Guests of the Crosby Hotel—the chichi lodging that houses this giant, colorful lounge—will have to venture farther than the lobby to get a quality drink. Sloppy (and at $18, offensively priced) cocktails include the Slow Recovery—an overwrought and prohibitively sugary blend of bourbon, sherry, Bénédictine, almond syrup and lime and coffee oils (the latter ingredient was undetectable). A Rob Roy (Scotch, sweet vermouth, Peychaud’s bitters) was so watery, it might as well have been fruit punch. Hateful service compounded the experience—when presenting us with our bar snacks (rubber-band calamari, congealed pork belly), our put-upon waitress refused to supply forks, nodding instead to a pile of toothpicks. She returned later to drop the check before it was requested, and managed to squeak out a “cheers” while barely containing an eye roll. We toasted to never having to come back.
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