Ten Bells and Six Glasses

Last night, a good friend took me out for belated birthday wine. She told me to meet her at Ten Bells, a little wine bar tucked somewhere between Chinatown and the Lower East Side.

I walked up and down Broome St. a few times looking for the elusive 247 Broome, and nothing. My third time around, I noticed a small entry into an old, perfect, oh-so-New-York building.



Once inside, I took a seat with my friend--another friend tending to us from behind the bar. The lighting was nothing more than a warm glow, accentuating the rich textures of the tiles on the ceiling and walls.


Even on a Tuesday, it's fairly full, but the noise level is just low enough to sustain conversation. And every staff member greets you with a kiss on each cheek. There's no denying you're in New York, but everyone here is from France. Except Jose.

Let's put aside the comprehensive selection of organic wine--that's definitely an integral component of the wine bar, but it's not the main thing. Let's put aside the fact that you can get a great glass of wine for just $5. And the fact that the tapas and cheese selection is praised by big chefs around the city. These are all huge draws, but I found something here that I've never found at a bar before: a sense of family.

It's that whole knowing-every-customer-by-first-name thing, and a group of regulars has obviously formed because of it. But even the new faces are treated like old friends--it's the friendliest service I've ever seen at a bar. And let's not lie, when it results in a couple of free glasses of Gruner, I'm especially excited about it.

NYMag, please forgive me for not having a camera last night and deferring to your beautiful pics. Thanks!