American Bar
The one West Village restaurant that has never disappointed me.
Recently, I’ve been testing a theory: while I think I’m pretty good at getting reservations, there are some restaurants that I’ve completely given up on. Honestly, I blame it on the Resy bots—there’s just no way that real-life human beings can be all clicking that fast… I digress. But, one guaranteed bot-free way to get into a restaurant? The good ol’ walk-in. Even if it may require patience and perhaps a bar seat, I’ve been having a hunch that it may be much easier to just show up in person at these hard-to-book locations, and yet I had never tested it before… until recently.
A few weekends ago, Viraj and I decided it was high time that we take another approach to getting into 4 Charles Prime Rib after frustrating and failed Resy attempts: showing up in person on a Saturday right as the restaurant opens.
All day, I was weirdly a ball of nerves. While I didn’t necessarily mind whether or not we actually got into 4 Charles, the uncertainty was killing me… and I was feeling a bit competitive. Then four o’clock rolled around, and Viraj and I slowly made our way over to the West Village, arriving at the restaurant at around 4:50 p.m. A line of around ten people had already formed in front of an outdoor host stand, and, with my confidence a bit shaken, we got in line. Now, Viraj was a bit unenthusiastic about this experiment from the start (he holds a quite respectable anti-line stance), so I tried to keep spirits up as those ahead of us put their names down for the waitlist.
As we got to the front—it was now 5 p.m.—it was apparent that our odds were looking pretty bleak: we overheard the host inform another person that it was unlikely that they would make it off the waitlist. Delusionally hoping for a different answer, we stayed in line until we were at the front, where as I put my information down the host let us know that if we were to make it off the waitlist, it would be at the end of the night. It was both the expected outcome and a disappointing one. In New York, I feel like I’m constantly learning the same lesson: never underestimate a New Yorker’s willingness and dedication to waiting in line. Next time, I’ll be showing up at 3 p.m. with a chair and a book.
While we had gotten unlucky already, I walked down to Don Angie, just in case the reservation gods decided to smile on me or something. Viraj, ever the pessimist, went to get a table at American Bar. You definitely know what’s coming, but I bet you couldn’t have guessed that as I walked down Greenwich Avenue to Don Angie, I noticed two girls my age who had also been in the 4 Charles line walking the same way. As I took notice of them, they must have as well, because then before I could even register what was happening I was speed walking, and then sprinting down the street as they were doing the same. I must have looked ridiculous, running in my brand new platform Dr. Martens that I hadn’t yet broken in. But that’s another New York lesson: no one cared.
A sprint and a pair of broken-in shoes later, I arrived at the host stand at Don Angie, only to be immediately informed that their waitlist was closed for the night. In case you’re curious, they open their waitlist at 3:30 p.m., and on that day, it was full by 3:45 p.m.
So, American Bar it was, and fortunately, I’m very fond of it. See, the West Village is such a wonderful place to lifestyle creep, and yet so many of the restaurants are prohibitively hard to get into. And while this may be happening everywhere in New York, the biggest culprit and the subject of most of my frustrations has been the West Village. But American Bar, a country club dining room transported to Manhattan, provides that good West Village feeling of being somewhere exclusive, somewhere that only a certain someone would be welcomed into, without requiring one’s first-born child for a reservation. In fact, Viraj was already seated when I came to the restaurant, fresh off of two defeats.
Not only does American Bar have a wonderful ambiance that makes everything from a visit from friends out of town to a regular Monday night feel extra special, but the food and drinks are excellent (and well… thematically pricey… but it’s alright). If I’m drinking, I get the American Bar martini. It’s a classic done well, a theme for the rest of American Bar’s offerings.
The most fun part of eating at American Bar is the appetizers. I’ve ordered the pigs in a blanket quite a few times, and while they’re most definitely expensive for what they are, like an addict, I can’t stop ordering them. The dijon mustard they serve with it is exceptional, and there’s something so fun about eating little bits of sausage and pastry off of fancy toothpicks. And then there are the fries and onion strings, the most exceptional part of the menu. Shoestring fries are my favorite, and American Bar nails it, with every bite perfectly crisp, and the onion strings have the most wonderfully delicate fry.
If you’re visiting for a full meal, however, I recommend going on a Monday for their french dip weekly special—instead of the normal au jus, it’s served with a peppery au poivre sauce. On any other day, however, the cult-favorite peanut chicken salad is a favorite for a reason, and the spicy lobster pasta has an addictive heat and is surprisingly not overrated. American Bar’s cheeseburger is popular, but the last time I ordered it, I found it mushy and uninteresting. It’s not a bad burger, but I’d skip it and get something else.
Country clubs aren’t for everyone—I, for one, am absolutely not the type—but in many ways, American Bar has never failed me. Next time you’re in the neighborhood, drop by to LARP as someone who definitely knows how to golf, or just for some really good fries.
Bite it!
Make a Resy here. But if you’re not picky about where you’re seated, you could probably get away with walking in.