Sunburnt Calf

K wanted brunch with never-ending mimosas, bloody marys, etc. for her birthday, so we headed to Sunburnt Calf — the fairly recently opened sister of Bondi Road and Sunburnt Cow on the Upper West Side — for an Australian-ish celebration. The deal was incredible: $18 for a sizeable, not completely mundane entree, plus as many beverages as you can guzzle in 1.5 hours. Think perfectly poached eggs, the fattest banana pancakes (erm, “pikelets”) you’ve ever seen, an insane burger (pineapple, beets and a fried egg on top?!) and a headache the following day that proves you more than got your money’s worth…

The bathroom was much like the low-priced fare: something typical with a twist. It was the normal, closet-sized Manhattan restroom with the world’s tiniest sink — I think it’s funny that sink manufacturers actually have to produce these pint-sized sinks, just for urban bars and restaurants — but everything was RED, including the paper towel dispenser. Sunburnt Calf also made good use of the wall space, substituting ads for the chain’s other restaurants for artwork. Clever, clever. I also found the bathroom’s sliding door very fascinating and unique, including the signs inside that told you to “slide” and “lock.”

K’s birthday was a blast, so I headed back for my own birthday so I could try that beet-bedecked burger. It was also a good time, but I think I should keep my Sunburnt Calf trips to a minimum. Or just remember not to go head to head with a guy to see who can have the most bloody marys before our entrees show up. Oops. At least I got a lot of lycopene, right?

Restroom Rating: [rating=4]

STK

Once upon a time, I went to Ajna Bar in the Meatpacking District, met five Australian guy on a U.S. tour who were triple-fisting Coronas and had such a fabulous evening that I thought Meatpacking was my favorite neighborhood in NYC when it comes to nightlife… And then I went to STK and realized it was actually a bunch of sleazy people who wore tons of hair gel and dresses that were too small. Without those vacationing Australians, this place was lame and totally not my style.

STK is also a restaurant, and people were still dining there when we left well after midnight. Why they chose to eat there is beyond me, because this place was p-a-c-k-e-d, dark and extremely loud — all things that are often expected at a club, but that’s not the way I like to eat my dinner. Imagine the experience: “Hello, Mr. Steak. I’m going to talk to you, because my friend can’t hear me even when I yello. Problem is, I can hardly see you. Oops, a drunk girl bumped into the table and knocked on the floor. Sorry, Mr. Steak. What’s that you say? I can’t hear you…”

STK’s restroom was typical of a fancy-ish NYC club: it was dark with the exception of harsh lights at the sink (although I did like the spherical exposed bulbs that were reminiscent of old Hollywood), and it was near the the coat check so you could fix your lipstick upon arrival and before leaving. The sink was long and had multiple faucets. And they had the dreaded bathroom attendant. Oof. Positives? I didn’t feel pressured to tip her for handing me a paper towel — perhaps because the bathroom was crowded — and the coat check was free.

I’m totally over the Meatpacking District, but I do love dressing up and wearing too much dark eye makeup, so I’ll likely return — just not to STK. And beware the cocktails: at 16 bucks a pop, I expect to feel warm and fuzzy inside, but instead, it further fueled my annoyance with the place.

Restroom Rating: [rating=4]

Bourbon Coffee

K and I decided to top off a Sunday afternoon shopping trip with Starbucks caramel macchiatos, but on our walk from 5th Avenue in the teen streets (my favorite area to shop in NYC) back to the 2/3 train at 14th Street, we passed Bourbon Coffee just before reaching Starbucks, and opted to give it a try instead of patronizing the McDonald’s of coffee. Inside, Bourbon Coffee was stereotypically coffee-shoppy — you know, rich browns, high-backed chairs, lots of leather and funky artwork — but in a less mass-produced way than Starbucks.

The bathroom was similar: earthy, spacious and spotless, with a marble sink and waterfall faucet to give it character. Unique sink hardware can be transformative, and I can’t imagine it’s that much of an investment. K hit up the bathroom first and was excited to tell me about the sink. I love when people love my blog, and I like that, through my blog, my friends are taking note of public bathrooms.

My pralines & cream espresso drink was tasty and pretty, and served in a real, environmentally-friendly mug. The price was comparable to Starbucks, but it was evident that we weren’t ordering coffee at a corporate behemoth: the baristas mixed good drinks and were very nice, but things didn’t move like a whirring machine, and there was a little confusion at the register. But it wasn’t bad enough to give Bourbon Coffee a bad rating, and K has since returned.

Restroom Rating: [rating=3]

Restroom Rating: [rating=1]

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Outback Steakhouse

Yes, I’m admitting to having recently dined at a chain restaurant in NYC, the mecca for all things good to eat. My friend raves about the “macaroo” on the kids’ menu at the Outback Steakhouse (penne in creamy, Velveeta-y cheese sauce that she “grows up” with the addition of steamed broccoli). She and I meant to have a shopping date, but a trip to the Museum of Natural History ran long, so we could only squeeze in dinner.

Outback’s restroom was stereotypically chain restaurant-y, as far as the lighting and color scheme, but they added some Australian flair to make you feel as if you are really eating your shrimp on the barbie — or adult-style macaroo — down under. The women’s room was labeled “sheilas,” and the men’s room “blokes.” Right inside the door was a massive faux mosaic painted on the tiles of Ayer’s rock. And I’m not sure how authentically Australian this is, but it was certainly unique: the trashcan, which barely fit under the sink, making it difficult to actually throw used paper towels in it, was a wicker hamper straight out of Bed Bath and Beyond. My friend, who’d lost her voice, squeaked: “Did they make the water go down the toilet in the opposite direction?”

I can’t deny that Outback was a nice little escape from the craziness that is Manhattan: with the carpeted floor, mass-produced booths and that dull quiet murmur of conversations, interrupted now and then by the clink of glasses of silverware, it almost felt as if we were back home. And when you’ve been having too many epic Saturday nights in a row, a low-key evening at Outback is a welcome change. We’re thinking of instituting “Saturday in the Suburbs,” where we occasionally hit up the chain restaurants we would normally scoff at.

Restroom Rating: [rating=3]

Prohibition

Karaoke with a live band? Say what? I’m actually a bit intimidated by this (my best karaoke song is “Hakuna Matata”), but watching the shameless and / or courageous belt their hearts out to good music at Prohibition on the Upper West Side is a great way to spend an evening — plus it’s just a few stops from my apartment.

Prohibition wants you to believe it’s a forbidden speakeasy, so it’s got metal, prison-like bars in the upper level and Roaring Twenties artwork throughout. It’s cocktail menu is long, but the choices are more standard than funky (this is no Flatiron Lounge, even though it evokes a similar time period), but they’re each only about $11 or $12, which in Manhattan — a.k.a. the world of expensive everything — is a big plus. I’ve been hearing about the “dark and stormy” for a while, so I ordered that. Tastes like a rum and coke with a gingery twang, because uhhh, that’s essentially what it is. I’m not a rum girl, so I won’t order it again, but for what it was, it was good — and nicely priced. I think I found one of my favorite neighborhood hotspots, although it’s not quite my neighborhood. I can borrow it, right?

I loved aspects of the restrooms (there were two — one upstairs and one downstairs by the kitchen / shady coatcheck that was impossible to find…but free!), and they fit the 1920s theme well. However, the artwork used to evoke this theme didn’t match; individually, each piece of art was great, but they were not jivin’. Upstairs, the bathroom door and surrounding wall were covered with an incredible mural of dapper gentlemen smoking cigarettes and drinking moonshine. Downstairs, the men’s and women’s rooms were identified by caricature-style paintings of a man and woman from the flapper era. Inside the ladies’ room, black-and-white vintage photos of women, lackadaisically reclining on chaises longues and  dressed in the height of 1920s fashion: long, unstructured silk dresses and pearls. But none of this stuff matched. It was like a kid’s bedroom full of mismatched movie posters, stuffed animals and T-ball — each item was part of a clear story, but not a consistent story, carefully plotted out story. I guess when it comes to public bathrooms, I like an interior decorator’s touch…or graffiti, which is the opposite extreme. The middle ground doesn’t work so well for me.

Restroom Rating: [rating=3]

American Museum of Natural History

It’s funny how much restrooms at large public establishments differ compared to restrooms at small locales — sure, a museum needs to provide a much bigger bathroom (or bathrooms) than does a restaurant that can get away with a couple of onesies, but you’d think that, ordinarily, the money coming into these significantly larger venues would be proportionate, and therefore they could afford to invest at an equal rate in their bathrooms to make them more than antiseptic, stainless-steel boxes. But no.

I will, however, give the American Museum of Natural History a couple of props: first, the sinks were arranged around a convex semi-circle rather than a straight line; second, the mulberry-colored soap (mulberry-colored soap?!) came out of these funky pod-like dispensers, which very well may become the next big fad in public restroom accoutrements, as did those space-age hand dryers where you dip your hands DOWN instead of holding them under the blast of hot air. (For the record, I hate those things — I’m a diehard fan of Xcelerators; yes, I have opinions about hand dryers.)

It was also clever that the toilet flush valves told you how much less water they used than ordinary flushers. As the daughter of a plumber, I am used to people getting excited about top-of-the-line toilets and septic system safe toilet paper — my family was environmentally friendly, as far as our sewage was concerned, long before it was hip.

As far as the museum itself, this was my second trip, and I really enjoyed it. I’ve gone both times with kids under the age of 7, so there hasn’t been much time to absorb all of the information posted by the exhibits. We stumbled upon the Hall of Asian Peoples, which was incredibly fascinating — I didn’t know there was more than animals, and I look forward to going back to explore the halls of all the different cultures from around the world. And maybe I’ll follow it up again with a trip to Shake Shack, which is just around the corner; I need to check out the restroom there…and maybe eat a burger, yeah?

Restroom Rating: [rating=2]

Melba’s

I’ve never been a huge fan of southern food since being introduced to it when my college dining hall had weekly “soul food day” on Mondays — it’s often too greasy and heavy for my taste — but I do love grits, collard greens, macaroni and cheese, and a sweet potato every now and again. Harlem is pretty famous for its soul food, but I’m really not into it, except Melba’s, which is a like hip soul food. There’s crazy artwork on the walls, huge hanging lamps, and the whole restaurant has a dark, trendy vibe.

The bathroom naturally follows suit, with black-and-white tiles, an industrial-looking sink (because, you know, that’s “cool”) and a candle above the sink. I must admit that I have not actually ever used Melba’s restroom, despite having been there four times. It’s close enough to where I live that I never have to go (is that too much information?), but on my most recent trip, I figured I should snap some photos for the sake of the Porcelain Press.

Melba’s really is a delightful little gem, and I’m glad that Lady R introduced me to it last year. Their mac&cheese is one of my favorites (although they regrettably don’t serve it at brunch!); it’s a little zingy (zingy?!) like Cheez-Its, but it is sadly looooaded with butter that I ended up dumping out of the dish. And although I prefer the Amish version of chicken and waffles (roasted chicken and gravy, as opposed to fried chicken and syrup), Melba’s has the most delightful eggnog waffles and strawberry butter I’ve ever tasted. Just ask my friends: after I ate my salmon croquettes, which were admittedly small, I took waffle offerings, because they didn’t have the ginormous appetite that apparently I do.

Restroom Rating: [rating=4]

Cafetasia

I went to Cafetasia on University Place first time for my 24th birthday, before heading to Sixth Ward. Turns out there are two locations, and when we were looking for a Saturday night dinner place in the East Village that had options suitable for K’s current diet, we discovered there was a second location (amusingly, right on top the bar where we planned to meet friends later — but it took us awhile to figure that out). It was the perfect choice: the Thai food is good and cheap, the wine is $4 a glass, and this location wasn’t busy, so we didn’t feel rushed. A good thing, too, because somehow we ended up being at dinner for two hours.

I didn’t remember the restroom at the University Place Cafetasia, but I remembered the whole place having a funky, modern vibe, so I figured the Avenue A location would probably have something good going on in the bathroom department. The “onesie” had a black door that had a “unisex” chalk drawing showing male and female stick figures. (Art on the exterior door is one of my favorite things — it easily compensates for an otherwise mediocre or even bad bathroom.) Inside, the sink cabinet was made of sleek, grainy oak (think Ikea), and the floor had detailed tile that was black, ivory and green. Interestingly, Cafetasia is the first place where I’ve seen the same oddly shaped toilet that’s at Le Cirque, complete with a weird button above the toilet for flushing. Thanks to my experience at Le Cirque, however, I was not confused about how to flush this toilet. At any rate, Cafetasia is rolling with some good company, even if there entrees cost the price of two bites at Le Cirque.

Cafetasia really is a gem, especially the less crowded one on Avenue A. I need to make this a more frequent occurrence.

Restroom Rating: [rating=4]

Rapture

There’s nothing quite like a night that starts at 6:30 p.m., ends at 6:00 a.m. (setting the clocks ahead helped a little with that), and involves so many venues that you lose count. On one of these so-called “epic nights” in Astoria (who knew epic could happen in Queens, but it’s a Greek neighborhood, and the ancient Greeks did like their Homeric epics…), we ended up at Rapture, a lounge-y place that seemed as if it really wanted to be in Manhattan. There were couches galore, like something out of “Sex and the City,” which was great until my friend said, “I feel like this is how you get bedbugs” (please note that his comment had nothing to do with Rapture’s cleanliness, and everything to do with the sad fact that, in New York City, bedbug infestations have become as epic as my night in Astoria).

The restroom was craaaaaazy. Outside the two “onesies” there was this cave-like, candlelit shrine; there weren’t any religious icons, but the drippy wax, eerie flickering light and random arrangement of the candles made it seem as if someone would be showing up soon to drop off a sacrificial offering to the goddess of the underworld. And the bathroom itself? Oh my goodness — I actually had to censor the photo of the wall before I could post it (my mother reads this). Each restroom was red and had an enormous black-outlined painting of a naked she-devil, ample bosoms fully on display.

Rapture’s sangria is sticky-sweet and tastes like it was made out of Juicy Juice (thus why it’s only $30 for two pitchers), but it’s worth a visit to see the bathroom if you’re ever in Astoria — and you should be at least once to check out the beer garden.

Restroom Rating: [rating=4]