Waking up at noon and knowing it's finally your day off after a weekend shift that left you tattered and torn.
It's Monday.
It's industry night!
I started texting around to see who was down to check out the newest restaurant in the neighborhood because, that's right, why did you bartend or served hard all weekend long?
To spend all the money you made in the trendiest places in your 'hood.
And living in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn, was no different.
Long before the baby strollers blocking sidewalks and the snooty people giving you the once over, it was a little place where the neighbors were friendly and the restaurants and bars were trendy. A place where you could pop in and out and see someone you knew. Where block parties were fun (Dave Chappelle knows) and everyone was welcome.
You were definitely sure to dine with a celebrity on any given night and then walk home, maybe hitting up your favorite bar just to see if your bartender friend was working because, you know, it was $1 PBR night and $20 went a long way.
You could meet your favorite friend in Williamsburg, walk down DeKalb in Fort Greene or take a gypsy cab for $7. Bushwick, Park Slope, you name it. Every surrounding neighborhood cost less than $10 to get to.
Or, if it was nice out, you could walk and take in the liveliness of people dining outside on Lafayette and having fun, knowing that almost any place you stopped, you were going to get great service, plenty of food and cocktails and wines that were right up your alley.
BUY THREE, THE FOURTH GLASS IS FREE.
You could walk into a wine store and the salesperson, probably me, would tell you about the latest trend:
"Natural wine."
This was summer, winter, fall and spring.
Reservations weren't something you booked. Yelp was a hater's paradise. Restaurants were trendy because you could go in and enjoy the food and drinks, not because you had to wait a month to find an opening.
You could get off work at nine pm, have dinner at the cutest little spot you had ever seen and feel transported to another country and time. You could take it all in, chill and drink a glass of wine.
Your check would be less than $50. You would leave a great tip, be full and have enjoyed a few glasses or even a bottle.
The years were somewhere between 2008 and 2015.
Was I imagining this?
The pandemic came, and went.
Things slowly started opening again. People started returning to the scene, and one thing I noticed was the change in restaurants and in the people working inside them.
Everything started feeling a little more entitled. Service with a smile disappeared.
Meanwhile, the prices tripled?
Am I imagining this?
I have long since moved to what I thought would be the quieter streets of Ridgewood, and they were, for a time, until this past year and that damn Time Out magazine review.
Life changed. The scene changed.
And the "wine bars" have now morphed into things I can't fathom.
So What Changed?
Going out today is not a spontaneous event.
Gone are the days when you could go for a walk and, on your way back, pop into your favorite little restaurant. Even when it was popping, you could usually get a seat at the bar and have a great night.
Now, everything is planned.
A few months ago, well, sometime last year, we decided to take a cab into Fort Greene and hit up a restaurant where a friend of ours works.
We got out of the cab out 4:50 p.m. (the restaurant opens at 5), saw how long the line was, turned right back around and took the bus to Bed-Stuy.
We did find another place, but it wasn't the vibe or energy we had been hoping for that evening.
The bartender was great, but some evenings I want to be off work and be wowed by your wine knowledge. I don't want to have to teach you a thing or two about wine.
After all, you have a plethora of knowledge sitting right behind you.
I worked at a mezcal bar around 2017. Before working there, I knew nothing about mezcal. During my time there, we learned so much that you could ask me about any bottle and I could tell you its flavor profile. Better yet, if you told me what you were in the mood for, I could give you the exact thing you didn't know you needed.
Not today.
I can't remember the last time I stepped into a place, asked the server or bartender a simple question about the wine list and wasn't directed to the busy somm, who always looked a little sweaty from running back and forth between tables.
What gives?
Does everywhere require a reservation?
Where are the "let's pull up" spots where I can eat, drink and be on my merry way?
What if I don't want to leave my credit card on file like I'm in Vegas, staying at a resort that needs a deposit?
Are people going out now so untrustworthy that restaurants can't trust us to sit, eat, pay and tip?
Is this mostly about tipping?
I work just as hard for my money, girl.
Am I not allowed to enjoy it too?
Has every spontaneous glass become an expensive event?
A few years ago, we went to a restaurant in Greenpoint that came highly recommended. We were ready to eat, drink and spend some money.
You know, one of those days.
The service was subpar, and I'm giving it a higher rating than it deserves.
Coming from the restaurant industry, I know that every customer should be treated like they are your last customer on Earth. Nothing is personal. You give great service, which leads to more upselling and, ideally, a bigger tip.
Not this bartender.
I asked him about a few wines on the menu, and I swear I was bothering him.
He kept disappearing from the bar. The mezcals we asked about were placed in front of us without any explanation, as if we were supposed to read the bottles and pour our own, which I would have gladly done, given the circumstances.
Because of the service, we hurried out of there just to be done with that chapter of the night.
Then we asked for the check.
It was over $200.
And I still had to leave a great tip, or I would have been stereotyped.
We were still hungry and hadn't experienced half the things we might have with a better bartender.
And I kept thinking: if that had been me, and I saw two people sitting in front of me ready to chill, eat, drink and have a great time, their check would have been over $400. I would have secured a nice tip for myself, and they would have left raving about the place.
Sadly, this kind of experience keeps coming up in regular conversations.
This has mostly left us going to restaurants where we know someone working, just to get that old New York service.
And it shouldn't be that way.
Meanwhile, restaurants keep raising their prices to compensate for long hours and high overhead, when they should be looking at the people they hire because, more often than not, those people are literally leaving money on the tables and the bars.
The Wine Bag Gets Personal
Working as a wine rep only made me more jaded.
It also helped me understand why the wine lists are now of a lesser standard than what we were used to.
Many buyers have little knowledge of the wines they're tasting. They know even less about placing those wines on a list, pairing them with food or teaching their staff the basics.
Buyers are quick to order wines that are going out of vintage to pad their menus. There's nothing inherently wrong with those wines, but it is always baffling when I sell you a bottle for $4 and then see it on the menu for $56.
Those wines are supposed to support your happy hour program or encourage people to get into wine, not sit untouched on a menu.
Industry secrets right here.
Honestly, it is often better for me to pay the corkage fee and bring a nice bottle to dinner than to trust the list I see at most places.
But that also defeats the purpose of going out when I know there's a better bottle at home waiting for me.
I will say this: if you go out on a random Monday in the middle of the day, you are more likely to receive the service and hospitality you need than you are at night.
Great day servers have become the rule, not the exception.
My Evening on Halsey St
One evening after a long day, I decided to brave the Gen Z crowd and stop by a new wine bar on Halsey that I had watched getting ready to open.
It had finally opened.
I had to psych myself up because isn't this what most people imagine when they hear that you sell wine?
Ahh, that must be so cool. You get to drink wine all day, visit the latest places and try the latest things. Tell me about your new favorite wine bar?
Umm…
None.
After all, I don't get a budget to spend on "research." Anywhere I go, it comes out of my own pocket.
And have you seen the price of a glass of wine these days?
So I jumped off the B26 and walked in.
I told myself I was on a mission.
I was going to have one glass of their shitty BTG wine, introduce myself to the owner so I could return and taste him on some amazing wines, pay for my glass, tip nicely, jump back on the bus and take my little ass home.
But when I walked in, I was greeted with a warm welcome.
Umm, hold on.
I asked if I could sit at the bar and was directed there, nicely.
I noticed the guys behind the bar shucking oysters. They looked up and smiled.
Okay. Off to a good start.
The server came over, gave me water, told me the specials and said he would be right back.
Two things caught my eye immediately, after I found my reading glasses.
The menu was short and to the point.
Loving this already.
Most of the wines were BTG.
Interesting.
And the prices?
I don't think I had seen prices like that since 2016, right before November of that year, if you catch my drift.
So I hung my bag on the hook beneath the bar, took off my jacket and settled into my seat.
The oysters were $1 for happy hour.
And girl, it was happy hour.
Umm…what?
Naturally, I ordered a glass of wine and six oysters, and they gave me a nice pour.
In passing, the server asked what I did. I told him.
So the owner came out and started pouring from a freshly opened bottle.
I think that is a great strategy and a gamble that paid off for him because I am a sucker for great service.
Butter me right and…you get a nice toast, pun intended.
Sure enough, I don't know how many buses passed me by.
Three glasses and 12 oysters later, I paid my tab.
It was only $52.
And if you live in New York City:
WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW.
I left with the promise that I would return with a group.
And you bet your bottom dollar that everywhere I went over the following weeks, I told people about the little wine bar that brought me back to a time when things felt pure, my legs were young and skinny, I had more than three friends, and I didn't have a husband to rush home to because it was my night to make dinner.
But in all honesty, that wine bar proved that a good wine bar isn't only about cheap drinks or being younger.
It is about being welcomed,
being curious,
and being allowed to stay, without the room making you feel as though your time has expired.
For that hour and a half, I had that old feeling again.
I could walk in without needing a reserved seat. The wine list was as interesting as the smiling oyster shuckers. The room felt alive.
And hospitality didn't feel like something I had purchased by the minute.
So,
Did the good wine bars disappear, or did the city, the industry and I all change?
