You know what never gets old?
Fridays.
You know what else never gets old?
Fridays.
And speaking of those, here’s where you’ll drink gin tonight.
It’s The Winslow, and it’s a homey East Village spot that’s exactly what you picture when you hear the phrase “perfect pub.”
You’ll eat. You’ll drink. You’ll occasionally catch a rugby match played on flat-screens otherwise hidden behind chalkboard menus. You’ll go home. You’ll wish you hadn’t.
Two main pearls of wisdom here: they’re big on gin—big enough to have a whole menu of it, along with house-infused specialty tonics and a mezcal/gin hybrid (nothing but trouble there). Also: there’s a crumpet menu. It’s where you’ll learn that duck confit crumpets exist.
As for you: tonight, post up at one of the wooded two-tops along the red tufted-leather banq on the left wall. Push a couple together. Start ordering Fuller’s (it’s on tap). See what happens. If you feel like ginning, gin. If not, you’ll be back.
No one can resist the siren song of gin forever.
Fridays.
You know what else never gets old?
Fridays.
And speaking of those, here’s where you’ll drink gin tonight.
It’s The Winslow, and it’s a homey East Village spot that’s exactly what you picture when you hear the phrase “perfect pub.”
You’ll eat. You’ll drink. You’ll occasionally catch a rugby match played on flat-screens otherwise hidden behind chalkboard menus. You’ll go home. You’ll wish you hadn’t.
Two main pearls of wisdom here: they’re big on gin—big enough to have a whole menu of it, along with house-infused specialty tonics and a mezcal/gin hybrid (nothing but trouble there). Also: there’s a crumpet menu. It’s where you’ll learn that duck confit crumpets exist.
As for you: tonight, post up at one of the wooded two-tops along the red tufted-leather banq on the left wall. Push a couple together. Start ordering Fuller’s (it’s on tap). See what happens. If you feel like ginning, gin. If not, you’ll be back.
No one can resist the siren song of gin forever.
