Profile

This venue is closed.

Dracula might take a date down into Evelyn's subterranean cavern. Antique sconces and a roaring fireplace shed yellow light onto cold stone walls lined with long, velvet banquettes. Unfortunately, "mochatinis," not served in a goblet as the décor would seem to demand, are the poison of choice at this castle. And the cash—wadded, stogie—smoking weekend habitués are more likely entranced by long—legged cocktail waitresses and repeated playings of Moby than by the Evelyn's finely conjured, elegantly macabre mood. On a weekday, however, the enormous space is almost completely empty, with many a private corner for lovers to sequester themselves. — Shana Liebman