Owner Stephanie Wang greets a dripper at the new Drip Alchemy Bar (Photo courtesy of The Alchemist’s Kitchen/ Nutridrip)
“It’s the age of integration,” explained Ingrid, the in-house herbalist on duty at The Alchemist’s Kitchen.
I would have nodded agreeably if there wasn’t a large needle jammed into my arm, delivering a pinkish-orange liquid straight into my veins by way of a plastic tube. It’s safe to say that I was probably one of the first people to shoot up on the corner of First and First since Mars Bar was torn down there years ago. But I wasn’t mainlining China White– I was undergoing the Drip Alchemy Experience, a “nutrient-rich journey” currently on offer at The Alchemist’s Kitchen, which opened in February on the ground floor of the sleek condo building that replaced Mars Bar.
The future home of Sweetgreen (Photo: Daniel Maurer)
In just a couple of weeks, 10 Astor Place will be home to yet another franchise of the ever-popular mini-chain Sweetgreen whose salad-tossing expertise and local-farm-to-tongs ethos have hoisted them to top of the lettuce pile, so to speak. In a city full of assembly-line salad joints that follow Subway’s personalized sandwich-prep model (without being gross about it), Sweetgreen seems to be sweeping the competition– their Williamsburg location regularly draws lunch-hour lines extending all the way to the door, making them a standout in the fast food new wave that’s taking over our increasingly health-obsessed city.
Not long ago, wild-child ex-con and party boy of yore Michael Alig took a tumble off a Planet Fitness treadmill. Where East Village chic was once all about falling off the wagon, it’s now de rigeur to fall from exercise equipment. More →
What’s hot pink, “naked” and raw-nchy? Why, the new bricks-and-mortar Brooklyn location of juice mecca The Squeeze, of course. The food-truck enterprise is now cold-pressing a veritable cornucopia of fresh produce at 195 Graham Ave in Williamsburg, and packaging the pure nectar with labels like “Get your juices flowing,” “I have a heart-on,” and “the jeans I wore in high school.” What with the suggestive monikers, the trademark screaming pink, and the nubile juice-covered flesh on display on The Squeeze’s website, the last thing browsers might expect to hear is the voice of God.