Seen the meat packers pack

Around since 1985 Florent has seen the meat packing district pack meat. The pink neon sign glowing in the huge pane of glass defines Florent as simple and unpretentious.

A Joan Allen like hostess presides over seating arrangements and glides as effortless as the movie star herself between the close knit tables. The food is good French bistro fare served American diner style in equal parts. People watching is its own past time in New York and Florent is as vibrant as you will get. Especially if you come early in the morning as the crowds from the nearby not-so-main-stream bars and clubs roll in. Everyone's checking everyone out.

Sitting along the wall looking at the pressed tin over the bar I want to believe that in the pre-Guiliani years, Florent was a hedonist's hangout. Only visited by those in the know and a clientele willing to risk the trip west into a dimly lit, smelly, seedy, cobblestone district. Perhaps I got glipse of the of what this might have been like after the Gay Pride parade last year. Drag queens swilling beer on the sidewalk. Gay men and lesbians in leather outfits best described as costumes. Sweaty Chelsea boys in hot pants and tank tops. And of course the requesite number of trendy straight wanna be's perched on bar stools trying to recognize faces in the crowd while waiting for tables.

If you go, don't go without trying...

Almost everything is good. Joe swears by the mussels, even after reading Bourdain's warning in Kitchen Confidential. For me, the Nicoise is one of the better ones in the city. It's served with a decent peice of gently grilled tuna lying on the lightly dressed greens. The burgers aren't bad either.

Posted by dvenuto at July 06, 2002 02:07 AM