Corner of West 4th and Jane Streets
Overall: Two years ago, the headline of this review would have said that the Bistro is the reigning king of the big apple. But alas, things have changed, and unfortunately for an old main-stay of mine, not for the better. I had heard that recent quality at the Bistro has left something to be desired. My experience on a recent afternoon validated that notion. The famous Bistro Burger, against which I had measured all subsequent burgers, failed to reach even its own mark. The atmosphere and experience are just as good as ever, which makes the Bistro as valuable to this city as it was two years ago.
“Hi, I’m….”: “Steve, and this is my buddy Rob, and his girlfriend.”
The crowd is always mixed—locals, out-of-towners, and others from all parts of the city. Anyone can fit in, which makes the Bistro a great microcosm of the greatest city in the world. A group of old guys can be sitting next to a table of drunk investment bankers, who can be sitting next to a group of young women (probably in college), dressed to the nines, with straightened hair, full-makeup, tight shirts with plunging necklines, tanned skin, supple lips, piercing eyes, and–
Whew, sorry, got a little caught up in the moment there. Anyway, great crowd, ahem, great crowd.
I’m Here, What do I see? : The entrance to the Bistro has never been impressive based on the actual site of the pub itself. Cleanliness is questionable and the smell of stale beer permeates the air. This is all part of the Corner Bistro’s charm. Pending on the time of day, there could be a huge line of people waiting to be seated. It can be intimidating, but don’t turn away, unless you have either a closed mind or an exceptionally empty stomach.
Arguably, the most enjoyable part of the entrance starts before you are even inside. Tucked away on a quiet corner in NYC’s West Village, its location is a welcomed break from the bustling 8th Avenue. Upon seeing the red neon lights, which have withstood the tests of time, an unlikely sense takes over—the olfactory glands start doing their thing, and something hits you: the lovely smell of bacon. It wafts through the air and ushers you in like a good friend at the doorstep on a cold winter’s night. Smoky, porky, fatty delicious. It calls to you from the street. In only intensifies as you get closer—daddy’s home.
The Good Stuff: It is not without great sadness that I write the following sentence: The Corner Bistro is not currently the best burger in New York City. I am sorry.
The quality has slipped. The meat was underseasoned, and the broiler was probably too hot, yielding a charred, dry crust, with the inside being undercooked. The bacon was too crispy, and the fries were a little overdone. The patty was a good size—always a Corner Bistro staple—but the overall quality of the meat did not justify its size. As always, the McSorely’s Ale was smooth and crisp, but unfortunately, this was the highlight of the visit. The feeling that I was eating something I shouldn’t have been washed over me as I walked away from the Bistro. Had it been hyped in my own mind for so long that it could only disappoint? I do not know. At the end of the day, the burberboy was let down by the old staple. I will, of course, give the Bistro many chances to (re)prove itself to me, but for now, I will need to move ahead with a new beacon in a world of ground beef patties and buns.
Rating (out of 7 cows): 5/7
– burgerboy. 4/29/07
