Bar chefs = proof the terrorists did not win

Sometimes I feel like New York City needs one gigantic bitchslap. From Fine Drinking in Tribeca:

Downstairs at the mellow and sophisticated B Flat, your bar chef meticulously measures each ingredient, uses three different sizes of ice cubes (the largest of which is filtered, frozen, chopped and chiseled in-house) and only takes your order if you're sitting down (because greatness shouldn't be rushed).

These ice cubes are frozen and chiseled IN-HOUSE!? How fucking incredible. I usually outsource my ice chiseling to a place in Bangalore.

And there's three different sizes of ice cubes?! Precious. I hope they also have urinals that automatically adjust to my exact height. And napkins that come in different shades so I know one will match my seafoam tie. And I hope they stir the drinks with the tusk of a freshly murdered elephant.


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