I've pretty much said all I need to say about the disembowling of the Cedar Tavern. Earlier in the week, I walked by the site, and the door on the front, wooden edifice was open. The picture below is what the interior of the Cedar Tavern looks like now. Shortly before I took this picture (with my crappy cellphone), my nextdoor neighbor leant me a copy of the book, "Dry" by Augusten Burroughs (you might know him as the author of "Running With Scissors"). In any event, "Dry" takes place in this neighborhood, and a passage early in the proceedings captures the essence of my favorite bar far better than any conceivable photograph. Take it away, Augusten....
A few hours later, I walk into Cedar Tavern and feel immediately at ease. There's a huge old bar to my right, carved by hand a century ago from several ancient oak trees. It's like this great big middle finger aimed at nature conservationists. Behind the bar, the wall is paneled in this same wood, inlaid with tall etched mirrors. Next to the mirrors are dull brass light fixtures with stained-glass shades. No bulb in the place is above twenty-five watts. In the rear, there are nice tall wooden booths and oil paintings of English bird dogs and anonymous grandfathers posed in burgundy leather wing chairs. They serve a kind of food here: chicken-fried steak, fish and chips, cheeseburgers and a very lame salad that features iceberg lettuce and croutons from a box. I could live here. As if I didn't already.
That was then. This is now. 
Recent Comments