The way I see it, three options can make New York’s dark, cold months palatable:
1. Leave town
2. Obtain a willing bedmate
3. Get incorrigibly drunk
Sadly, wallet-eating rent leaves few pennies to travel to hotter climes, and New Yorkers are more concerned with getting ahead than getting head. So alcohol is the answer. That I’m suggesting its consumption at Jadis shatters my irrational belief system.
Since I’ve been old enough to intoxicate, I’ve reviled wine bars for every cliché: They’re patronized by well-heeled yahoos, they’re staffed by the snooty and they’re prohibitively priced, too focused on pomp and refinement—two of my lesser qualities. Blah, blah, blah. But Jadis, located on a dark stretch of Lower East Side where ancient synagogues gather dust, is a sweet stereotype buster.
Like, for example, the lack of a bartender. I notice this one windy evening after parking my patootie at the bar. A sharp-cheekboned cutie exits the serving area. She swoops behind me to deposit ice water and a menu.
“Need any help?” she asks, smiling brightly beside me. It’s a friendly intimacy, a blurring of the drink-server-drinker relationship. Even so, I decline her offer: my male DNA renders me incapable of asking for—or accepting—assistance. She flits to other tables. They’re filled with an adult crowd of couples, friends and after-workers chatting affably—no B&T or 21-year-old trustafarians.
How could you do otherwise in this snug, brick-walled front room? Scalloped ceilings dip low, and candlelight heightens the romance factor. Tying a bow on this package, the wines are priced to lower inhibitions, which could enable my aforementioned reason No. 2.
More than two dozen bottles of unsung, mostly French vinters sell for less than $30, with some clocking in at $20. Glasses average $6 or $7. In an era of $12 drinks, that’s a rational price structure. I order a whistle-wetting glass of J.L. Colombo “Les Abeilles” Côtes du Rhône ($6) and nod my head to the piped-in Manu Chao and jazz. They warm my stomach and heart, while central heat takes care of my other bits.
These inexpensive liquids are joined by nibbles prepared by a nimble-knifed, newsboy-cap-wearing cook. Around me, there are plates of French cheese ($16 for a loaded cutting board, adorned with grapes and baguette rounds), steaming paninis (about $10 each), charcuterie ($7 for Serrano ham) and ethereal scoops of duck mousse ($7)—for those who fancy whipped meats.
I don’t. And neither does Jadis’ rear room. While the front area screams old-world quaint, the rear lounge offers communal tables covered by fanciful lamps. Modular leather couches form a perfect square where birthday boys and girls celebrate amid gaggles of friends. They guzzle, then puff on a smoking patio, which pushes against a housing project.
It’s a jarring contrast, a reminder that the neighborhood isn’t the Lower Eastpacking District. Yet. And it’ll remain otherwise, as long as more thoughtful, hipsterati-shunning hangouts like Jadis keep opening. Here, good service and the bottom line coexist alongside gracious waitresses, good wine and a frostbite-killing heater to keep you toasty on these coming cold nights.
Jadis
42 Rivington St. (betw. Eldridge & Forsyth Sts.)
212-254-1675
