There had to be a story there.Īnd there is, but not the one you'd might expect. They'd been on the bar menu since the place opened, and they never budged. But every time I walked in, my brain snagged on those sardines. Dinners there were brightly lit but festive, and whole sunny Sunday afternoons could float by in the wake of their justifiably famous Bloody Marys. When I lived in New York, quirky little Prune was a favorite restaurant of mine.
But wait, sardines? Canned? Served with Triscuits and mustard? Radishes with butter and sea salt, grilled lamb sausages, smoky eggplant and flatbread: just the kind of snacks you might expect, ready to be paired with a glass of Champagne or an expertly made Negroni at the tiny bar of a French-inspired, chef-owned bistro like Gabrielle Hamilton's Prune in New York City.
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