Sunday, October 10th, 2010—Bar 273

Day 273—Saturday, October 9th, 2010
Circa Tabac (Originally headed for The Broome Street Bar)
Okay, it’s Cheeseburger Saturday Night and through a Google search I found a bar that sounds like it has a great bacon cheeseburger. The bar is The Broome Street Bar and it looks like a classic, old-school joint that’s been on the block since the ‘70s. Let’s go check it out, I’m jonesing for a cheeseburger!

Here we are at the Broome Street Bar, smack-dab in the middle of Soho.

Uh, oh, looks like a lot of other people had the same idea. There's not a seat at the bar. Time to improvise.

Luckily, I remembered another bar that I've been meaning to go to and it's just a couple blocks away. In fact through the magic of the internet, here are at Circa Tabac. And what does that say? Smoking Lounge?

Yes, that's right, smoking is permitted in here. Translation: Fuck you Mayor Bloomberg!

It's nice and dark inside and plenty of seats at the bar. I think we've found tonight's destination.

And as friendly bartender Damil serves up an ice cold bottle of Red Stripe, I know we've found tonight's destination!

Something I haven't seen in quite a while, an ashtray in a bar.

And there's a tree of cigarettes at the bar.

Usually I just have one or two cigarettes before I go to sleep, but what the hell. When in Rome, light up or leave me alone.

Here's a full shot of the bar.

The draft beers available.

There's a large candle-lit lounge behind the bar.

Rows of wooden, candle-lit tables line the walls. Each has its own ash tray of course.

Large bay windows give a nice view of the street outside.

A reserved banquette in the dark corner of the bar.

Cigarette art hangs on the wall above the banquette.

A classic shot of Humphrey Bogart and his ever-present cigarette.

Another view of the front bar.

And it's dinner time! Jennifer, the beautiful waitress on duty serves up a chicken sandwich with a lovely smile.

They didn't have a cheeseburger on the menu, but this chicken sandwich was just as good. The chicken is parmesan encrusted and served on a croissant with melted mozzarella cheese and a chipotle mayonnaise. I also got an order of onion rings. Delicious!

Burp.

There is one place you can't smoke in Circa Tabac, the bathroom. Which can only lead to...

The almost-forgotten, obligatory bathroom shot! Goodnight, everybody!

Review
Circa Tabac is one of the last places you can enjoy a cocktail and a cigarette in New York City. Since they sold tobacco products, they’ve been able to escape the smoking ban in bars. And if you don’t smoke, don’t worry, the air purifiers make sure that the place isn’t a den of second-hand smoke. The bar is dark and lit by dim chandeliers and candle light. The crowd is a mix of neighborhood locals and tourists amazed at seeing ash trays on every table and people using them. The music is eclectic and ranges from jazz, to hip hop, funk, pop and rock, played at a conversational level.

There’s a nice selection of bottled and draft beers, but this place is more of a cocktail bar. Some of the house cocktails include the signature Circa Tabac Cocktail which is Cognac, Grand-Marnier, Honey and Lemon Juice; a French Martini, Passion Fruit Caipirissima and a Chocolate Kiss which mixes Godiva Liqueur, Vodka, Creme de Cacao and it’s topped with a Hershey Kiss. There’s also a food menu, featuring small plates such as: pigs in a blanket, a mini rack of lamb, crab cakes and a chicken sandwich.

And there’s a large variety of cigarettes and cigars to be had here as well. Smoke if you got ‘em!

Circa Tabac
32 Watts St. (Near Sixth Ave.)
212-941-1781

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Bonus Story by Nick Tosches

Acclaimed New York writer Nick Tosches is a regular at Circa Tabac. He's the guy on the far right in this portrait that hangs in the front of the bar Here’s  what he wrote about the bar.

The Last Bar
By Nick Tosches

I know the dirty secret of why and how the no-smoking con went down. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that there’s still a joint—Circa Tabac—where I can go, set myself down, order a drink and light up. One last breath in this dying hick-town mall that used to be Manhattan. A real Bar, with real ashtrays and real people. I used to call it the last bar in New York. Now that London and even Paris have folded, I call it the last bar, period. And that’s what it is: a bar that is as bars once were, and as bars should be. The last of them. See you there, baby, see you there.

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Bonus Cartoon by Jaws

Jaws just sent me this hilarious smoking ban cartoon. Check it out!