Maison Premiere--Brooklyn

347.335.0446

It's been a while.  A new job, a baby, all of these grown up things have prevented me from venturing out and trying new stuff.  I've tried to get out, tried to experience new and better places in the greater New York area but to no avail.  I meant to go to the Bronx, and to Queens, and to DC and all I've gotten was Reynard's over and over again.  What to do beloved nine?  What to do?

So  I have this business card with a few notes jotted down.  I went here the first night the kitchen open, though I didn't eat.  Prior to that it was an oyster bar and judging by the size of the crowd it was pretty well received.  I sucked down French 75's while my other wife drank Negronis.  The cocktails were made well by guys in bow ties and vests.  They all had facial hair.  At this point I'm used to it.

Then I went to the bathroom and there was an old-fashioned toilet with an old gravity tank.  The toilet dispensers were also old, rusty, dilapidated.  The door didn't close quite right, but it was beautiful and warped.  As I sat there peeing I wondered to myself, is this bathroom authentic?  Quite a philosophical question I know, but since I have no food to talk about I have to talk about something.  So, is this bathroom anymore authentic?  Is it the sum of its parts?  Aesthetically, it looks cool and funky but at the cost of being functional.  What is the attraction to this bygone era?  Certainly things were made better then, but they're also 100 years old.  I flushed the toilet.  It didn't work that well, but it did work.  I'm glad I didn't leave an iceberg in the water as it would have still been there.

When I got back to the bar I took a good look at the bartender to the point I think I freaked him out.  Then I realized the problem: he's a phony.  They're all faking it.  That bathroom isn't original.  It's a replica of an original using original parts.  Probably bought in some old broken down town from a building about to be demolished.   But here's the catch, the clothes of the bygone era are still made.  Names like Anderson Shepard, Henry Poole, Paul Stuart.  And you know what?  They're fucking expensive!  You wouldn't want to bar tend in this expensive suit.  This guy had an ill-fitting button down collar, his braces were clipped to his pants with belt loops.  His vest didn't fit and he'd buttoned the sixth button.  And more to the point he doesn't know the difference.  I'm sure the craftsman that made that beautiful bathroom door would want it replaced because it wasn't plum.  I'm sure the manufacturer of the toilet paper dispenser eventually automated their production, creating homogenous, yet profitable, toilet paper dispenser after toilet paper dispenser. 

Maison Premier is not at fault here.  They're keeping up with the times, and at least they're devotion to style is consistent with their devotion to well made cocktails and craft beer.  And in the end, you can't fake quality.  They're salvaging quality from a bygone era.  The craftsman for custom doors still exists.  They just didn't want to pay for it.

Antica Pesa--Brooklyn

 (347) 763-2635

At long last the trend that Reynard's created has begun to bear fruit. Antica Pesa is the first in a trend of what I predict to be many well conceived fine dining establishments in Williamsburg.  The neighborhood has grown up, be it from pricing bringing in an older crowd, or an older crowd bringing pricing.  Whatever the case may be, something that has matching flatware and cloth napkins was due and Antica Pesa delivers superbly  The dining room is beautiful, with low hanging globes over dinner tables that capture sound, a fire place, and Italian men walking around with their shirts un buttoned, putting their hands on the back of your chair suggesting, hinting, alluding to the fact that in some other universe you could be the desire of such a man...ehem.

Put your dick back in your pants iconman, how was the food?  In a word fantastic. Granted the menu never seems to vary, but there is some crowd pleasing items for all.  I'd stay away from the tour of Tuscany thing, and the fried cheese and prosciutto might be too much of a good thing to start with on your own.  And unlike Aurora, the reigning high end Italian in the neighborhood, the waiters here aren't slack-jawed yokels.  No, the waiters here own the place, as well as a well known sister restaurant in Rome.  How's that bitches, Brooklyn is importing directly from the motherland.