by Aruna A. on I recently went here on a Saturday night - and boy am I glad I did. Ranstead Room is a Starr restaurant venture - and as a result, I was skeptical. It has been my experience their food and drink is not always the best - and I've typically stayed away from Stephen Starr places (except of course El Vez, Buddhakan, and Alma de Cuba - I have a desire to try Stella but see no rush). I was BEYOND impressed with Ranstead Room. The bar is difficult to find if you don't know where it is ahead of time, and/or you are not familiar with Philadelphia. It's also relatively unmarked - there is a red glowing light on in a dark alley between Chestnut and Market - and that is Ranstead Room. They do a good job of setting the speakeasy mood - with the challenging location, the dark, dark, darkly lite room, and a beautiful chandelier hanging in the middle. The booths are also sort of smallish as is the bar itself - but the cocktails make it worth it. My friends and I went through a few - Smile Fizz, Blackmail, Tequilla Honeysuckle, and each one was better than the previous. The liquors are blended well with whatever is in your drink, and there is a variety from sweet to savory to hard core liquor taste amongst the menu of drinks. They also have an option called "bartenders choice" where you give them a few ideas of what you want, or none at all, and they make you something wonderful. Don't go here and expect to find food - they do have small snacks from El Rey which is connected to Ranstead Room - but it's not what you go here for. You go here for the drinks. On cold winter days when it's chilly and windy and snowy - this is the place to go and warm up. And drink yourself into a warm hole. The bartenders are great and knowledgeable, as is the staff. I appreciated the vibe, the drinks, and the ambiance. Additionally, everything is totally fairly priced. I'd definitely say make your way here.
by Mindy H. on *UPDATE 5/12/08: I demoted my review from two stars to one star. I went again last Friday and it was horribly bad. Read Jennie T's reviews for the highlights.* I'm torn between giving this place two stars, or three stars (three stars because the dance floor size is decent, and the DJ wasn't bad.) Why are there no half stars??? Oh well, so, I came here with a bunch of his friends. We got a table, but goddamn it was hard to get to. Firstly, there was a table line. Why? Because the security guards were patting all the boys down. They found an UNOPENED (meaning it had the vaccum sealed plastic wrap around it still) pack of gum on my friend and made him throw it out. Yeah, he could've laced them with meth or really been little packets of E. Right. The lady who was in charge of me didn't even look in my big purse. . .I could've hidden twelve steak knives in there and then passed it around to my guys later on. Or had a whole crack cocaine lab in there (this purse is HUGE). They just glanced in and then said I was okay and made me step off to the side. The table we had faced away from the dance floor (lame) so I was trying to peer over the high backing of the booth to look at the dancers, when a security guard grabbed my leg and told me I couldn't sit like that (on my knees in a kneeling position). Grrrr. The best part was when they spoiled my friends' game while they were chatting up some chicks. The guards pulled one of the girls away and asked for her ID (Uhm, weren't you guys the Nazis outside checking IDs and patting people down earlier??). Lame. This place sucks. I miss Garden of Eden :[
by Clementine Prosonic on Pretty chill low-lit speakeasy type joint with like a hand-painted graffiti sign out front and a nice set of iron security bars to protect the place. I mean this is *THE* heart of the 'Loin and it ain't pretty. The collection of vagrants, hobos, bums and crack heads shuffling about is astonishingly grim. But that's not the good part.... CAUTION: THE REMAINDER OF THIS REVIEW MAY POTENTIALLY BE CONSIDERED OFFENSIVE TO SOME FEMBOTS, UBER-SENSITIVE MALE TYPES AND/OR AVID ONLINE DATERS. MANAGEMENT URGES YOU NOT TO CONTINUE IF YOU ARE OF WEAK CONSTITUTION OR ARE UNABLE TO APPRECIATE HUMOR. THANK YOU. I admit it. I had a blind date here last night. I'm a member of a certain undisclosed online dating service and have had many such blind dates. Some good, some not-so-good, some downright bad. Well, this one fell into Category C on the spectrum. I don't mean to be mean, but this was a russian girl living on skid row a block away from the club and she was pretty broke down. I picked the place so it would be conveniently located close to her. Little did I know just how bad the hood was. I waited for her in the car. Anyhow, she shows up and is just brokadella in the looks department. She doesn't look *anything* like her black-and-white artsy fartsy pictures. That's typical for online dating, but this was extreme. She wasn't too easy on the eyes so to speak. And she had just gotten this weird really short haircut, which made her look even less appetizing. Her english was broken and we could barely understand each other. So we get into the bar, which is totally deserted. I order her an apple martini. I have water. We (try to) chat a bit. I can't understand her. She has no idea what I'm saying. My eyes begin to glaze over and I start to feel nauseous as it dawns on me that I've reached a new low in my ongoing dating saga. I excuse myself to go upstairs to refill my water and all of a sudden, it just hits me. I'M GONNA DITCH. So like a bat outta hell the survival instinct kicks into overdrive. I put down the water glass, smile at the bartender, and sprint out the door and down the street. I head instinctively for my car, panting, gasping and flailing my arms about uncontrollably all the way. I don't know what I'm doing. I can't control my feet, they have a mind of their own at this point as they swiftly carry me away from the nightmare, spastically hurdling over piles of sleeping bums. I make it to the car and screech away safe and sound. A slice of pepperoni at Victor's comforted me like a Red Cross disaster relief specialist.
