The Vault at Pfaff's

I know you're not coming to this blog to hear about my romantic escapades (or lack thereof), so I won't tell you about the blind date I went on last week.  I will, however, tell you about the bar we went to, The Vault at Pfaff's.

The dimly lit room felt like an upscale brothel of the late 1800s - the kind where the ladies all wear corsets.  In fact, that's exactly what the waitresses in this boudoir chic lounge wear.  The folks at The Vault are trying to re-create the same highbrow literary atmosphere that attracted the likes of Walt Whitman when the bar existed in its first incarnation (in basically the same spot) back in the 1850s.  Right down to the menu, they've committed to the theme.  Food and drinks are displayed in newspaper form so it looks nice and old timey...though I'm betting you wouldn't find Twitter and Facebook logos on a paper before the turn of the century.  My drink, the Cobble Rouge Peachy Southern Hospitality, tasted like a bourbon version of sangria.  I didn't know that wine and dark liquor could work together, but they did.  If it gets Mr. Whitman's seal of approval, it gets mine.