Thrillist, which always gets scoops before me, emailed this morning with news and pictures of Bianca's, opening August 25 at 550 W 38th St, near 11th Ave in Hell's Kitchen. (Which is really inside HeadQuarters men's club.)
The blood-red lounge space warms the cockles of my tiny, rockabilly heart. It looks like a 1940s boudoir -- but the boudoir of some "bad girl," not Kate Hepburn or Lana Turner. (Maybe the boudoir of a prostitute cut to look like Lana Turner...) That's an LA Confidential reference, so I can't get in trouble for saying "prostitute" on this blog, right?
Regulars I'm sure will note that we keep reporting on the success of the "breastaurant," which is one of the only restaurant genres doing noticeably well in this economy. And Hooters really can call itself a family restaurant when Robert's at the Penthouse Club and Bianca's in HeadQuarters feature actual nakedness.
For me, the most fun part of all this is how much fun restaurant reviewers seem to have writing about these places. Like Thrillist which opens with "They say a way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but who doesn't also heart boobs?" and ends with a description of the food: "... halibut slathered in asparagus and wild mushrooms, whose parents will be devastated that they exposed their caps for a bunch of fratty, middle-aged businessmen."
From Thrillist.com. (Readers with poetic souls may want to click the link, because Thrillist is offering access to whoever sends them the best haiku about food and boobs.)