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Secret New York

Hidden restaurants and bars are the latest trend in the Big Apple


11:41 AM CDT on Monday, April 30, 2007

By SARAH LISTON / Special Contributor to The Dallas Morning News


NEW YORK -- On a gritty, tenement-lined block of Manhattan's Lower East Side, I finally spot what I'm looking for: a sign on a knee-high metal gate that says "Lower East Side Toy Co."

But I'm not shopping for toys.

I swing the gate open and follow the stairs to a dark, dingy passageway under the building where only repairmen should venture. Eventually, I climb a metal stairway, pass a vestibule displaying a few toys, open a door with a peekaboo portal in it, and enter the lush wood and velvet surroundings of one of Manhattan's newest speakeasies.

In New York City, where velvet-roped nightclubs, VIP-only reservations policies and posh private clubs are part of the landscape, owners of bars and restaurants are renewing an old form of exclusivity: secret locations.

Unlisted phone numbers, pseudonyms and faux facades advertising businesses that don't exist are only a few of the Prohibition-style efforts that owners make to camouflage their establishments. These urban decampments, relying on word of mouth and the desire to be "in on the secret," depend as much on being undiscovered as they do on being all the rage.

Freemans
At the end of an old Lower East Side alley is a restaurant with multiple window panes, an affection for taxidermy and a sizable list of bourbons. Its offbeat location, in a stable built more than 100 years ago, was discovered when the owners were looking for a place to throw a party.


Freemans, end of Freeman Alley (off Rivington) Freemans is simply a hideaway whose front entrance is not easily visible from the street and could easily be mistaken for the back of another restaurant on the next block.

With a hunting-lodge atmosphere, the restaurant does feel a bit like an institution. You can almost imagine that George Washington ate here. Antiqued cabinets with faded paint and vintage-style metal-top bars at both ends conjure images of barbecued pork and fried green tomatoes. But the menu is more Northern California than North Carolina, with fare such as fennel and goat cheese salad, wild boar terrine and "devils on horseback" (stilton-stuffed prunes wrapped with bacon).

Co-owner William Tigertt explains that the novelty of the location isn't enough to keep people coming back. The focus has to be on the food. "If the food is not good, people won't come."

Freemans, 212-420-0012; www.freemansrestaurant.com.

The Back Room
Hooch may no longer summon the law in these parts, but it sure is fun to pretend.


The Back Room, 102 Norfolk St. Although its sign says "Lower East Side Toy Co.," it is officially known as "The Back Room." The glamorous, low-light space decorated with chandeliers and red velvet lounging couches once operated as a real speakeasy.

Order a cocktail, and it's served Prohibition-style, in a white porcelain teacup. Request a bottle of beer, and the bartender slides it into a brown paper bag. A bookcase at the back of the bar opens to reveal a hidden nook containing a private lounge with its own bar.

"In New York ... people like to go where they're not invited," owner Johnny B. Barounis explains.

The Back Room, 212-228-5098.

La Esquina
La Esquina, a chrome-trimmed shack reminiscent of an old diner car, may appear to be nothing but a bustling, stool-and-counter taco stand. But, it's the entry point into one of the fastest spreading secrets in town: an underground Mexican brasserie accessible only through a gray painted door marked with signs that say, "Employees Only" and "No Admittance."


La Esquina, 106 Kenmare St. After checking in, my husband and I are led on a small journey of light turns over squishy rubber mats in the kitchen and into a dungeonlike brasserie with cast-iron gates and dripping candelabras. The intermittent rumble of the subway only adds to the feeling of being underground, both literally and figuratively.

The cantina is the sexiest sibling of a Mexican trifecta, which includes the street-level taqueria where the hidden entrance to the brasserie is, as well as a cafe around the corner, where the food and atmosphere are a blend of the two. All three establishments operate under the name La Esquina.

It took two tries to get a reservation, which ended up being at the unfashionable hour of 6 p.m. on a Tuesday because it was the only slot left.

The place was almost empty when we sat down, but it filled quickly. Many patrons were women in groups whose voices seemed to increase with each sip of margarita.

Much later, exiting through the secret door was especially fun because the taqueria was buzzing with customers whose glances seemed to be asking, "How'd you get a reservation?" and "What's it like down there?" My dinner had been pretty good, and it suddenly seemed even better.

La Esquina, 646-613-7100.

Milk and Honey
Milk and Honey is on a quiet, Lower East Side block with shuttered storefronts and rows of roll-down metal security gates, They seem to say, "Go away!" But behind a dusty window with lettering that says, "M&H Alterations" is, perhaps, the most inviting cocktail experience that most people will never encounter.


Milk and Honey, 134 Eldridge St. Sure, an unlisted phone number might be an obstacle for some. But for savvy scavengers, a little Googling goes a long way. A simple Internet search for "Milk and Honey" and "212" yields sites happy to dish the 10 sacred digits.

I learned about the bar a few years ago from an acquaintance. She described the attention to detail, the sexy bossa nova music, the dim lighting, and the Kiehl's products in the bathroom.

And then she told me about the house rules.

One says: "Gentlemen will not introduce themselves to ladies. Ladies, feel free to start a conversation or ask the bartender to introduce you. If a man you don't know speaks to you, please lift your chin slightly and ignore him."

Rule No. 7 says: "Do not bring anyone unless you would leave that person alone in your home. You are responsible for the behavior of your guests." It is very simple. Guests who don't follow the rules are not invited to come back.

The small space has a five-seat bar and a handful of booths, which patrons may reserve. The bar doesn't have drink menus, so be ready to hear a list of the day's fresh items. Ingredients vary from grated ginger and fresh mint to grapes and berries.

Heavenly concoctions I enjoyed with guests on a recent visit included a blend of star anise, egg whites, cream and tequila; the Airmail (champagne, lemon juice, rum and honey); the Silver Lining (muddled blueberries, cream, seltzer and gin); and the Gold Digger (orange juice, honey, seltzer and bourbon).

In this alternate universe, where time and care go into making the drinks, abominations such as Cosmopolitans, Rose's lime and Triple Sec don't exist. And they are, most certainly, not missed.

Milk and Honey, unlisted phone, but in the spirit of this story, try Googling the name and 212.

Sarah Liston is a New York freelance writer.