Bottles.
Glasses.
Cans.
Mini kegs.
Animal statuary.
For a minute there, you knew exactly where this was going...
Check out Antler Beer and Wine Dispensary, a subterranean cavern of beer and wine in all their formats, now open on the LES.
This is one of those spots where you forget what year it is or that you have other responsibilities (in a good way). A homey, concrete-bar labor of love by a couple of bandmates and longtime barmen made for post-work bottles of biodynamic vino and mini kegs of kölsch. (Full-size kegs are murder on the tables.)
The front region here smacks vaguely of record studios of yore—wood paneling, a tiny, elevated garden with a stone rabbit, wainscoting painted to look like an equalizer. The back: like someone’s sacred literary basement, where deep conversation and canned organic wines (yep) round out late nights.
Your play: start out front at the picnic table. Have a shandy. Get familiar. As you begin to accept that you won’t be productive tomorrow, pull up a bench (built from scrap by the owners) in back. Or set up shop at the round table over plates of avocado-green-chili deviled eggs and on-tap cab.
Built from grapes by the French.
Glasses.
Cans.
Mini kegs.
Animal statuary.
For a minute there, you knew exactly where this was going...
Check out Antler Beer and Wine Dispensary, a subterranean cavern of beer and wine in all their formats, now open on the LES.
This is one of those spots where you forget what year it is or that you have other responsibilities (in a good way). A homey, concrete-bar labor of love by a couple of bandmates and longtime barmen made for post-work bottles of biodynamic vino and mini kegs of kölsch. (Full-size kegs are murder on the tables.)
The front region here smacks vaguely of record studios of yore—wood paneling, a tiny, elevated garden with a stone rabbit, wainscoting painted to look like an equalizer. The back: like someone’s sacred literary basement, where deep conversation and canned organic wines (yep) round out late nights.
Your play: start out front at the picnic table. Have a shandy. Get familiar. As you begin to accept that you won’t be productive tomorrow, pull up a bench (built from scrap by the owners) in back. Or set up shop at the round table over plates of avocado-green-chili deviled eggs and on-tap cab.
Built from grapes by the French.
