Latest news with #Seamstress
Time Out
11-07-2025
- Business
- Time Out
This hi-low cafe and dive bar in Chelsea also houses a distillery
The front cover of Chelsea's latest bar menu reads as such, 'A mixologist, a cocktologist (their words, not mine) and a barchitect walk into a bar.' So, what do you get? Something like Hello Hello. On July 9, Hello Hello (151 W 26th Street) made its debut in Chelsea. Behind it, a trio of industry vets, Luis Hernandez, Brendan Bartley and Robert Nieves, who bring a combined talent that includes time at Bathtub Gin, the now-closed Seamstress in the Upper East Side and LIC's listening lounge Record Room. But among the team's prestigious achievements, their joined mission is a simple one: make an industry hang that brings the vibes any time of day. 'We didn't want to overcomplicate it,' says co-owner and food and beverage manager Luis Hernandez in a press release. 'This is the kind of place we'd actually want to drink at. No gimmicks. Just good music, great drinks, and the right energy from day to night.' In fact, you can say hello to Hello Hello at any time of day as the location operates as a cafe by day, and a self-billed dive bar at night. Mimicking a dreamy 70s lounge, the wood-paneled interior with its high top tables seem ready for a quiet work day or midday hang over freshly brewed Guava & Olive Oil Lattes and pastries sourced from Colson Patisserie. But as the evening slides into night, the red-lipped neon logo on the wall glows even brighter, making the tan leather couches and the wooden DJ stand that spins vinyl even more enticing. But the barroom hides a secret in plain sight. Just beyond the booth through a glass window, you can see the profile of copper still. And just like that, you've found the bar's distillery. Yes, the third element to this bar and cafe is a full blown distillery. The two-floor operation is leftover from Pernod Ricard's small-batch vodka distillery, the first to open in New York after the Prohibition era. Together, Bartley, master distiller Sammer Aboelela and operations consultant Dave Oz, founder of Bathtub Gin, man the venture. For their first act, the crew went through nearly one hundred iterations to make batches of coffee liqueur. Incorporated throughout the menu, you can find their housemade liqueur in the all-day Espresso Martini and the French Carajillo. Once operations are at full speed, the distillery will soon be able to sell its liquors and others straight from the bar. This care for cocktails and spirits continues throughout the menu, which is presented as a retro-style magazine. The Red Bull Vodka got the makeover we didn't know they needed, as the fizzy draft cocktail is clarified with cucumber and green apple juice. Wine caps out at $14, cocktails at $18 and there's even a Champagne program. The back side of the magazine, er, menu, includes hi-brow bar bites likes Chopped Cheese Popcorn and Pickles by the spear. But there's a special section dedicated to the almighty the hot dog. Clearly passionate about New York's favorite snack, Hernandez created his own version of 'dirty hot dog water," made with a blend of Shaoxing red wine, maple syrup, carrots and apple. You can find dogs toppled with crumbled chips and homemade sauerkraut and a chopped Italian sub version that Hernandez taste-tested seven types of pepperoni to get just right. But the piece de resistance goes to the number 2 dog. Crowned with zippy pineapple slices fermented in a punchy kimchi, this hot dog is finished with jalapeño relish and crispy shallots for extra crunch.
Condé Nast Traveler
17-05-2025
- General
- Condé Nast Traveler
In the Bavarian Alps, Waltzing My Way Into Family History
Her life had been hard. She had lost so much: her mother to cholera, a brother stolen by the Russian army when soldiers invaded in what was then Austro-Hungary during World War I. When she was 18, her father sent her alone to a brother in America and she never saw any of her relatives again—most were murdered in the Holocaust, except her youngest brother who escaped to Palestine as a teenager. She met and married my grandfather, a Russian refugee, and they owned a laundry. He washed the clothes and she did the mending and ironing. By the time she and I ended up as roommates, Grandma, now in her seventies, had lived a life she'd never expected as a child. To cheer herself up, she liked to talk about her youth—climbing a cherry tree in her white graduation dress because she just had to have this one gorgeous cherry, ripping the dress her mother had hand-sewn for her on the way down. She sounded so high-spirited to me; her life seemed so magical before the wars swept her whole world away. She was educated, too, which was unusual for a girl in those times, and a Jewish one at that. She could read and write in seven languages. She was an expert seamstress and embroiderer, and she took dance lessons, which she loved. I was a dancer, too! Not social dancing, like her, but ballet and modern. As I read my book, I fantasized about the parties she must have attended at school. The muscle memory was still encoded in her body. She had rhythm and grace. Her grief and loss had not stolen this from her. Now, she was heavy-set, you could even say lumbering. But when I asked my question, she got up and began to slowly demonstrate by circling around my bedroom. One-two-three, one-two-three…her arms orbiting a phantom partner. I laughed when I saw her—she wasn't exactly an active senior, and she had neither a bra nor girdle on under her house dress. But then I recognized she could really move. The muscle memory was still encoded in her body. She had rhythm and grace. Her grief and loss had not stolen this from her. 'Pussycat,' she said, 'Come try.' I walked over and she put her arms around my waist and shoulder and began to hum, some waltz-y type music from her memory that I didn't know, as she spun me around our bedroom. We were both so happy. I have continued to dance ever since, taking ballet and jazz classes well into my forties and since then barre class every day and a lot of yoga. Dance has sustained me my entire life. But before we'd met Erik, that brief lesson from my grandmother was the only moment that I'd ever truly experienced ballroom dancing. Schloss Elmau was one of the first wellness destinations to offer dance retreats alongside more traditional spa activities. The dance intensives are designed to make guests of all ages feel comfortable—and find joy in movement. Now, I am going to be twirled again. Eric first puts on 'The Blue Danube' by Johann Strauss and then 'The Second Waltz by Dmitri Shostakovich'. He tells us to hold each other and move naturally, so Bruce and I sway side-to-side. He teaches us a two-step first and then the box step. Fun, but not what we'd come for. 'I want to swirl her around the room,' Bruce had said, when Erik had originally asked us for our goals. We keep knocking into one another. We laugh at our own clumsiness, and Erik laughs too. He is so glad that we are enjoying ourselves. Erik teaches us 'the lady turn,' where Bruce spins me under his arm, and then we two-step away from each other and he spins me back to him. Maybe it is the altitude, maybe it is the romance of it all, but by the time Eric puts on Elvis Presley's 'Can't Help Falling In Love With You'—also in ¾ time!—we are both breathless. And we are waltzing.
