Well, the restroom needs more graffiti. But “EAT SHIT, KYLE” is a good start.
“I could see the reflection of the fire on the walls.”
By day, it’s still Trinket, the nice brunch spot Bechard’s former crew opened after taking the keys. By night, it’s NightCap.
Bardot’s small hardwood bar, old-school tavern mirror and smattering of tables serves as a modern pregame spot for West End dinners and nights at the Schnitz.
When summer comes, this is the patio you’ll find us on—happy, dumb and drunk.
A friendly German beer bar grows on Division Street
Dana Frank’s temple to natural wine–and the food it loves best—is undeniably the city’s finest place to drink natural wine.
The theater’s tag line is “Something for almost everyone,” and that’s true if “everyone” means the people you know who listen to OPB and shop at New Seasons.
As much beach bar as geeky tiki, No Bones has ceilings draped in fishnets, a thatched bar, and walls smothered in Waikiki posters and hula-dancer island kitsch.