Gettin' piggy: Five editors hit up the new Bourgeois Pig
(Credit: Jori Klein )
Backstory: In its previous incarnation, the Bourgeois Pig was a postage-stamp-sized bar front in the East Village known for half-price wine nights and bubbling fondue—an obvious go-to date spot. As word spread and table waits increased, owner Ravi DeRossi, realizing he needed to expand, found space across the street at the old Heatherette design studio.
“There are so many wine bars around, but they’re all just the same and kind of boring,” DeRossi told us last month. Boring…this ‘aint. — Matt Rodbard
Atmosphere: The old Bourgeois Pig was a default make-out joint; its red lighting, cramped (er, “intimate”) interior and soft jazz soundtrack—mixed with a solid, inexpensive wine selection—made for a sure thing on date night. Yeah, the whole thing came off a little cheesy (insert unfunny fondue joke here), but the place had character. Pig 2.0 still evokes a bordello, thanks to the red-lined interior, plush chairs, rococo-style ceilings and excessive candlelight, but the place has developed an attitude that’s Bourbon Street boisterous: The music’s a little louder, the crowd a lot bigger, and unlike the old BP, you’ll definitely get a seat. — Kirk Miller
Food: No pigging out at this Pig: Cheese and fondue are the main draw, and of the several plates and servings we sampled, none delivered the kind of punch that lived up to the space’s sultry vibe. A savory fondue of raclette with cinnamon, nutmeg and garlic was served at a lukewarm temperature, imbuing the cheese with a soppy consistency that didn’t do much to elevate the soggy potatoes and supermarket-party-plate broccoli (yes, they were that sad) that were provided for dipping. In fact, we noticed that the same dipping vittles came with the five-cheese plate, which made everything seem interchangeable and, ultimately, forgettable. A sweet fondue of dark chocolate and cayenne pepper did stir some curiosity and provided an intriguing kick, but predictable accoutrements—strawberries, bananas, uninspired brownies—and the lack of side plates dimmed whatever spark it could muster. — Alexis L. Loinaz
Drinks: Those seeking martinis and vodka tonics need not apply, as it's beer, wine and champagne on tap here—either on their own or blended into house cocktails. Some were dull, like the Shandygaff, a too-sweet beer cocktail with gingerbeer, lime and La Chouffe, and the Bourgeois Royale, with strawberry reduction and champagne. The wine cocktails walked a more inventive line, especially in the case of the Dover Club, concocted with Pinot Noir, muddled raspberries, orange juice, raspberry preserves, egg whites and bitters. The drink looked and tasted like frothy pudding or a watery smoothie, and though it was sort of refreshing, it was non-cocktail-like—"I’m not sure a drink should remind me of Jamba Juice," Kirk quipped. More arresting choices were sophisticated spins on sangria and a multi-priced wine list, with a surprisngly decent $5 glass of 2005 Jaboulet Syrah. — Perrie Samotin
Service: Although nice and semi-attentive, our youngish, pretty boy waiter flunked the “what’s on my plate” test. And trust us: The menu here doesn’t require a culinary degree. But when you’re unable to identify the cheeses on a cheese plate—at a place that serves mainly fondues—a Cheese 101 course might be needed. Oddly enough, the one person confident in “the lay of the land” was the bus boy. As soon as we snapped our digital camera, he came running over to maintain order.
Bus boy: No flash photography
Editor: Why?
Bus boy: House policy
Editor: Why?
Bus boy: House policy
Editor: Why?
[Exit bus boy]
Who knows, perhaps George Clooney’s a regular here. — Jessie Pascoe
Off the menu...
What we talked about:
The old Bourgeois Pig (Kirk had some strong opinions)
The waiter's name (we tried guessing)
Ready-made crudité platters from The Price Club
Steve Aoki
Grabbing burgers afterwards...
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