West of Pecos, A Reclaimed Wood-Filled Southwestern Restaurant, Opens Tomorrow

I found myself parked in the middle of some 1950s-era Southern bar in Midtown Manhattan yesterday.  It was kitschy, with all its barnyard, trailer park, squeaky screen door decor, but it was nice.  And as I sat there, sucking down a $6 Miller High Life wondering how the fuck creative types could ever put up with such an exorbitant town, I couldn't help but to also ponder as to why the Mission doesn't have more goofy thematic establishments within its bounds.

Well, wonder no more: West of Pecos is opening tomorrow in the former Bombay Bazaar space on Valencia.  Now, Pecos doesn't exactly look like it will become anyone's regular haunt, and it could be closer to those areyoufuckingkiddingme? Manhattan prices we've seen so much on Valencia lately.  But, goddamn, it sure does look nice inside.

From Eater, who snapped the above photos:

At this point, the remnants of the former Bombay Bazar—three gaping skylights and original 1907 wood floors—have now been filled in with items salvaged in the Santa Fe area. A 100-year-old tobacco barn has been turned into a bar top and tables. Heavy reclaimed doors have been touched up with natural turquoise and brick red tones. Tin lines the bars, and round wrought iron chandeliers hang from the ceilings. It's all very rustic, and wooden with lots of Southwestern flair.

And the food?  Well, the menu is not up yet, but they are saying it will be lots of Santa Fe and Texan dishes of meats and veggies and some BBQ.

[Photos and More Info on Eater]

Comments (6)

someone had a mini pony outside the other day!

You say, “goddamn, it sure does look nice inside.” I say, “goddamn, that is some tacky decor, and not in an ironically enjoyable way.” It either has to go “full retard,” or it has to get rid of those mead-hall chairs. It looks like a restaurant in Des Moines waiting for a visit from “Restaurant: Impossible.”

people need to stop calling their roast bullshit with weaksauce barbecue. Respect the fucking game. I could be wrong about this place but considering how things are done in this town anyone serving “bbq” is suspect as fuck.

That bar looks similar to the one my alcoholic aunt Otis had in her finished basement, before a twister sent it to another county. Only thing she ever recovered was a bottle of bitters and some soggy coasters.

i heart pecos

Your vagina should reclaim my wood.