Hot Bub Time Machine

Hot Bub Time Machine

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So you’re leaving a MePa club this weekend.

Let’s say it’s 3:30am.

And you’re just desperate for something, anything, to rescue you from the morning you’re in for.

And like a glowing oasis of purity, here’s a second Bubby’s, a sweeping, column-laden corner of housemade everything, slated to open tomorrow right next to the High Line.

This is the home-cooked meal Meatpacking so desperately needs after years of… being Meatpacking. And this is how you’re going to coax out its majesty.

The group dinner.

Imagine four-tops filled with house-smoked beef ribs, buffalo chicken legs, hush puppies and the occasional matzo ball soup. Now imagine bringing a bunch of friends to clean it all off. Now make a reservation.

The non-party brunch.

Champagne supermen have their place. This isn’t it. It’s where the sunlight shines and you early-afternoon it with fried chicken and buttermilk biscuits. Oh, and smoked-bacon Bloodys (when in Rome, and all that).

The quick morning-after breakfast.

There’s an entire section dedicated to fresh-baked bread, knishes and cold-pressed juices (including an orange-lemon-ginger-turmeric-cayenne-and-sea-salt immunity booster). And it’s got a to-go window.

The post-Raven burger.

That window: open until 4 in the morning. Serving burgers. And shakes. And cherry pie.

Enjoy having Warrant stuck in your head today.

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