For discerning drinkers, finding a cocktail bar worth your time (and your cash) in New York City can be a chore at times. So it was with great interest that I recently visited Bateman’s, a tiny gem of a space on East 6th St. The name, if you haven’t already guessed, is a wink and a nod to the protagonist of Bret Easton Ellis’s novel American Psycho (the 1991 novel turned 2000 film starring Christian Bale), which gleefully combines the runaway consumerism of the 80s with elitist Wall Street culture, sprinkled with a generous dash of psychosis.
I was originally drawn to this petite lounge because of its recent award of two PINS in the prestigious Pinnacle Guide, a bar-rating system similar to the Michelin Guide. As the only bar in Manhattan to achieve this, I was interested in seeing how Bateman’s stacked up. But also, as a Gen X’er, I admit to being enticed by the theme.
The idea is strangely conceptual, as referenced on the bar’s website: “What if your two least pretentious friends decided to open Dorsia?” Yeah, what if? Owners Carlo Olcese and Natasha Van Duser, the husband-and-wife team who consistently welcome their customers in like drinking buddies, wanted to serve creative, perfectly crafted cocktails with a dollop of dive. In fact, according to the Pinnacle Guide, every bartender must have experience working in a dive bar, alongside their mixology knowledge. The guide also calls out finer details like the house-made clear ice cubes, each stamped with either a “B” for hued drinks or a cute little cocktail logo for anything clear so you can see it through the glass. Patrick would approve.
I invited my colleague (and fellow The Manual writer) Johnny Motley to accompany me for a few cocktails and snacks, and though we were offered a table, we decided to belly up to the bar. This turned out to be an excellent choice because every occupier of a stool automatically gets a free small pour. We received a charming, dry, white vermouth, which we sipped while perusing the menu, which is split into three sections: Original Creations, Fan Favorites, and Seasonal.
I won’t bore you with every cocktail we ordered (and there were more than a few between us), but our favorites included a banana- and soy-tinged take on the Boulevardier called Arrested Development, and the Pink Pony, which resembles an espresso martini but subs out the vodka for reposado and mingles it all with a hint of raspberry. To go with our cocktails (and to make sure we didn’t fall off our stools), we ordered a cheese plate, which featured three hunks of cheese, a stack of crackers, and some cracked olives.
Our shared obsession, though? The Jane Gherkin (Hermès, eat your heart out). Though you may think a pickle-brined martini doesn’t sound all that inventive, Carlo explained that though he generally dislikes vodka, he set out to create a vodka-forward martini that he would be happy to consume. I too am generally a gin dirty martini gal, but one sip and we were captivated. The vodka in question is Truman, crafted in Austria and fat-washed with cheddar cheese, then shaken with cornichon brine and dry vermouth. The big, savory flavors in the diminutive martini glass were so smooth and intense, it was like eating a cheese and pickle sandwich. And, of course, it came with a cornichon garnish and a sidecar of cheddar cheese. Which made me even happier.
Though I am generally a bar seat patron, the space seats about 40. And because it sports many of its original trappings, like the Tiffany chandeliers, as well as a Baroque, lavish vibe, you can happily while away a few hours in the wood-paneled and brick lounge area. And don’t mind Frankie the ibex (no, NOT a deer, thank you very much) looking over your shoulder from the wall. Think The Plaza meets 80s basement.
All in all, I was happy as an M&A VP with a thirst for murder hanging out at Bateman’s. I loved the pomp and circumstance of the gorgeous drinks, yet felt right at home in the laid-back atmosphere. The bartenders were happy and helpful, and I appreciated the creative whimsy of each cocktail as I read through the menu. But really, I can’t wait to come back for that fatwashed cheddar vodka and pickle concoction — or whatever dirty martini they’ll be serving off the menu next.
