A Superbloom of Daring Theatre Hits New York

Bar tab

Taran Dougal inspects the new dive in Bushwick.

In today's New York City, dive bars are becoming an increasingly rare sight, gradually losing their place in the economic food chain to fancier establishments that are more amenable to influencers and their algorithms. Turbo Pizza, So it's a breath of fresh air to be in Bushwick: it's a rare new dive that seems to have been around for decades – neon tubes, beat-up pool table, sticky floors and all. On a recent weekday, a group of friends sat in a leather booth while an early-2000s pop-punk track blasted from the speakers above them. One friend noticed a section of the menu called “SHOTS SHOTS“!,” he headed to the bar and ordered a Jolly Rancher, a sweet mixture of vodka, cranberry and pineapple juices and peach liqueur. “I think we could head out,” the bartender said, rummaging elbow-deep in the refrigerator before producing a bottle of the viscous scarlet liquid. Out came a massive whiskey glass. “You're in luck.” I'm going to complete you – I don't know how long it will last. The friend felt anticipatory regret. Back at the table, food decisions were made as the rest of the group enjoyed the kitchen's Detroit-style pizzas, including burrata soppressata, a sweet-spicy blend of hot honey, basil and chili flakes. This was followed by fried ravioli which hit the mark only a sufficiently greasy little plate can. By now the Jolly Rancher had disappeared, as had the elegant dirty martini, which what it lacked in age it made up for in strength. The napkins were crumpled; the plates were licked. The group demanded the check, but faced stiff competition for the bartender's eye, who was glued (in accordance with standard dive protocol) to the evening's Mets game. Even here, the attention economy dominates.