Broome St pub

Off in search of new to me is not very hard in the city that never sleeps especially with my six year old TimeOut guide to New York providing me with classics. For some reason I wanted to head up West Broadway and ended up at 363 and Ken’s Broome Street Bar.


I overheard, and then was involed in, a great Cheech and Chong conversation about eggs between bartender Paul and one of his regular customers. “Could I get some eggs.” “Sorry no eggs after five.” “Couldn’t I get some special eggs.” “Sorry no eggs.” “Okay I guess I will have the usual.” “Are you sure I cant get some eggs?”

“Dave’s not here.” “Is Dave there?” …

I enjoyed a delicious ham sandwich, with swiss, complemented by a tasty cracked seed mustard and a side of a small salad with cucumbers.

The next night I was headed further north but stopped in at Fanelli’s Cafe on the way and had a Dogfish Head 60 minute and my seat at the bar included  a free ticket for a conversation with an aging, fermented, gamey alcoholic from Willmar, Minnesota, of all places.


He pointed out, through his buzzed haze, that he was the high school quarterback, a Merit scholar, a former Marine and, perhaps, associated with Harvard in some way. Although I thought I had lost most of my sense of smell, the pungency made it hard to lean in close enough to hear well. When he advised me of his plan to personally take on the middle east situation, i was glad my beer was finished and could head out the door.

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