BARTINI'S
1 Station Square
Forest Hills, NY 11375
(718) 896-5445

I am struggling with how to properly review Bartini's, the bar at Station Square. If I wanted to be mean (though honest), I'd call it a laughable joke. A ghetto dump. A seedy pit. But there's no denying its potential. It could be simply amazing if it only wanted to.

Bartini's sits inside of the Forest Hills Inn building beyond the glowing pink neon sign. You'll show your ID to the black-clad bouncer at the door and walk down the steps towards the super-loud thumping club music. A DJ sits in the corner blasting rap and hip hop. Another bouncer watches the crowd (though I use the term "crowd" loosely).

Bartini's claim to fame used to be that they were a martini bar extraordinaire. There was allegedly a cocktail list with hundreds of different martinis to choose from and the bar had a solid ice top to keep drinks cold. Instead, we were given no such menu and the ice top was... gone. As you can see in the photo, tea lights are housed there now.

Purple neon glows along the ceiling. Mirrors line the walls. Red lamps, reminiscent of Amsterdam brothels, illuminate some tables. Instead of booths, a long series of heavily-stained velvet sofas wrap themselves from one wall to the next. What little carpet there is nearly black from old gum (or something). I don't even want to know what this place looks like with the lights on. The floor is tacky white tile, good for mopping up spills and puke. Bartini's feels like the kind of place that spends most of its time either being rented out for sex parties or closed by the health department.

Most people crowded the bar; a few people sat along the wall, drunkenly dancing alone in their seats. The crowd was thin, especially for a Friday night. "The music is so loud in here!" Girl Next Door screamed. "What?!" I screamed back.

I think that what upsets me so much about Bartini's is the potential. It has so much of it. It's not some shit-pot sports bar throwing cheap beer at a bunch of middle aged dudes interested in watching the Mets lose again. It's a bar that's literally underground in a city currently experiencing a speakeasy revival in a neighborhood with a high income bracket. What the hell is it doing being some wannabe club when it could be a $12-a-drink high-end cocktail lounge?

Okay, here are my thoughts: Bartini's SHOULD be Forest Hills's cocktail lounge. And I don't mean cocktails based in store bought syrups with pussy names like velvet rouge or midnight's delight. I mean the real deal. Hire someone who worked at Employees Only or Rye or Clover Club to create the menu. Ditch the goddamn DJ and replace him with a jazz CD or, better yet, nothing at all. Rip up the tile floor. Put down hardwood. Tear out the mirrors. Clean the bathroom. Toss the ratty disgusting stained sofas. No more well-liquor. From now on, the cheap gin is Tanqueray. No vodka. Dying to have beer on the menu? Local micro-brews only. Go to "Beers of the World" in Sunnyside on Queens Boulevard if you need ideas. Shitcan "ladies night", "salsa night", "reggae night", "gay night", "karaoke night" and any other theme-night from the repertoire. Leather booths. Replace the bouncer outside with a hostess and the bouncer inside with a waiter. Bartini's should only attract people who want to surround themselves in class without compromise, so throw away the garish neon sign and replace it with nothing. Maybe etch the name on the window glass or make a tiny brass plaque, but that's it. Subtlety is key.

The bar, the actual physical bar, is great. Solid wood, huge, with two classic vintage registers. It's fantastic. Forest Hills is crying out for a place where guys like me can get a real drink. Not a mass-produced beer and not a vodka-cranberry (notice I didn't say a Cape Cod, because the bartenders wouldn't know what I'm talking about).