Pink Pony: The Pink Pony trots somewhere between Manhattan’s Lower East Side and Paris’s Latin Quarter, capturing the best and worst of each. The room itself—which once included a performance space and passageway to Max Fish next door—is an organic bohemian hangout where no one bothers anyone. That’s good if you’re there trying to read Flaubert in peace. It’s bad when the waiters and bartenders are trying to do the same thing. That hit-or-miss wait staff tends to be downtown chic all the way from their snug vintage tees to their Converse sneakers. If they like you, your bistro-meets-café French-Moroccan fare is going to come quickly and it’s going to be good. Should “The Help” deem you unworthy, their French side will show and your order may not. |
