After a crazy, rainy Sunday spent in the farthest reaches of Queens, I needed a shower, a blowout, some makeup, and most importantly-- Brooklyn normalcy. I also needed a glass of heavy red, real conversation, exposed brick. What we got was exactly that-- plus a fellow redheaded waiter with a fully formed elimination plan for the French (but not France), a clear opinion (our ricotta is crap, stick with the manchego) and comped glass of Quinta do Crasto Douro (yum).
You will need to forgive the good people at Woodwork for describing themselves and a 'sexy soccer bar' and just give them props for making it into New York Magazine's 'Best Of' issue within its first few months of opening. Alison and I read the entire issue aloud on the 7 train (to the ends of the earth), and noted Woodwork as the best soccer bar in NY.
Well, we don't necessarily like soccer, but we do like soccer fans and we do like new bars that we can walk to from our apartments. We also like things like reclaimed wood (from a Massachusetts dairy farm. Love that.), local produce, and $3 Red Stripe.