Monday, May 19, 2008
Black Rabbit is dark as the nighttime sky, soft as a warm, downy blanket, tasty as a fresh mountain cottontail, smothered in mustard sauce... Never mind. Black Rabbit serves no rabbits, only rarebit. Fitting, I say, for a pub-affecting establishment that likes its Guinness, cheese plates and house drinks with rye. Its English proprietor bolsters that old-timey country inn feel with low lights, dark wooden tables and an all-over red-and-black color theme. And not to be pigeonholed as unnecessarily refined, Black Rabbit also serves Miller Lite. And I can deal with it: Tasteful, comfortable, generous with the peanut bowls and occasional free drinks. And despite the fact that it's so elegant, it humbly makes an effort to blend it with its sometimes terribly ugly surroundings. Meaning that, from a distance, it doesn't stand out so much from the nearby apartment blocks, onetime factories and horrible Polish restaurant across the street.
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Photo:
Courtesy of Brooklyn Paper
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