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The Revisit: Southwark


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The easiest way to tell a bar from a restaurant is by the smell of the men’s room. 

I couldn’t keep that thought away from my olfactory nerve during a recent night at Southwark.  It had been years since my first time there.  And my first time had also been my last.  I remember having a fine dinner, but one that failed to cast the spell that so many other folks had fallen under at the then-new, classically styled Queen Village haunt. 

In retrospect, that was probably because I’d eaten in the back dining room instead of at the bar, where bartender George Costa was mixing Gibsons and Aviations when the rest of the city was still one big slosh of pink-lemonade Cosmotinis. 

Almost ten years later everyone else has caught up—and Costa has moved on—but Southwark is still humming along.  It recently installed a new chef, Sam Jacobson, whose previous tenure at Sycamore helped put Lansdowne on the dining map.

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