Bar Boulud

1900 Broadway at 64th St, Upper West Side

The Place: A really nice French restaurant that I have no business being at.
The Time: Thursday March 31 at 6:30pm. I wanted to grab a quick drink and bite before meeting the boyfriend at the opera (fansay), and the bar I intended on going to was so crowded with old white couples that I couldn’t even get in the door. There’s a strip of restaurants on Broadway across from Lincoln Center, and they're all filled to the brim. Bar Boulud is the only one with any seats available, and considering I want to eat, that seems necessary.
The Vibe: There isn’t a bar to actually sit at so the hostess seats me at the hightop communal table after a curt and apologetic “just you?” To which I responded proudly “just me!” Pre-theater on a weekday on the Upper West Side means there will only be old white couples in the place with you, just a heads up. The other people at the communal table are, you guessed it, an old white couple. They are drinking espresso, and the male in the equation loudly calls out “check!” to no one in particular three separate times. I’m pretty sure I'm the youngest in here by at least 30 years.
The Bartender: I don’t think there were any? It looks like they made drinks in this little alcove behind the cured meat display. No clue who makes the drinks. Total mystery. I also realize halfway through my time here that I'm sitting next to the meat slicer. Ain’t life grand?
The Drank: Literally the cheapest thing on the menu, a glass of rose at $11. It is very nice but all rose is nice. I also spend a long time staring at the food menu – everything seems to be a form of cured ham or a $22 beet salad. I finally order a side of spinach (sautéed) and a side of mushrooms (fricasseed). I’m really glad I didn’t pay for the opera tickets because this meal of wine and veg almost costs me the price of one. But the veggies are indeed delish, and they give me a plethora of free bread so I'm cool with it.
Was I Hit On? No thank god cuz that would be creepy. But the server and bussers are the nicest guys ever – constantly refilling my water, giving me more free bread when I eat all of my allotted free bread, politely asking how my night is going then walking away. If only all men could be this attentive to a woman’s needs.
Should You Drink Here Alone? Sure, if you’re in the neighborhood, have money to burn and want to be treated like a queen.