The Half Pint

The kitchen crew at The Half Pint at 76 West Third Street are on top of their game. I feel rather grateful to them actually because the menu at The Half Pint is standard bar fare and most establishments screw it up. At most places, their plates of buffalo wings or sliders are shadows of what the dishes really should taste like, but we all suffer through the mess because when you're at a bar with a bottle of cold beer and a big tv screen, the occassion calls for bar food.


Just because there are thirty bars within a five block radius doesn't mean that your guests have to put up with some slop. These buffalo wings were great. There was a lot of meat on the wings, and it was juicy. The hot sauce was good, and the skin still had a bit of crisp underneat the sauce.

These sliders were decent too. The patties had shrunk a bit too much for my preference, but the meat wasn't dried out, and the buns were soft.

I always order calamari, even though it blows at most places. These had a light corneal batter.

All in all, J and I had a nice late night dinner. The Half Pint was where we watched the diving competition during the Olympics. This is also where we confirmed that our gay-dar is horribly horribly broken. Mine has always been in a nonoperative state, but J believes that once she had the power.

Back in the summer, we convinced ourselves that Matthew Mitcham was the only straight diver. Turns out he was the only openly gay medal winner at the Beijing Olympics.

Gay-dar. Broken. Check.