Victor — A Girl's Guide to Drinking Alone

285 Nevins St at Sackett St, Gowanus

The Place: A cool and colorful Mediterranean restaurant on an otherwise desolate street in Gowanus.

The Time: Friday November 11, 7:30pm. I was working late at the co-working space I go to on 3rd Street. I first heard about Victor (the restaurant, not the man I very briefly dated back in 2017) last year, when someone I knew from high school came by Sweet Polly and mentioned that she was running their bar program. For some reason, this information lodged itself deep in my brain and as I’m leaving the co-working space on this rainy Friday night, I decide to pop over to Victor and finally check it out.

The Vibe: Part of Gowanus’ charm is that it feels like a dirty, grim, warehouse district, so Victor’s pink exterior really stands out. There’s a big fun mural on the outside, so at least it looks like something if you happen to be walking by. Inside is just as colorful, with both magenta and seafoam green walls. I immediately see Karly behind the bar and pull up one of the wicker bar stools in front of her. Sitting further down the bar is an older guy, definitely a regular since Karly refers to him by name, but the rest of the crowd seems to be of the 20s-30s set. Karly says it’s a little slow for a Friday, but nearly every table fills up at some point. Two people are standing next to me for a while, waiting for their other friends. They seem to be part of some rock climbing club that maybe didn’t happen tonight because of rain but they still decided to do the drinks part anyway? (There’s only so much I can figure out while eavesdropping.) After these two talk for 10 minutes, the guy is like “maybe we actually did meet at that one party?” Yikes. He also keeps referring to “my friend Austin” over and over, and I’m like, my guy, you’re definitely fucking Austin, just admit it.

The Bartender: Karly’s the only bartender on tonight and she’s holding down the fort like an absolute champ. Since I know her, I spend most of my time chatting and catching up with her. We talk about people we’re still in touch with from high school and how we were both destined to work in booze because of various “bougie” things we liked when we were underage (hers: ordering Midori Sours; mine: buying Svedka instead of Crystal Palace).

The Drank: Weekend Wind, a Karly original. It’s got mint-infused mezcal, contratto, orgeat, lemon and green chartreuse, “a play on a Naked and Famous,” she tells me. It’s really tasty and super drinkable, not to mention the colors match the decor. Because I’m on the green chartreuse train, I get a Last Word as my second drink. (As I’ve mentioned before, I’m in a fierce yet utterly trivial competition with a friend about how a Last Word should be garnished. Karly dropped a cherry in it — I’ll take the L.) I also order the Salade Verte with cucumbers, whipped feta, pickled shallots and breadcrumbs. It’s a delicious, substantial salad, which is not a sentence I say often. “Yeah someone wrote an article about that salad and now we just can’t take it off the menu.” They shouldn’t, it rules.

Was I Hit On?: Nah. I think it might happen when a solo guy sits one spot away from me. He orders a cabernet and shishitos, and eventually he, Karly and I end up commiserating about terrible bars on the Upper West Side. For me and Karly, they’re places that wouldn’t let us in. For him, they’re just shitholes that he misses (Raccoon Lodge, RIP).

Should You Drink Here Alone?: Definitely. I know I’m biased because I’m friends with the bartender, but Victor would be a really nice spot to enjoy a drink and a meal by yourself. It’s a bummer that it’s situated basically in a construction site; surrounding it is just vacant lots with abandoned machinery. A gem like this deserves prime real estate.

* UPDATE* Victor is now closed