Bar Mario — A Girl's Guide to Drinking Alone

365 Van Brunt St at Dikeman St, Red Hook

The Place: A neighborly Italian restaurant that has great food, endearing bartenders, and perhaps overly-friendly regulars.

The Time: Thursday August 22, 6:15pm. A mild August night with no plans means I take a delightful stroll down to Red Hook to try a new spot: Bar Mario, an Italian restaurant and bar that opened last year that’s been on my radar since it received this glowing review from Grub Street.

The Vibe: It’s a corner spot with a small interior and some pleasant-looking outdoor seating. Bar Mario has the sheen of a new restaurant but the attitude of an established neighborhood institution. Three employees are standing at the entrance, and they welcome me in with a chorus of “ciao!” There’s an absolutely amazing juxtaposition of the aesthetic, which is that vaguely 70s retro decor that’s currently a popular design choice for Brooklyn restaurants, and the pure Italian-ness of the people who work here. Every employee speaks Italian and they are hollering at each other from opposite ends of the room in Italian. It’s awesome.

I take a seat toward the end of the small-ish bar. Barely anyone is here yet, but it starts filling up around 7, 7:30, slotting into a dinner crowd vibe more than a happy hour one. There’s one man sitting at the bar with a glass of wine, having a conversation with the bartender, Enrico, killing time while waiting for his son’s baseball tryouts to finish. Soon they start having a heated discussion about butchers in the immediate Brooklyn area. “I trust Paisano’s.” “No no, my guy at Dellapietras is the best.” Another man arrives (a regular, it turns out) and immediately jumps into the debate when Enrico asks him if he’s ever heard of this place. “Dellapietras? Yeah, it’s very good and very expensive, so I usually just go to Paisano’s.” “That is what I said!” Lather, rinse, repeat.

The Bartender: Enrico! What a lovely, lovely man. He has a bald head and a thick Italian accent, and is just delightful. (The Grub Street critic was fortunate to have him as her bartender as well.) After he asks my name by saying: “signorina, who are you?”, he informs me that I share a name with his childhood dog, then tells me the story of how he moved to New York. When the regular who chimed in on the butcher-dispute asks for a martini, Enrico loudly declares: “A martini is like a haircut.” THAT’S IT. There is no explanation of this simile! I heart Enrico. (I also would probably love everyone else who works here, because at one point, another server asks me how everything is, and when I say it’s great, he says: “I am really happy for that.” <3)

Pappardelle, basil pesto, zucchini, zucchini blossoms, Pecorino, Parmesan *wink*

The Drank: I came here to eat some pasta and drink a Negroni and that is exactly what I do. The Negroni is very good (though, controversially, not made with Campari and instead, an alternative red bitter) but the pasta is stellar. After asking Enrico’s opinion about the gnocchi vs. the “spaghetti hangover,” he convinces me to go with a special: “pappardelle, basil pesto, zucchini, zucchini blossoms, Pecorino, Parmesan,” which he says just like that, all one word, then winks. How can I not!? It’s the right choice. It’s silky, perfectly al dente, with the zucchini cut into ribbons (but NOT zoodles!) so it eats seamlessly with the pasta. I have faith that everything at this place would be delicious.

Was I Hit On?: Oh dear readers, was I ever. I naively thought that the regular and the guy waiting for his son wouldn’t bother me, maybe because I’m far enough down the bar, or because they just have sooooo much in common as white male New Yorkers in their 60s. Once his buddy leaves, the regular, Jeff, saunters over with his martini and asks what I’m reading, with a perfunctory “I don’t mean to bother you.” (Why do men say this?! They obviously mean to bother you!) He tells me he’s from Seattle, grew up in New Jersey, moved to New York for work, met his wife, divorced his wife, moved to Red Hook and has been here ever since. Jeff also tells me a bunch of stories that he starts with “oh this is a funny story.” (Shocker: they are not funny stories.) He backs off a bit when I mention I have a partner, and I am blissfully saved by the bell when he gets a call from whom I can only assume is a delivery guy arriving at his house.

Once Jeff leaves, Enrico silently slides me a biscotti and a small pour of wine, almost like an apology. As if I needed another reason to love him.

Should You Drink Here Alone?: Despite the Jeff of it all, I’m gonna say yes. Bar Mario is charming, delicious, and a great excuse to traipse over to Red Hook. And before you ask, Enrico works Wednesday through Sunday. You’re welcome.

Additionally! When I was leaving Bar Mario, I tried yet again to go to Seaborne but the door was locked, so I guess it was closed. AGAIN. Can someone tell me when this bar is open please???