If you are to deploy the phrase “I know a little place”...
Said place should be dark and intimate.
It should be hidden in an alley.
And it’d better have some rye whiskey, Al Green and a rhino head or else...
It should be Alley, a secret new bar for rye-and-cabernet cocktails accessed via alley, now quietly open Wednesdays through Saturdays in Culver City.
This place has late-night rendezvous written all over it. To begin, you’ll have a bite at the restaurant up front, Fin, or somewhere nearby—like Gravlax or Corner Door. Then, at meal’s end, here it comes: “I know a little place...” Right before you usher your date behind Fin, into an alley and up to an imposing doorman. So, yeah, bit of a trust exercise.
Inside: it looks like a small piece of the Viceroy broke off and drifted away. It’s a dusky little blue-walled lounge with circular mirrors and white-wood animal heads. Soon you’re ordering a couple Cagneys (rye with brandied cherries and cabernet) at the black marble bar while blues, soul or ’70s rock plays.
And when Al Green creates a need for one of you to run your fingers through some tassel-like curtains, abscond to the more private, couch-lined nook beyond.
Note: tassel curtains. Everyone can still see you.
Said place should be dark and intimate.
It should be hidden in an alley.
And it’d better have some rye whiskey, Al Green and a rhino head or else...
It should be Alley, a secret new bar for rye-and-cabernet cocktails accessed via alley, now quietly open Wednesdays through Saturdays in Culver City.
This place has late-night rendezvous written all over it. To begin, you’ll have a bite at the restaurant up front, Fin, or somewhere nearby—like Gravlax or Corner Door. Then, at meal’s end, here it comes: “I know a little place...” Right before you usher your date behind Fin, into an alley and up to an imposing doorman. So, yeah, bit of a trust exercise.
Inside: it looks like a small piece of the Viceroy broke off and drifted away. It’s a dusky little blue-walled lounge with circular mirrors and white-wood animal heads. Soon you’re ordering a couple Cagneys (rye with brandied cherries and cabernet) at the black marble bar while blues, soul or ’70s rock plays.
And when Al Green creates a need for one of you to run your fingers through some tassel-like curtains, abscond to the more private, couch-lined nook beyond.
Note: tassel curtains. Everyone can still see you.
