B&L: Double Chicken Please

Some places acquire hype because what they offer exceeds expectations. In these cases, the hype is the inevitable byproduct of creating something that everyone wants to talk about, thus galvanizing everyone to try. In other cases, though, a place’s hype has nothing to do with what it offers. The hype is not a byproduct—it’s the whole point. These places frustrate me. The services cost the amount of a new clothing item, enabling me to waste money—and calories—on an experience to which I regret subjecting myself. I don’t doubt that bars later in the alphabet will fall into this category. Thankfully, D’s place, Double Chicken Please, does not. 

The hype for The Lower East Side’s Double Chicken Please is warranted. Before I explain why, you’ll need to understand how the place functions. The bar consists of a front part and back part, the latter referred to as the “The Coop.” Like Attaboy, don’t be surprised if you wait hours to get inside. Unlike Attaboy, Double Chicken Please does accept reservations… but good luck getting one. Refresh the Resy page at 12:15 and you’ve missed your shot, meaning you’ll have to join the block-long line like the rest of us mortals.

The line outside is for two purposes: one, to get into the front part of the bar, and two, to give the host your name and phone number, so you can join the waiting list for the back part of the bar. The drink menus in the front and back are different, along with the aesthetic. With dimmer lights and cozy nooks, the back is more apropos of a date night, while the minimal seating and brightness in the front is ideal for casual hangs. Although the drinks in the front are still delicious—and arguably, better than most typical cocktail bars—they are crafted in the morning, and accessible via taps connected to their respective barrels underground. The back part of the bar (aka The Coop) is the main attraction. I’d already been to the front, but this was my first time transcending into the illustrious back.

At first glance of The Coop’s cocktail list, I thought I was looking at the food menu. That’s because the drinks are organized into three lists: appetizers, mains, and desserts, with names like “Japanese Cold Noodle” and “Thai Curry” and “French Toast.” This is why Double Chicken Please is the ultimate bar for folks who genuinely appreciate a creative cocktail. “Getting drunk” is far from the point of DCP. Each drink is meant to be sipped and savored.

I started off with the Shroom Ceviche drink—the hearty taste of umami, but balanced out with the subtle sweetness of Chenin Blanc. For my main drink, I gambled on Cold Pizza. I’m glad I halted my reservations regarding the ingredients (tequila, parmigiano reggiano, burnt toast, tomato, basil, honey, egg white) because the drink was delicious. It did taste like pizza, but not in a disgusting, liquified way; rather, the drink contained the same notes and aftertaste as one of my comfort foods. I didn’t wait two hours to only dent the cocktail list, so I ordered another main: Red Gravy. This drink, with its maple and gravy flavors, transported me to my childhood Thanksgivings, ten years before my family began celebrating the holiday in restaurants. 

I’m not someone who craves dessert after dinner. One, because I’m usually so stuffed from the meal, and two, I don’t have the strongest sweet tooth. When it comes to snacking, I prefer chips over cookies. If I do order dessert after dinner, I’m typically satiated after two bites. That said, I do enjoy glass of Frangelico or a port. Double Chicken Please’s dessert drink menu will satisfy your sweet cravings, and you won’t be clutching your stomach afterwards. I closed off with Custard Bun, a sake-based drink that tastes exactly like its name.

I would absolutely return to Double Chicken Please. It’s one of my favorite places in Manhattan, and I think its top spot will remain when this challenge ends. Once you make it to the front of the Double Chicken Please line and join the waitlist, you’re allowed to drink in the front of bar. I think it makes most sense—experience-wise, and financially—to enjoy the bar in two evenings, just like I did: spend the first evening in the front, and the next one, solely in the back, saving The Coop for your second visit. Get your name on the list and kill time thrifting on Orchard Street, perusing at an art gallery, or unwinding at one of the hundred bars in the Lower East Side.

Even after your first and second visits at Double Chicken Please, you’ll want to return. The problem with overhyped places is when that’s all they’re good for, that’s all you need to go for. Once you accomplish said mission—and are able to tell people the verdict you discovered before them, a coveted feeling in New York City—you cross the place off your list. On the contrary, Double Chicken Please is the kind of bar you’ll continue to rave about and eagerly wait on the line afterwards, because you’ll know—for certain—that the hype is worth it.