fair trade, as are most of their other beans, from Sumatra Mandheling to Colombian Supremo. They do their roasting in-house, which means the intoxicating aroma of freshly crushed coffee beans surrounds the store like an aura, enticing you in from the street with promises of rich flavors and sweet caffeine.

I like to come here when I’m out on my own, shopping or whatnot, and need a break. The iced coffee here is strong and perfect for those sweltering summer days, plus the painting of a giant, dripping iced coffee on the front windows of the store incites a near-Pavlovian reaction from me every time. But Ozzie’s fresh fruit smoothies, iced chai, and blended coffee drinks, which are way cheaper than frapps, also hit the spot when the temperature soars.

Now for the downsides. Ozzie’s charges for Wi-Fi, which is kind of dumb when it’s offered in basically all the other area cafés for free. The Fifth Avenue store gets REALLY hot during the summer, to the point where I tip the baristas double out of sheer pity as I watch sweat drip down their faces. Cleanliness falls behind fairly often (think overflowing trash cans), and general maintenance drops when there’s any kind of a rush (the all-important, but much too small, summertime water pitcher goes dry for hours at a time as thirsty patrons gaze at it longingly). All this despite the fact that there are obviously a ton of employees running around looking confused, which points to the larger problem -- that Ozzie’s tends to hire young, inexperienced workers willing to work for a song, but who are oftentimes completely inept. Another major problem is that they only offer paper cups for their beverages, and even use paper plates for their food, which is both environmentally irresponsible and, well, tacky.

All those negatives aside, Ozzie’s has a lot going for it. The coffee is dependably good, the food is decent if not outstanding (try the red velvet cake), and, most importantly, it’s a giant, thriving coffee shop. People-watching here never grows old, and there are usually a lot of cute single people hanging out. Plus, Fridays they host Open Mic night, so you can kick back a few espresso shots and get down with your Seattle side while you listen to grungy amateur acoustic guitarists sing about feelings. There’s something to be said for a place where that kind of atmosphere is still alive and well.

It was last summer, on one of those balmy evenings that makes you glad you live in a pedestrian town. I was walking up Fifth Avenue in Brooklyn, probably running an errand or going on a torta run at nearby Girasol Bakery, when what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a new bar, right in my neighborhood! A neat-looking logo announced the place as Quarter Bar, and a quick glance in the window confirmed that the place was a classy new joint, the likes of which you’d find in Williamsburg or Manhattan. With the exception of a few newish places like Living Room, the bar options in my neighborhood are usually limited to the Tabern Salvadoreño down the street and a perpetually empty sports bar, so this was welcome news.

I gathered up my posse and headed over to Quarter Bar the next chance I got. The first thing we noticed is the remodeled interior, which is warm and wood-paneled, with tasteful antique accents lending an old timey feeling. That combined with the meat pies listed on the menu next to the pints give you the distinct sensation you’ve stepped into olde time London by mistake. The skillful bartender in residence seems to be the only person running the place, and on the rare occasions that I’ve seen someone else tending bar, he’s been sitting right across from them, having a drink. Now that’s dedication. But beyond dedication, it’s his craftsmanship that’s gained him fans and followers. The specialty drinks are the real draw at Quarter Bar for this reason, and the fact that they are made with quality ingredients (the Hot Buttered Rum doesn’t skimp on the real butter) and eschew the sickly-sweet, unlike a great number of bars. However, the above-average beer selection is a godsend for someone like me, for whom mixed drinks, although delicious, are basically a hangover in a glass.

We migrated to the back patio, which seems to usually be where the party is. Wooden benches, tables and chairs surround an oddly appropriate bathtub planter under the watchful eye of some poor neighbor’s back porch. The community atmosphere really gets going once the second round of 2-for-1 Happy Hour drinks sets in. People start bumming cigarettes, joining in each others’ conversations, sharing drunken advice and newspapers. One time a girl who was leaving even gave me her second drink, a towering Hefeweizen, which I was happy to accept. After the second beer or so, pies start appearing on the patrons’ tables. These small empanada-like delicacies are crafted with care by local baker Dub Pies, and are made in the style of New Zealand’s and Australia’s hugely popular bar food. I have to admit, I can’t think of a much better accompaniment to a cold beer.

After four beers and a couple trips to the jukebox, we left the bar with pockets still jingling, half-cheesed and ready for whatever the night had in store for us. What more can you ask from happy hour?

When you’ve been dating someone for a long time, and especially if you live together, it can be hard to remember to keep the romance alive. Between work and friends and Facebook, it seems like date night is the first thing to fall by the wayside. I am no more evolved in this department than anyone else; I’m ashamed to admit that more than a couple of Friday nights have seen me and my boyfriend choosing Netflix over braving the bar scene. But when we do go out, I’m prepared. There’s nothing worse than being stuck wandering the avenue looking for a place that isn’t so empty it’s awkward, doesn’t have garish lighting or loud/awful music playing, is informal enough that you can be comfortable and talk loudly after you’ve had a few, but is just a shade nicer than a pizza joint. Without a plan, this kind of hellish restaurant searching can go on for hours, and nothing kills the mood more than this kind of frustration. That’s why it’s good to know a handful of surefire date-friendly restaurants, so that whether you’re eating out with your husband of twenty years or out on a first date, you can appear both knowledgeable and spontaneous as you suggest a delightful little place you know right around the corner.

One of these standbys for me is Park Slope’s Sotto Voce. You can usually get a seat, they serve Brunch, and they serve perfectly decent Italian comfort food in a modern, casual-elegant setting. The restaurant escapes the usual pitfalls of date restaurants, i.e. being overly pricey, embarrassingly quiet and intimate, or being so trendy and overexposed that only obnoxious yuppies go there. That said, the restaurant has its share of problems. The waiters, though friendly, are often neglectful of their tables in my experience, and this really becomes a problem during Brunch, when endless refills of mimosas become one refill if you’re lucky. The problem may be under-staffing or poor management, but they should get it under control. I take the words “All You Can Drink” very seriously.

On a romantic night out, however, lax service doesn’t really bother me. Frankly, I’m more annoyed by the vulture-like hovering a lot of Manhattan waiters do, most likely in an effort to get you out the door faster and keep the tips coming. And the food at Sotto Voce is good enough to compensate, for the most part. Many of the Italian restaurants I’ve been to in New York suffer from a general blandness in their menu items, but with the exception of a handful of crowd pleasing dishes that could stand to be kicked up a notch, Sotto Voce manages to escape this fate. I like to start by sharing one of their gourmet salads, like the Insalata Tre Colori (arugula, endive and radicchio with grilled Portobello mushroom, served with toasted goat cheese bruschetta), with my beau, as an alternative to a boring dinner salad.

I usually stick to pasta for dinner, though the meat and fish dishes look divine. The Rigatoni Montanaro,
with Shitake mushrooms, onions and arugula in a Brandy Cream Sauce, is a rich and satisfying meatless option, while some of the best carnivorous pasta dishes include the decadent Fettuccine con Pollo e Funghi (homemade fettuccini with chicken, mushrooms and fresh rosemary in a cream sauce) and the Fettuccine al Sugo di Anatra(homemade fettuccine in a country duck ragu with black olives and tomatoes). You’ll leave with leftovers, but pasta is one of the best next-day foods there is, so no worries.

After a date at Sotto Voce, I always leave feeling a little bit lighter than air. Maybe it’s the red wine or the old-world smells of the kitchen, but Italian restaurants always do this to me, and perhaps you know the feeling. You become Lady and the Tramp for a second, and all the world is singing you a love song. Then, inevitably, a bum will flash you or something and the moment will be ruined, but it’s those little moments that make love happen, and if there’s one thing the world needs more of, it’s love.

There are plenty of perfectly wonderful restaurants, bars and cafés in New York and the surrounding boroughs, but it is the rare establishment that can combine all three. That's why Bar Toto has been, and remains, a Park Slope mainstay. The mostly-Italian eatery is a great place to take your friends for a girls' night out, due to the place's lively café attitude, but it's an equally good date destination, with candlelit tables and ever-flowing wine making for a downright romantic setting. Most importantly, you can sit here for hours, over coffee, food, drinks and conversation, and in true Italian fashion, it won't be frowned upon by the wait staff.

The place has the appearance of a European sidewalk café from the outside, especially between April and September or so, when Bar Toto's outdoor seating becomes a hot commodity. The interior, with its pressed-tin ceiling and antique knick-knacks, feels like something straight out of 1960's Rome (if you ignore the lack of smoke clouds and Vespas parked outside). I always feel a bit like I've stumbled onto the set of an old movie when I come here, and indeed the location is often used for film shoots. The thing that stands out the most the first time you visit, however, is the seating arrangement. It still seems strange even after months of eating there, actually. They don't leave any room between the tables! When you're getting seated, you see, the waiter pulls out not your chair, but your table, and after one of you is seated, back the table goes, and you're locked in. Tables flying here and there, people awkwardly squirming out to use the bathroom…it all seems so impractical, and yet it works.

When gathering with friends and loved ones, I believe you should always start with an appetizer, and the House Antipasto ($10) is a time-tested crowd-pleaser in this regard. The complimentary flavors of the assorted cheeses, pickled vegetables and cured meats leave your hunger piqued and your senses tingling. Pay attention to the daily specials, because some of the best dishes I've tried at Bar Toto have been specials – a sign of good cooks at work. As far as entrées go, I particularly recommend the pasta dishes, which include the fantastic Penne with Peas and Prosciutto in Tomato Cream Sauce ($9). The restaurant's flatbread pizzas are topped in classic Italian style and are great for a light meal, but if you're really hungry, go for one of Bar Toto's special Panini Burgers. The Toto ($9) is the house Panini Burger, and comes grilled to order, topped with Gorgonzola cheese and red onion. The fries that accompany this and a number of other entrées are abnormally delicious, and would be fantastic alone as a snack with drinks (with a side of mayonnaise if you really want to do it up European-style).

Even if you dine elsewhere, you can stop by Bar Toto afterward for $3 drafts and well drinks at Reverse Happy Hour, which takes place seven nights a week from 11:00pm to 2:00am. Late-night Happy Hour is a tricky thing, though; by 2:00am, going to work the next day starts to seem a little more optional.