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As evidenced by the classic Coca-Cola posters on the red and yellow walls and the red leather bar stools (and, uh, the name), this Prospect Heights hot spot was once an ice cream parlor in the 1930s. Now in lieu of cherry-lime rickeys it offers 15 draft beers, bar food such as BLTs and fish and chips, and plenty of places to park the caboose. Groups clamor for the big, round table by the window, while a raised back area is better for one-on-one conversation. The adjoining annex—more Gothic parlor than ice cream parlor—is strewn with clusters of cushy couches and oversized armchairs and turns into a dance floor when the D.J. spins on Fridays and Saturdays. If this sounds no better than a brownstone living room, that explains why that rare, laid-back, Brooklyn-loving breed known as the "Heights-ian" loves this place so much. It's unlikely anyone's apartment leads to a barely-lit deck where aging indie-rockers and stroller-pushers crowd convivially around tables laden with pierogies, shoestring fries and that local favorite, Coney Island Lager.
— Elizabeth Cline

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