by Joe A. on Maybe I shouldn't even be reviewing this place because I only go there for brunch. But I love the atmosphere and the service is super friendly. I like that I can control their music with my iPhone. Of course the food is always good. No surprises on the brunch menu which is good. Nobody needs a hard to navigate brunch menu with a Sunday morning hangover. I'm sitting here right now and I found my new favorite table. Here comes my food. Yum!
by Kip Jerde on Never. Again. Sorry, this is so not my scene. I think this stopped being my scene when I stopped fetishizing hiphop and the type of guys who listen to it. And that's just the downstairs grope-a-thon, I mean dancefloor/bar. I thought random groping of women was now considered really passe and just, like, WRONG. Appearantly not at Iguana, where if you are a single woman trying to take a spin on the floor, a feeding frenzy ensues where every non-attached man in the room invades your personal space. Even the bouncer downstairs tried to hit on me. Lame. It was my friend's birthday and I was planning on buying drinks and eating. But the legendary 32-mojito menu was only available upstairs. WTF? And I couldn't use a credit card. Or at least they tried to dissuade me from it, saying only cash. Double WTF! I refused, told them I was planning on spending some money. They tried to tell me to go down the street to the nearest ATM. Had I not been there because of my friend's party, I probably would've left already. Finally they agreed to take my AmEx. It had been raining that night and they said they were having trouble with the phone lines. Well that's not my problem! Get some carbon slips and get me my drinks, damn it! Bad service is probably my ultimate pet peeve, followed by bad food, and bad crowd. Bad decor ranks up there too, but if any of the following three are bad, I'm probably too annoyed to look at the decor. At Iguana, the service sucked (when I did go upstairs for one of their 32 famous flavored mojitos) the bartender was so soft-spoken we literally had to lean over the bar to hear him. Downstairs in the grope lounge, the two bartenders had attitude, took too long, and made very mediocre drinks. One request for a Sapphire & Tonic came back with speed rack gin and I know Sapphire from well swill. Bartender gave me an attitude when I requested a replacement, telling me it was Sapphire, but when I tasted the "new" Sapphire & Tonic, it tasted nothing like the previous one. I know I'm right; don't try to play me because the rest of your clientele is tacky, cheap, and knows no better! (Can you tell I'm pissed!) The guacamole, the only thing I ordered off the menu, barely merits 2 stars. It was not well seasoned, had no kick, and the tri-color corn chips that accompanied it were soggy. I wish I were kidding. The mojitos, so hyped at Iguana's, SUCKED! I had the coconut mojito, which the bartender claimed was BY FAR the best on the menu and it tasted like feet. It had a vaguely musty, stale taste to it. No mint, and definitely no coconut. It was probably coconut milk they used to make it, but it was either old or so dilluted that nothing could have saved this poor excuse for a cocktail. It even came with a poorly cleaned, dessicated, UGLY sugar cane decoration in the PLASTIC glass. PLASTIC?! No self-respecting establishment in NYC serves in PLASTIC glasses. That is a clear sign that the management doesn't care enough or that they KNOW the clientele is low-rent enough that they a) don't care about good stemwear or b) might use glasses to beat each other up with, so be on the safe side and use plastic. Ghetto! My bill came to $108. I have no idea how that happened. I don't care. I will pay it and never set foot in such a substandard ghetto spot ever again. Sorry if I offend anyone with my comments, but this place is for overweight black and latino support staff or hourly-wage employees. It is loud, dirty, and a throwback to 1996 when getting dry humped by a complete stranger was a normal part of an evening out. My boyfriend, a very attractive and well-dressed black man who happened to wear sneakers that night ($100 sneakers, with his Mavi jeans and Diesel shirt!) was stopped at the door and almost denied entry. Yup, by the same SOB bouncer/ID checker that was trying to kick it to me. That my BF was an invited guest of the birthday girl made no difference to the bouncer, who escalated the issue to the manager, who had to WALK HIM IN to the grope lounge, where dozens of fat, ugly, SNEAKER-WEARING losers were stomping around the dancefloor, mimicking the latest video dance moves. This place is truly pathetic. It's even more insulting if you're a person of some kind of ethnic persuasion who's moved beyond the ghetto fabulous lifestyle. Stay away, stay far far away.
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