The Sunburnt Cow

A bar with no name. Its the sort of thing you see in the movies or read about in books but you never imagine yourself in one of these joints. It had actually happened to me once before in London, when one night crawling around Soho looking for a place to get a drink at 3am we were invited into a building that you would never imagine was a bar and would never be able to find again even if someone gave you a map! That night we wound up in a cool jazz club, tonight was different.

I'd met up with Kathryn and Rachel again as planned and shared a few drinks down in the East Village before they decided to take me on a little trip to Alphabet City. Once one of New York's most dangerous areas (and still is east of D according to the girls) the area has transformed itself into a trendy bar area, vibrant and full of odd characters, haunting and mesmerizing all at the same time.

We wound up at a bar somewhere around 9th and C, no name was apparent anywhere outside or in although it was hardly hidden in the depths. On our arrival we were greeted with a free shot, served rather bizarrely from a babies bottle. For a moment we all stood there in amazement, wondering if what we were seeing was indeed real. Rachel, getting a sneaky look on her face proceeded to call the barman over. "My friend here, he's from London and he needs a story for when he gets home, can he drink from the bottle?"

Moments later, unbelievably, the barman was filling up one of these bottles (we noticed several in the fridge) with whatever shot type mixture it was, proceeded to put a hole in the top and chucked it down the bar at me. How could I say no?!



It was cool to sit there, relaxing and chatting after a hard days sightseeing. I'd wanted to get to the Met but they were closed so I ended up at the Moma, any attempt to avoid the pouring rain really. New York's Museum of Modern Art is exactly what it says. If you don't like the ultra modern stuff then there really isn't a lot here for you. I think Van Goghs's "Starry Night" was about the only thing in there actually worth a mention. For the excessive $20 entrance I was more than just a little disappointed.

I'd gone on from there to catch up on another of those things I didn't get round to doing first time here; Strawberry Fields. I'd made a brief appearance at Central Park back in 2003 but hadn't delved into it at all. This time round I made sure to go for a good walk around, making the most of the drier state of affairs that the afternoon had become. At the Lennon memorial, the light strumming of a guitar coupled with the steady rustle of people coming up to pay their respects gave the place an ambiance kept for only a given few. I could have sat there all day, just drifting in an out of thought.


The busy day was now far behind as the beers rolled by one after another, interspersed with a blast on the babies bottle. During the course of the evening we had been noticing a rather Bobine theme to the place and eventually had to ask what it was all about. According to the barman, the place is actually called the Sunburnt Cow after an incident involving the owner and his 4 legged friend. I guess sucking on the teat made a little more sense now (not much, just a little).

The evening was finished off in style at the chippy. No ordinary chippy though. More gourmet chips. A choice of over 100 sauces could accompany your potato chunks in several different way. My layered curry chips hit the spot perfectly! New York's not all about Pizza and Pastrami you know!