This venue is closed.
On one side of this gloriously tacky Ukrainian dive, a brightly lit diner caters to senior citizen locals and NYU students pulling all-nighters over coffee. Next door, a kitschy bar and restaurant serves the same greasy, delicious food to a lively crowd of post-collegiate punks on their way to or from the clubs. The ceiling is covered with what looks like red insulation foam; clusters of phallic gourds decorate the walls; and no, that landscape's not a Rothko, it's a Rodko.
Picnics with a view, roller-skating nostalgia, and a party for gay headbangers.