It's like Sex and the Suburbs and 30 Rock all rolled into one…
My sister was craving pizza and wine; we couldn’t think of a place West of the Hudson River that could accommodate such a desire. We thought perhaps Eldas on Lark, which is our usual haunting ground, but alas, the menu online did not indicate pizza as an option. I suggested getting wine, and pizza and enjoying the air conditioning unit she had acquired, but my sister was very much of the mindset that eating out was necessary. Most pizza places specialize in pizza and beer. So not so much with the wine. We decided on Bacchus, the downstairs sister to Daisy Baker’s.
I’ve had bad meals at Bacchus. There have been times I’ve ordered food and it’s not shown up at the table but has on the bill. This really is the service, and not the chef. Still, presentation as a whole is pretty important.
I do like the beer menu at Bacchus. Five dollars for a Trogs Dreamweaver? Okay, while not the insanely cheap $2.50 I paid at The Ruck, I’m sold on a decent priced good beer. My sister also seemed keen on her red. We ordered the Broccoli Ultimatis, a white pizza with broccoli, garlic and lots and lots of olive oil with some nice sweet tomatoes. It was very good. Not DeFazio’s good, but very good. (I love whole wheat crusts; it’s a weakness of mine that should be addressed.) I was about to be in support of Bacchus, as I love the upstairs Daisy Baker’s, until with our drinks not even half way finished, the waitress dropped off our bill. It’s not that we were going to have another drink, or that the place was full. Perhaps I’m old fashioned, but receiving the bill is the establishment’s way of saying that its time to leave. And not being done and getting that message irks me.
So I’m torn really. The food is good, the service not so much. Perhaps some of my friends are right: Eat upstairs, take out downstairs. Shame, because the downstairs is just as cute.