I thought I would move out of the .2-mile radius of my apartment today (trust me, we’ll be back).
Between late March and May of 2012, we were at Garage Bar almost every weekend. Around this time, someone bought their groceries in North Carolina with my credit card, and I had to verify transactions with the bank. It went something like this:
“$48 at Garage Bar?”
“26.50 at Garage Bar?”
“Another transaction at Garage Bar?”
“Yes, I really like it.”
We started spacing our visits soon after, but Garage Bar is always a solid choice for a meal or a drink. We’ve had special occasions there — our one wedding planning dinner, our post-wedding ceremony champagne, birthday drinks, Oaks drinks. We’ve had just as many casual evenings and afternoons at Garage, reading the paper at the bar and playing ping-pong over beers.
I love their food. The pizza, beet salad, pickled vegetables, turkey wings, the bialy at brunch, the ham bar (which I have yet to try) — it’s all good. It’s equally difficult to go wrong with the cocktails. That one little corner of the beverage menu offers so much happiness. The District 8, the Basil Gimlet, the High Heat, the Ginger Shandy (with bourbon)… delicious Instagram fodder. I don't know if it’s the bar set-up or the pretty drinks, but I get asked what I’m drinking at Garage Bar more than anywhere else in town.
Garage Bar, I love everything about you. Your picnic tables, the Astro-turf pods, the weird “public school” chairs inside, the cars slowly crushing each other on the corner (those are really coming along). I will miss you.