The Red Head

This morning’s restaurant review in the New York Times is of The Redhead- more fondly known as Detour. This was DG’s dive bar under his house that had turned into a restaurant during the time we’ve been dating. The review is right the food is great- but I love this place for the dive bar it used to be. Last fall, while we were dating, I started to realize that this bar was where DG basically lived.

There was a little family there. Two of the owners tended bar every night. There is a girl Naomi- who I think was DG’s best friend. The chefs from MommaFuku, and true lower east side bar rats. (Oh and I’m not talking about the SERIOUS rats outside that moved in because the building on the corner was condemned and everyone got kicked out and had to leave their stuff (fridges and everything) and a SEA, AN OCEAN of rats moved in).

We were there on a date once and he told me about a time he was in Aspen with friends and ran into a Detour friend. He looks up in a nice bar in Aspen and sees a swirley eyed, tweeky haired, LES DiveBarDetour regular- miles away from 13th and 1st.

It is in this bar turned restaurant that I learned the blue-collar Yankee practice of putting your drinking money for the evening on the counter- and you drink until that money runs out. Place it on the side of the bar closest to the tender, parallel to the edge of the bar. And it sits.

The article talks about painting that place. We were those drunks to leave that they mention and that was because we chatting with the regulars and owners who were staying to paint. I remember the next night and hearing how long they were at it. And the cookies passed around the bar. And the fact that we never EVER used to have to pay for more than half of our drinks.

The article is right though- now it is a super cute place, its always packed and we don’t go there as much.

I did stop by last night though. I promised DG that I would cook him dinner this week to thank him for getting me home Sunday night. It’s almost 9 when I leave work and go to the whole foods two blocks away.

I was exhausted by the time I got across town to DG’s, crazy lines, heavy bags and long work day plus a cab across town. DG said he had to run out quickly and left me a key. So I headed on past The Redhead and to DG’s apartment. I took a shower and started drying my hair- thinking random thoughts. In the middle of these thoughts. All of the power went out.

I blew a fuse. I tried to figure it out for a little bit. The boys had been gone for a while and at this point Id worked myself up into frenzy and I decided to go to The Redhead (we call it Detour) downstairs for a drink.

I found a seat at the bar- a tough thing to do before 10pm

these days. Two of the three owners were there working behind the bar- they are usually there- and I told them what Id done to DG's APT. One of the guys looked confused for a moment, asked what floor the apt was on and went down to the bars boiler room. HE told me it was connected and to come back if I went up there and nothing had changed. And then this morning- NYT review. It’s all connected.