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PDT: If PDT really stands for “please don’t tell,” no one's listening. Turns out New Yorkers aren’t so good at keeping secrets. Everyone and their brother seems to be telling someone about PDT, and for good reason. Just getting to this bar is an adventure in itself. You’ll first have to pass through swiney basement hot dog joint, Crif Dogs, and then step into a phone booth to request entry by picking up the receiver. (Very Bond-esque.) A divey, low-ceiling room with a long bar is what awaits you, along with a cocktail list dreamed up by master mixologist, Jim Meehan. If you can make the cut here (you'll need reservations), knock back a Pimms Rangoon, schmooze with all the "privileged" ones, and milk that $11 drink for all it’s worth. Just don't drink and tell. |
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