Felix: Where Eurotrash Comes to Roost
The first time I went to Felix, it was around 3pm on a Saturday afternoon. Me, my boyfriend John and my friend Mike had a yen for a snack and an afternoon cocktail. Cruising down West Broadway, we encoutered Felix on the corner of Grand. It seemed to have everything we wanted: French bistro fare, summery cocktails (hellooooo Caipirhinas), and soccer on the small Cathode ray tube television above the bar.
What we didn’t realize, upon sitting down at a supremely well-placed window table that opened up on to the sidewalk, was that we had stumbled into a main New York Eurotrash hive. Soon enough, the place was buzzing with well-dressed Italian Queen Bees, greasy-looking men in jeans so tight that they must have suffered some sort of loss of breath, and gaggles of ‘boho-chic’ girls chain-smoking Marlboro Lights. Within an hour of enjoying our afternoon refresher, the cheesy disco-house music blend started up and too-cool-for-school Euros were yelling at the tiny TV in Frussian, a unique blend of French and Russian, proving, in various innovative fashions, that it is in fact a LIE that Europeans can hold their liquor better than Amreicans. Needless to say, the crowd lended an unintentionally boistrous and goofy feeling to the entire experience, as long as you kept your very American distance.
I suppose I should comment on the food, as this is a restaurant. It is good. As so many of my other blog posts say, it is very ‘typical French.’ Classic steak tartare with a raw quail’s egg perched in the center, lamb ragout, salty pomme frites, roasted chicken, rich french onion soup with melted cheese, a french-focused cheese plate, l’escargots, delicious little croquettes with mashed potatoes, prosciutto and cheese, coq au vin, and pan-fried steak. The food isn’t fancy or complicated, it isn’t fit for gourmands, and it certainly doesn’t deserve a spot amongst the best French restaurants in New York; yet, it serves its purpose – fills the belly well, tastes good, and works as a wonderful antidote to the potent cocktails brewed by a the busy Brazilian barmaster.
Feeling in need of reliably trashy Eurotrash? Felix is your place, whether for gawking or partaking. Expect some judgemental stares from skinny women in couture garbage bags, but I recommend just tucking into the spicy steak tartare and mango mojitos, taking it all in with a big toothy American grin.