When I first discovered this place, I told Paul about how I found this amazing little gem of a dive bar in the West Village that would be perfect for the book. When he asked me the name of it, and I told him it was the Corner Bistro, he and the two girls sitting at our table laughed in my face. Of course my reaction was, â€œEat a bag of dicks, fuckfaces,â€ with which, they responded to with more laughter (my insults are never very convincing). Apparently the â€œdiscoveryâ€, which I had attributed to my finely tuned, broke-ass sensory perception, was really quite famous, bordering on being world-renowned. Paul hammered this point in by telling me, â€œIt’s like coming to me and telling me that you found this great place called the Chelsea Hotel.
Regardless of my newbie naÃ¯vetÃ©, I can tell you that this place hits pretty much every benchmark of what makes a bar great: $2.50 Budweisers, $3.50 Stellas and $5.75 for one of the best burgers you’ve ever had. Plus it looks like someone completely forgot to gentrify it. It has exposed brick walls, old wooden booths, a register that whirs when used, and has a jukebox that plays nothing but jazz and blues. And the best part of this is that none of it meant to be ironic; it’s actually this way. What? That’s not enough for you? It also manages to attract hotties of all persuasions too. If you see me there, buy me a drink.
The Corner Bistro
331 W 4th St. @ Horatio St.