Waverly Inn
The non-stop celebrity sightings... the secret phone number... the $55 plate of macaroni and cheese... the five-star rave from Time Out NY... the bitter pan from The Post... if nothing else, Graydon Carter's Waverly Inn (formerly Ye Waverly Inn) has got the town talking. Through an unusual set of circumstances (I have an inside man), Debbie and I scored a table in the Inn's front room last night and had a great time peeking at the stars (two), the high-end media types (several) and the rubberneckers (many) and, most satisfying, enjoying a truly delicious meal.The place itself is very pretty, cozy and clubby, with creaky wood floors and rounded red banquettes and a long mural by Edward Sorel in the front; fireplace and ivy-covered walls in the back. The servers are friendly and low-key, the patrons unquestionably fabulous, the atmosphere buzzy and festive and hyper-aware: EVERYone seems to spend their entire meal looking around the room to see who's there, and who's where. Really, I've never seen so many people get up and stop by other tables for a quick kiss and a backslap and a "What ho!" It's exciting; it's exhausting.
Labels: food, the village, west village
2 Comments:
Does every Chicken Potpie get served with a glasses case on the side?
10:29 AM, January 12, 2007
Glasses case on the table: yup, that's why I could never cut it as a high-end media type... much less a star. Thank goodness for my gorgeous girlfriend, buoying me up and distracting the crowds!
11:29 AM, January 12, 2007
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