"We're going down to Chinatown to do a write-up of a restaurant." I rolled over on my couch, certain that this was one task my staff was going to be completing sans my hands-on approach. "Are you down?" It was an interesting question and I contemplated it thoroughly, if not somewhat hastily, before I replied: "Sure. I'm leaving now."
I roused myself, threw on some clothes, and walked out the door with The Dark Knight (my fixie). I had my Canon in my Chrome pack to do some shooting, as the prescription head rush was making me feel very creative.
I mounted my steel steed and rode down Third Avenue until it became Bowery, where I cut through Little Italy and finally ended up in Chinatown, on the corner of Bayard and Mulberry. Much to my chagrin, the address that James had rattled off as we exchanged obligatory, monosyllabic pleasantries as we hung up proved to be non-existent. Lovely.
I rode around the neighborhood until I located what I perceived to be the right restaurant. Bayard 69. This deduction was made because, at this point, it was after midnight and the rest of the street was void of all activity. The front of the restaurant, however, was a completely different story. As I sat and waited for my minions to catch up, people spilled in and out of the restaurant, picking up take-out, placing orders and sitting down to wait, and other patrons being seated promptly. It was a very diverse crowd, which meshed well with the tone I thought us to be in tune with for the piece.
When James, Alex, and Roman arrived, we went inside and were warmly greeted. Roman, as it turned out, had been frequenting the spot for years and was very well-received by the wait staff who apparently have phenomenal memories, since he claimed to have no set foot in the restaurant in a very long time. He ordered for the table and we sat back to wait, our eyes adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights. I finally took notice of the walls that were completely covered with $1 bills that were taped up and written on. It was a wide range or artistic skill, imagination, and poetic rhetoric. It was apparent that the establishment has a wide array of loyal regulars: hipsters, punks, and yuppies alike undoubtedly fall victim to the addictive cuisine.
Walls covered with $1 bills
James attempts to post his dollar
Alex interviewed our waiter as thoroughly as possible, but the language barrier proved quite difficult. As far as we were able to gather, the restaurant has:
1. Been around for over fifty years
2. Been in the same location for the whole time
3. Our waiter (whose name I didn't catch) has been there since the beginning
4. The neighborhood hasn't changed at all since they opened
5. It's a fun-loving restaurant where people from all walks of life come into the early hours of the morning and enjoy some of the most unique Chinese food that I have ever had the pleasure of eating. The chicken covered with rice and egg is absolutely fabulous.
Rice and egg over chicken
As we paid our tab and left, the next group came in and replaced us and one thing became certain: love the food or leave it, Bayard 69 has been there for over fifty years and has no plans on going anywhere. It's a permanent fixture of the neighborhood and, in a city that is constantly throwing out the old and bringing in the new, it's refreshing to know that there's at least one place where New Yorkers can go and feel like the gritty, old New York of the 70s and 80s is right outside the smudged glass door.
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