Pour Us a Glass of All Your Alcohol

Bacon-Wrapped Lamb Chops -- Employees Only

Employees Only

Admittedly, it has taken us an awfully long time to make our way to Employees Only, considering it is located in the West Village and not in some far-off land, like Brooklyn.  But our reluctance toward venturing into the place stems from one of its signature characteristics: it's "sceney."

Sceney = A Place Full of People Who Care. We Don't Care

As previously stated, we greatly dislike "sceney" restaurants, because we much prefer early-bird-special, geriatric "scenes" than those where people try so hard to be fabulous.  Employees Only tends to attract this kind of socially needy crowd because it is modeled after a 1920s speakeasy, its front window proclaiming the space a psychic's office rather than the home of absurdly overpriced cocktails.

Fortune Says We'll Be Tipsy Tonight

Now, maybe we're missing something, but all of these speakeasy throwback establishments that keep cropping up are decidedly not our thing.  ALCOHOL IS LEGAL NOW, GUYS.  Drink up and stop making such a production about it.

Anyway.

Enough Complaining Considering We're Not Even Inside Yet

We make our way past the bar and toward the back dining room of Employees Only, where we are seated promptly despite our lack of reservation ("I really thought I was at the wrong place because you ALWAYS make a reservation." "I don't make reservations when you have to do so by phone.  I don't like to talk to people.")

We Did Not Receive One of These "Exclusive" Pamphlets

Within seconds of watching Ginger's face flicker in shadowy light, Vodka gets down to her most neurotic, yet completely necessary (if you live in her mind), task: she blows out the candle on our table.

Candle in the Wind, Indeed

You see, Vodka has decided that flickering candles have the same effect on her as strobe lights, which is really no effect at all, besides the fact that she doesn't like them.  Evidently, however, Employees Only is VERY into their lighted candles, as not one but two workers approach nearly instantaneously and attempt to hold a match to the wick.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Ginger manages to sputter.  "We don't like it."

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is reason number one why we will never be "sceney."

Employees Only, Pre-Onslaught of Sceniness

While we are technically at Employees Only to eat Rocco DiSpirito's Best Thing I Ever Ate UNDER WRAPS dish, the bacon-wrapped lamb chops, we are much more consumed by the cocktail menu, which is, in two words, EXTENSIVE and EXPENSIVE.

Are They Storing the Booze on the Roof?! Why Is It So Much?

Vodka eventually settles on the Vesper ("It has vodka AND gin -- it's like us in a glass") and Ginger, on the Ginger Smash (and based on the strength of said cocktail, that moniker is about to come to life).

Muddled Ginger = Name of Her Memoir

The Vesper, which is crisp, delicious, and ridiculously strong ("Pour us a glass of all your alcohol"), is right up Vodka's alley, while the Ginger Smash is less sweet than Ginger had anticipated.

Apparently, Cranberries Aren't As Sweet As She Thought They Were

Considering both beverages are $15, we think they could have been a little more heavy-handed with the pours, but by the end of round one, Vodka is already proclaiming, "This is my favorite drink ever," so all is not lost for Employees Only.

Vesper = How to Go Broke in a Glass

We order the bacon-wrapped lamb chops with salsa verde, the bone marrow poppers, the ricotta gnocchi, and the cheese plate.  As we wait, a small loaf of pumpernickel bread appears, with a spread which can only be described as "ranch dressing."  We lap it up heartily (though whether this carb consumption is due to the actual tastiness of the bread or the fact that we are currently awash in boozy cocktails is anyone's guess).

Bread with a Side of Hidden Valley

The lamb chops soon arrive, and after a second of trying to eat them daintily with a knife and fork, we soon begin gnawing on them, Fred Flintstone-style.

Where's Barney When You Need Him?

The chops manage to be crispy on the outside and extremely tender on the inside, and despite the prevalence of wrapped bacon, it somehow doesn't add much to the lamb itself.

It Seems Bacon Does Not, In Fact, Solve Everything

Instead, the salse verde is a much more beneficial accompaniment, and while we certainly enjoy said chops (especially because the meat is not too fatty, as we have had some epic fights with a certain restaurant concerning fatty lamb chops), we're not blown away enough to offer them more than four stars.

We're Sure Employees Only Is Devastated By This News

The bone marrow poppers are... interesting.  A small helping of bone marrow is stuck inside puff pastry poofs, and while we had enjoyed bone marrow when we tried it previously, primarily because it was salty, in Employees Only's greasy and not-all-that-flavorful preparation, we're not super into it.

Pretty, but...

...mostly full of...

...MEH.

In contrast, the cheese plate is the one component on this menu, besides the Vesper, which is something to write home about.  By this point, we are too three-sheets-to-the-wind from our drinks to remember what a single item on the plate is, but just know that all three cheeses, along with the accompanying lavash bread and various nut and oil accoutrements, are just about the best we have ever tasted.

They're Much More Generous With Their Cheese Than With Their Drinks

We Could Do Without That Green Nonsense Getting in the Way of the Bread

Looks Like Pita Crisps, Tastes Like Heaven

The cheese plate is so good, in fact, that it manages to make our usual favorite menu item -- pasta -- almost an afterthought.  The ricotta gnocchi with mushrooms are tasty enough (though Ginger seems to think they're the consistency of tofu, which is never a positive comparison).  They taste almost overwhelmingly like soy sauce, which is a relatively good thing, because that means they're salty, but overall, they just don't hold a candle, lit or otherwise, to the cheese plate.

Essentially Beef and Broccoli, Sans the Beef and the Broccoli

So Just to Confirm, That's NOT Tofu, Right?

For dessert, we settle on the chocolate pudding with hazelnuts, caramel, and a fudge brownie, mostly because it has the words "pudding, caramel, and brownie" in it.  Unfortunately, at the risk of sounding ridiculous (though this is never an actual "risk" we're concerned about), the dessert tastes so overwhelmingly of CHOCOLATE that all of the components get lost in a big blob of chocolate flavor.  At the very least, this dessert is begging for a dollop of whipped cream on top, and as it stands, we're not impressed.

You Heard It Here First -- Chocolate Pudding Can Indeed Be Too Chocolatey

Bring on Bill Cosby and His Pudding Snacks

We are also not into the astoundingly LOUD atmosphere which has by now permeated Employees Only's space.  To say we are now shouting at each other just to be heard above the din is no exaggeration, and the bar area is packed like a rush hour subway train.  After laying down a solid $86 a piece (as a note, we didn't even get an entree -- this "meal" of appetizers and cocktails cost $172), we push (literally push) our way out of the establishment, mumbling all the way about why people would choose to put themselves through this rigmarole on a regular basis.  When Vodka attempts to record this sentiment in her notes, she discovers the following day that what she has actually written is as follows:

"Who goes verte aaa a go-to place?"

And more than anything else, this nonsensical sentence proves why it is a good thing that we don't live in the time of illegal alcohol: you send us into a speakeasy, pour us a couple of glasses of moonshine, and we lose all powers of articulation.

Verte aaa, to you, too, Employees Only.

Employees Only's Bacon-Wrapped Lamb Chops: 4 stars

Which Came First, the Chicken or the Pigeon?

Squab with Lettuce -- Mr. Chow
Mr. Chow

If you're looking for the most anti-climactic dining experience ever, go to a restaurant ready to try pigeon only to be handed chicken instead.  Thanks a lot, Mr. Chow.

Pigeons of the World Rejoice

This pigeon/chicken confusion is not the only time Mr. Chow has disappointed us, as months ago, we were not-so-graciously turned away from the original 57th Street location of the restaurant.  Apparently, in Midtown East, it is considered declasse to allow your customers to sit at the bar and eat not-squab lettuce wraps, so we were forced out of the lily-laden establishment before we had a chance to identify the false advertising they are doing on behalf of pigeons.

You Really Missed Out, Chow - We Would've Consumed This Whole Cauldron Ourselves

Refusing to be defeated by Mr. Chow's antics, we head to the Tribeca outpost, resigning ourselves to eating an actual meal at a table rather than trying to fight our way onto the perpetually empty barstools.

Clearly, The Mr. Chow Graffiti Artist Knew We Were Coming

As it happens, Mr. Chow has only called to confirm our 6:00pm reservation less two hours before, and when Vodka informs Ginger of this timing debacle, Ginger surmises, "They probably just couldn't believe that they HAD a 6:00pm reservation."

Sophia Petrillo Will Be Joining Us for Dinner, Thanks

Indeed, Mr. Chow is "packed" with approximately one guest when we arrive, and Vodka makes a great display of fishing through her handbag in search of her purse hanger.  To go along with our senior citizen dining time, Vodka has taken to hanging her bag off of restaurant tables on a metal hook (given to her by, naturally, her mother), and she calls "Where's my hook?" deep into the recesses of her bag so many times that the busboys begin avoiding our side of the room.

Not to Be Outdone on the Old Maid Scale, Ginger Is Busy Filling Her Water Glass with Airborne

Eventually, when Vodka and her handbag are properly assembled, we get right down to procuring cocktails. Our pomegranate martinis arrive, and Ginger lifts her glass to toast, "Here's to the worst spring of my life."

"Hold on," Vodka waves her hand in Ginger's face, completely ignoring her self-pitying cry for attention in order to photograph the drinks in all of their splendor.  Apparently, nothing gets in the way of our loyalty to this nonsensical mission.

"My Life Is Falling Apart." "You're Blocking My Light."

Little does Ginger know, but her spring is about to get even worse: rather than having the opportunity to taste actual pigeon, as Chuck Hughes had promised on the UNDER WRAPS episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate, we find that the menu description for the "squab" with lettuce reads "chicken and vegetables."  Chicken?!

We Didn't Trek All the Way Down Here for No Stinkin' Chicken!

"We have a question," Vodka confronts our waiter, who the entire staff insists on referring to as "the captain," presumably because he is dressed like Colonel Von Trapp.  "Why is this called 'squab', when actually it's chicken?"

"Nobody wanted to eat squab," he explains.  "So we changed it."

"But we wanted squab," Ginger whines.

"Yes," the captain sympathizes.  "I prefer squab too. It has more flavor."  We nod our agreement, as if either of us has ever considered feasting upon a pigeon, let alone actually done so.  In any case, while all of this back and forth may explain why Mr. Chow no longer serves pigeon, it does NOT elucidate WHY THE DISH IS STILL CALLED "SQUAB WITH LETTUCE" ON THE MENU.

We'd Like to File a Consumer Complaint with the FTC

Moving on from our lack-of-squab annoyance, we order the wraps, along with scallion pancakes, Mr. Chow noodles, and crispy beef.  In the meantime, it had taken "the captain" so long to present himself that our cocktails are almost empty by the time he makes his way to our table, which is how Von Trapp convinces us to order fried rice to accompany the beef.

This Is What One Would Call "Manipulation of the Drunks"

"This is all a ploy," Vodka whisper-yells to Ginger when the captain departs.  "They take forever to get our order so that we're forced to consume cocktails on empty stomachs, and then we'll agree to just about anything."

Well Played, Von Trapp

As we wait for our food, we are perplexed by the large, unsightly electrical cords which are hanging out of the sockets by each table.

Mr. Chow Has Thought of Everything... Except for How to Serve Pigeon and to Hide Electrical Cords

It seems that rather than spotlighting their food, Mr. Chow prefers to give it an under-table shadowy light effect, a choice that causes not only poor design aesthetics, but also makes Vodka's picture taking a disaster of flash.

Is THIS How You Want Your Food to Look, Chow?!

"Tell the captain to turn on the lights," Vodka comments when her third picture in a row of the "squab" comes out blurry and dimly lit.  Thankfully, the taste of the fake pigeon is superior to its looks, as a large platter of crumbled up meat and vegetables sits next to some of the most perfectly circular lettuce leaves we have ever seen.  Spooning hearty portions of the mixture onto the lettuce, we top them with hoisin sauce and roll them up.

Doin' the Pigeon... Or Not, As the Case May Be

The lettuce provides a nice crunch to each bite, and the chicken mixture is fine if rather flavorless (a problem that is rectified by our dear friend, the hoisin sauce).  Overall, the wraps are enjoyable enough, if completely devoid of one key element: pigeon.

Inexplicably, Vodka Could Not Get Enough Pictures of the Lettuce Leaves

Lettuce: A Study in Portraiture

We dive into the Mr. Chow noodles, which feature a helping of long, linguine-like sticky noodles with a sauce that looks disturbingly like bolognese piled on top.

"What is this?" Ginger asks.

"I don't know, some noodle thing," Vodka not-so-helpfully responds.

"I meant the sauce," Ginger clarifies.

Straight Out of Giada's Kitchen

Tasting the mixture, we're still not certain what it consists of, other than thick helpings of ground meat (in other words, a bolognese sauce).  Alone, the noodles would be rather unremarkable, but this mystery sauce takes them to lick-the-plate-clean level.

But Let's Be Real - We Feel This Way About Most Carbs

Speaking of sauce, the scallion pancakes are in desperate need of one.

Someone Hand Over the Hoisin

Much thicker and more cake-like than the scallion pancakes we're used to, they are severely lacking in the typical outer crunch, inner chew, and, well, flavor.

Scallion Pancakes? More Like Scallion Layer Cakes

Ginger flags down one of the busboys and asks for soy sauce, a practice that we're certain Mr. Chow looks down upon.  Within seconds, a second busboy appears with small bowls of a brown substance, a flower petal floating in each.

The Blessed Salty Sauce of the Gods... Or Is It?

"Abowltowashyourfingers," he mumbles in not-quite English.  We blink silently, trying to figure out if what he just said was "soy sauce."

"A bowl to wash our fingers?" Vodka tries to interpret.

"Yes," the busboy answers before skedaddling away.  At this point, we are convinced that it is so rare at Mr. Chow for customers to ask for something as third-class as "soy sauce" that the first busboy misinterpreted Ginger's initial request as being "a bowl to wash our fingers."  Needless to say, this circumstance causes mass hysteria, especially since we are deep into our second pomegranate martinis.

And Worst of All, We're Still Stuck with Bland Pancakes

Five minutes later, as we search in vain for someone to rectify this situation ("WHERE is the captain?!"), the first busboy reappears with a miniature bowl of -- miracle of miracles -- soy sauce.  It seems as though the appearance of the finger-washing bowls mere seconds after we had requested soy sauce had been mere coincidence, and the staff at Mr. Chow is not as daft as, well, we are.

A Compendium of Sauces

This prized soy sauce does help the bland taste of the pancakes considerably (though they pretty much end up tasting like straight soy sauce).

Now Looking Suspiciously Like Scallion Donuts

As we're finishing our three "appetizers," our sole entree, the crispy beef and fried rice, appear, and we look at it rather begrudgingly.  We have now stuffed ourselves so thoroughly on hoisin, bolognese, and soy sauce that the appearance of this orange meat and tub of white rice looks less appealing than it should.

On Second Thought, We'd Like to Send This Back to the Kitchen for Being "Too Much Food"

In the captain's defense, the fried rice (which is barely fried at all) is rather delectable in both taste and texture, and it is served in a generous-sized pot. 

Enough Rice For Everyone Dining at 6:00pm

The crispy beef, while adequate enough, tastes entirely too much like "orange beef" for Vodka's taste, and Ginger eventually escorts most of the dish home with her.

A Tip-Off to This Orange Beef Comparison Could Have Been the Fact That It's, Well, Orange

"Excuse me, I'm showering," Vodka tells the captain when he brings us our check, as she has thoroughly soaked her hands in the water from the infamous "bowl to wash our fingers."  When we steal a glance at our three-figure bill, we have the identical gut reaction: "What happened?!" 

The Captain Is Obviously Trying to Bankrupt Us

It appears as though our three appetizers, one entree, and $64 worth of drinks (whoops) has added up to a whopping $178, pre-tip.  And while we are too liquored up to appreciate the true preposterousness of this figure at the time, we think we can now agree on one thing:

$200+ is a heck of a price to pay for some fake pigeon.

Mr. Chow's Squab with Lettuce: 4 stars