This photo is a little blurry. So are some of my recent memories of this local pub.
My older memories are just old.
We are now deep into fall. For cyclists, this is the purgatory of long cold riders between the relative heaven of warm early fall rides and the hell of spinning indoors during the winter. For me, it has also traditionally been the time of year where I let my near-sober summer diet slide. As such, I've been drinking quite a bit more than usual (like a beer every other Friday, rather than once every other month, as I do in-season). All of that drinking has got me reflecting on some the places I like to drink back in Brooklyn, and that in turn got me thinking about a restaurant I liked as a kid, and then had fun drinking in as an adult. So here it is:
Although Cousins was never a family staple, it was always one of my favorites. When I was a kid it was the kind of place where my Dad, brother and I would have to drag my Mom. Of course, I never really understood why she didn't like it, but in later reflections, it seems pretty clear. In those days, before smoking was banned in restaurants and bars, Cousins was a smoky hole in the wall full of regular bar flies and sports fans, who watched numerous games on the bar's 16 televisions.
As a kid, it was a treat to go there because Cousin's served one of my favorite foods, French onion soup, toped with a generous layer of cheese baked onto the clay crock pot. Oh man was that a tasty treat.
When we were older, and some event called for a celebration, like a school play, choral concert or perhaps one of Eric's sporting events, we might slide into Cousins on our way home from Packer. No matter how many times we ate there, I always ordered the same thing off of the pub's somewhat simple but perfect menu: French onion soup and a grilled chicken sandwich. The latter was served with a spicy honey mustard that would leave my mouth stinging for days, a stinging that could only be soothed by sweet ketchup slathered onto Cousin's French fries.
As all things, I didn't find my too Cousin's much while I was away at college. Then Mom gave me the news that the restaurant was changing hands. Of course, it was sad to think that another neighborhood icon was going way, probably, I thought, to be replaced by yet another Thai restaurant or some such thing, but it was of ancillary importance to me while I was away at school.
Then I moved back home after graduating Skidmore, and discovered that Cousin's might have changed hands, but it was certainly not the disaster I'd assumed it would be. It never once entered my mind that new owners might improve the bar, but they did.
Now it was called the Downtown Bar and Grill. Cheesy name aside, there was genius in the new owner's business plan. Gone were the signs advertising the weekend's Big Game (though, the sixteen televisions remained), in their place were signs reading: "500 Types of Beer in Stock!!"
After weeks of walking by and not going in, while I was at home this summer, I finally got the chance to check it out when Dante stopped off in Brooklyn on his way home from New Zealand in July. We went in for pint, and wound up sitting for three hours talking to the manager about the satisfaction he gets out of turning people onto new and different beers, and picking his brains on some of the best beers out there.
When we went in, we were first presented with a single sheet of paper listing the day's 15 drought options, beers imported from around the world. Then we were given a booklet as thick as a phone book, listing each of the 500 bottled beers available at the bar. Beer are listed in order of their country of manufacture, and each is given a brief description. The rest of the menu remained mostly unchanged, an the chicken sandwich tasted as good as it always had.
The funniest part was that as soon as he found that we were cyclists he guessed correctly that we both have a preference for US microbrews. Fortunately for us, he had about 85 of these available at the bar. Later in the summer (actually, it was two days later), Dante, Becky and I went back to the Downtown, this time with our friend Ciara. This time, they had the Tour de France on a couple of the 16 TVs. Lets just say, as far as I was concerned, it was a very successful new business plan.
Although Cousins was never a family staple, it was always one of my favorites. When I was a kid it was the kind of place where my Dad, brother and I would have to drag my Mom. Of course, I never really understood why she didn't like it, but in later reflections, it seems pretty clear. In those days, before smoking was banned in restaurants and bars, Cousins was a smoky hole in the wall full of regular bar flies and sports fans, who watched numerous games on the bar's 16 televisions.
As a kid, it was a treat to go there because Cousin's served one of my favorite foods, French onion soup, toped with a generous layer of cheese baked onto the clay crock pot. Oh man was that a tasty treat.
When we were older, and some event called for a celebration, like a school play, choral concert or perhaps one of Eric's sporting events, we might slide into Cousins on our way home from Packer. No matter how many times we ate there, I always ordered the same thing off of the pub's somewhat simple but perfect menu: French onion soup and a grilled chicken sandwich. The latter was served with a spicy honey mustard that would leave my mouth stinging for days, a stinging that could only be soothed by sweet ketchup slathered onto Cousin's French fries.
As all things, I didn't find my too Cousin's much while I was away at college. Then Mom gave me the news that the restaurant was changing hands. Of course, it was sad to think that another neighborhood icon was going way, probably, I thought, to be replaced by yet another Thai restaurant or some such thing, but it was of ancillary importance to me while I was away at school.
Then I moved back home after graduating Skidmore, and discovered that Cousin's might have changed hands, but it was certainly not the disaster I'd assumed it would be. It never once entered my mind that new owners might improve the bar, but they did.
Now it was called the Downtown Bar and Grill. Cheesy name aside, there was genius in the new owner's business plan. Gone were the signs advertising the weekend's Big Game (though, the sixteen televisions remained), in their place were signs reading: "500 Types of Beer in Stock!!"
After weeks of walking by and not going in, while I was at home this summer, I finally got the chance to check it out when Dante stopped off in Brooklyn on his way home from New Zealand in July. We went in for pint, and wound up sitting for three hours talking to the manager about the satisfaction he gets out of turning people onto new and different beers, and picking his brains on some of the best beers out there.
When we went in, we were first presented with a single sheet of paper listing the day's 15 drought options, beers imported from around the world. Then we were given a booklet as thick as a phone book, listing each of the 500 bottled beers available at the bar. Beer are listed in order of their country of manufacture, and each is given a brief description. The rest of the menu remained mostly unchanged, an the chicken sandwich tasted as good as it always had.
The funniest part was that as soon as he found that we were cyclists he guessed correctly that we both have a preference for US microbrews. Fortunately for us, he had about 85 of these available at the bar. Later in the summer (actually, it was two days later), Dante, Becky and I went back to the Downtown, this time with our friend Ciara. This time, they had the Tour de France on a couple of the 16 TVs. Lets just say, as far as I was concerned, it was a very successful new business plan.
1 comment:
dude, i don't think i ever went to cousin's. if you're around this break i'd be down for checking out the Downtown (otherwise, i'll just try convincing amanda to come along :)
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