A few weeks ago, my buddy C told me about a mystical happy hour at Claw Daddy’s (185 Orchard St), where its oyster happy hour runs until 9pm Monday through Thursday.
Yeah, you f—ing heard that right…
So obviously I’ve been obsessed with trying out the place, despite not having regularly ventured to the Lower East Side in quite a while, even though I spent most of my 20s there. (Hello, Dumpling House [now known as Vanessa’s, wtf], Sugar Sweet Sunshine, and other places that pander to the broke and gluttonous.) I mean, the happy hour features $1 oysters, $1 wings, $4 house wine, $5 draft beers, and $6 cocktails. Like, why was this place not completely packed?
I happen to be FUNEMPLOYED this week, which allows me to meet up with a ton of people for lunch (a luxury that people who work on Tenth Avenue don’t know), coffee, drinks et al. so believe me, I am taking FULL advantage—including working out midday, like I did today at the 12:30pm strength class at Uplift Studios. My instructor, the lovely Jess, had us do these effective/terrible/amazing/torturous “bicycle bicep” moves that I’m too traumatized to discuss but in my mind justified my breakfast of a giant everything bagel with scallion cream cheese (uh, pre-class), a lunch of spicy tuna rolls, an afternoon treat of frozen yogurt, this insane happy hour, and more dessert afterward.
Luckily, C was available to join me in my indulgent evening, which started off with the Hummin’, a soju martini that came in what she aptly dubbed an “adult Capri Sun.” The bartender informed me that Claw Daddy’s had just started this new method of packaging its cocktails, and you know what? It did feel pretty fun and especially refreshing in today’s 84-degree heat. (I later had two of its lychee martinis, which frankly at $6 I was losing money for NOT ordering more.)
We split an order of a dozen $1 oysters. They were pretty giant and delicious, and even though I wasn’t too crazy about the sauce, I mean, ONE DOLLAR.
We also got a dozen Cajun wings, also $1 each, which came with some sort of white sauce that was pretty good. I’ve been to a bunch of oyster happy hours but none that offered wings; alternating between the spicy chicken and cold oysters was quite delicious.
When it comes to food, C and I are kind of partners in crime so we just kept exclaiming, “Why aren’t more people here? Why doesn’t everybody in the city want $1 oysters and wings?” I mean, whatever, Wednesday night, right? Plus there was some giant kiddie party taking up most of the space there, but I’m already dreaming of when I can go next.
By the time we’d finished, it was 10pm and we figured that since we were already on the Lower East Side, we had to go to Morgenstern’s (2 Rivington St), whose ice cream we’d both tried but never at the brick-and-mortar. After waiting on an insane line for about 40 minutes (WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE WHO WAIT ON LINE MIDWEEK FOR ICE CREAM? Oh, our kindred spirits), I paid an obscene $6.50 for a scoop each of sesame and Vietnamese coffee—so freakin’ creamy and practically melting off my sugar cone but ridiculously delicious.
I repeatedly tell myself that when my diabetes diagnosis comes, at least I will have zero regrets. GOOD DAY.