Welcome to The Johnson's

Before settling into brunch, I decided to head in to the Lower East Side early, to take photos.

Attempting to convince myself that my headache (uncured my Advil+pancakes + bacon) wasn't really bothering me and that I really wasn't that hungover- I happened upon The Johnson's.


A chalkboard outside the bar claimed to have the "best Bloody Mary, really!" I decided to give in. I had fifteen or twenty until I had to meet my company. Clad in dark wood and family photos, the spot has the key elements for the 1970's rec/den room. The bar was also: completely empty. Never mind as the bar keep was quite charming, from Maine and currently hating on New York (plans to high tale it to San Francisco soon). That's cool. New York's only the greatest city on- but not everyone's flavor.

I watched him pour no-name vodka, loads of pepper, Worcester, juice and Guinness (yes the beer) among other secrets into a pint glass. "This is the only fancy drink we have. Eight dollars." I pulled out a twenty and reached for the glass garnished with a little pickle and took it in.

Confirmed. This. Is. The. Best. Bloody. Mary. Ever.