Chris Walker Vs. Pegu Club
“They have a bouncer?” I asked rhetorically, eyeing the burly guy occupying the entryway as Pockets and I walked passed. “That’s unexpected.”
Whenever I read articles or talk to friends about the “best bars” in the United States the same names are always mentioned: Bourbon & Branch, Velvet Tango Room, Milk & Honey, Death & Company, The Violet Hour, Pegu Club, etc. I’ve made it a goal to eventually visit all these places. When I found out my girlfriend, Pockets, lives a mere handful of blocks away from Pegu Club I knew we had to go.
We went the night after I noticed the bouncer, a Saturday. It was around 1:00 AM and we were in need of a well-crafted nightcap. Or two. We passed the same burly guy as we entered, climbed the stairs to the main level, and were instantly hit by a wall of noise. The room was beyond loud. Between the music, and the voices trying to be heard over the music, it was near deafening. It was also packed. As I plotted my approach to the bar (which I could barely see), we were saved by a host, who lead us to the last available two-top. It would be the only good-willed gesture of the evening.
Maneuvering through the sea of bodies, I assessed the crowd. The majority were young and attractive, and clearly more interested in exchanging phone numbers than experiencing how house-made bitters, infusions, or fresh squeezed juices make for a better cocktail. I don’t say this as an insult, more as an observation. There was nothing to indicate Pegu Club caters to a more sophisticated clientele or is a venue people specifically seek out for high-quality cocktails. It seemed more a meat market than a Cocktail Mecca; I felt as if I could’ve been in any bar, lounge, or club in any city.
According to their website, Pegu Club is a place where they consider themselves “gatekeepers” of classic cocktail culture. “Our aim is to preserve the craft of a well-made drink through thoughtful preparation and respectful methodology.” Scanning the battered menu, I didn’t see how that was true. I did however understand why they don’t post a cocktail list on their website: it’s severely underwhelming. There were very few libations to suggest the bartenders at Pegu Club were authorities on classic cocktail culture. Out of two pages of cocktails, I only saw one drink I wanted to try.
That didn’t really matter, though, because by the time we saw a server nearly fifteen minutes had passed and I was thoroughly bored. In the meantime, Pockets and I struggled to have a conversation, a futile effort, even though we were only a few feet apart. When a server finally reached us she was completely disinterested. She was busy, and as customers we were clearly interfering with her job. She offered nothing in the way of guidance or suggestion on the menu, not even recommending the Pegu Club’s house cocktail, which they’re evidently famous for. Also according to the Pegu Club website, you should drink water with your cocktail; she had brought none. When Pockets asked what a certain ingredient was the server, visibly annoyed, said she didn’t know. Besides, they were out of it. What burdens we were. Clearly, we couldn’t order fast enough.
And we did. Then we waited. And we waited. And we waited. I know a cocktail, when properly built, takes time. This wait was excessive. There was still no water. Our server had disappeared. Did she quit? I wondered. Pockets and I kept trying to talk. It was pointless. Finally, through the noise I heard Pockets say something along the lines of “oldest bar in SoHo” and “wood-paneled bar downstairs you’ll love.” The frustration had reached it’s apex, and with the promise of cozier settings we left Pegu Club. I never even tried a cocktail.
Pegu Club is a place where they claim to “do lots of little things well.” I found that they do quite the opposite. For all their pretension and bold claims, Pegu Club is not remarkable. Nor is it impressive or unique. Maybe it should have stayed in the Gulf of Mataban where it originated. While Pegu Club claims to be the torchbearer of classic cocktail cuisine, it seemed like a place where I could order a “Cosmopolitan” or “Chocolate Martini” and not receive a second glance. Perhaps it is even encouraged.
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Posted: April 14th, 2009 | Author: Chris Walker | Filed under: Alcohol | 4 Comments »
Chris, I’ve been to Pegu Club numerous times and never had a bad experience, but that’s most likely because I went early in the evening, before heading out to dinner. It’s never crowded at that point, the noise level is minimal, and you get much more attention paid to you. My husband, who loves is Old Fashioneds, was happy to see the choice of bitters and miscellany flavor bottles they bring to your table. I once got a gin-gin mule that came with a bit of crystalized ginger that was so good I asked for another piece…the waitress brought a little plateful. I think like most other good bars, the more crowded they get, the less attention they can pay you. At this point they’ve been around long enough to know that they should limit the headcount so people like you don’t walk away disappointed, but I guess making money has become the priority.
Katie: You’re right; if I’d gone earlier I could’ve gotten a seat at the bar, had some friendly banter with the bartenders, and probably would’ve ended up with a cocktail that wowed me. When I go back to NYC in June, I may just try that.
I’ve heard about the bitters tray they bring to your table; I’m not sure how I feel about that. It seems kind of gimmicky. What is this, P.F. Changs? I’d like to think when the bartender at a place as note-worthy as Pegu Club makes my drink, he’s made it exactly as he intended, perfectly balanced, and it needs no additional work done to it. It’d be like going to Le Bernardin and having each pristine fish entree brought out with an arrangement of ketchup and barbecue sauces. Or being told to add your own brushstrokes to classic paintings as you gallivant through an art gallery. You know what I mean? Or maybe I’m wrong.
Good bars, the more crowded they get the less attention they can pay you… I don’t know. I might say, yeah, I understand and give them a break but when we left Pegu Club we went to Puck Fair; it was just as packed but as soon as I got close to the bar the bartender identified me as a new patron in need of a drink and service was prompt and friendly. How can a place like Puck Fair rise to the occasion yet Pegu Club can’t? I think it comes down to the quality of your employee, whether one appreciates you as a patron choosing to spend your time and money in their establishment or considers you a burden for just being there and would like to be doing anything other than their job.
Here’s the thing about the bottles of droppers they bring to the table:
On the one hand, I completely agree with you. If you’re going to a bar that’s self proclaimed as understanding the craft of the cocktail, you should expect that bartender to make it exactly as he/she intends…and we, as patrons that put our palates in the hands of these people, should trust them and imbibe the drink as it was intended. It’s a dance that should be part of any great culinary/beverage experience: it’s called control & submission.
On the other hand, the unfortunate truth is that many Americans have a severe problem when it comes to submission. If they’re used to an Old Fashioned with a shitload of sugar, because “that’s the way they make it at home” and they have a stupifying sweet tooth, then they’re gonna wanna adjust their drink to please their palate, no matter how absurd it is. The bar has two choices: 1. say “fuck you, drink the drink the way it was intended” and chance losing customers with lots of Benjamins in their wallets or 2. Capitulate by giving those people the ability to tweak their drinks.
A lot of quality sushi restaurants that are fed up with Americans expecting cream cheese in their sushi rolls are choosing option 1 and showing those types of patrons the door…it’s a ballsy move that I respect and appreciate, and I’m drawn to those types of places, but I get why other establishments just give patrons whatever the hell they want so they’ll shut up and spend money.
Wait, wait, wait. Hold the cab; I am in the essence of despair. I have found out, within the paragraphs of these responses, that it is sometimes difficult to get a drink at the bar when it’s busy? And not just any old bar… but Pegu Club?
I’m going to take a leap and say that it’s any bar, but all you can do is hope that the bar you’re in for specialty cocktails has a higher notch in their service belt. Go before dinner? Nonsense. Everyone likes to be around in the peak of chaos. Pegu have allowed themselves to deteriorate into a meat market. The Soho types can spend the $15 on cocktails and their possible later night dates. Clearly, the crowd is now controlling them, and with the decibel I was using to scream at Chris, I realized that, good cocktail or not, I did not want to be there. I said, “We will have to come back on Tuesday night at 6:00 p.m.” There was no telling at that point if our cocktails would have been hastily made out of necessary speed. I wouldn’t know; I couldn’t see over the collars. And seriously, that place was a complete sausage fest. Not to mention, their door girl was not at all informative or welcoming.
So, really, they bring you a bitters variety like a bake-sale sampler tray? Here you are adults, pepper your drinks with bitters! Make sure you try the pineapple, it’s a zesty bitter. I’m sorry, but my libation lubricated heart lies with the VTR mystique, which says, “We make them in house. That is all you need to know.”
If I drink before dinner I will have to limit myself to a single cocktail, and have the grandma outlook drinking. I will eventually resort to mint juleps, and secretly pray to receive shots of whiskey instead.