Editorial Review

There used to be a bar called Bluebird where the bartenders played Jesus Lizard album sides and it was too dark to tell if the tables had veneers or if that tacky sheen was just dried Bud. This is not that Bluebird. Not that this winebar/gastropub is lacking in personality—despite the size of its long room, the wood interior and soft lighting are homey and encouraging—but the price of a single drink would’ve gotten you halfway to blotto at its old namesake. Of course the goal behind Bluebird’s Belgian-studded beer list isn’t to get you wasted, but paired with the uneven/expensive food offerings and slacker service, the veneer is a little easier to see.