The other night, on my sidewalk, a little corner bar called Noah’s became hard to ignore. Gone were the sandwiches and pies, gone were the awesome scratch-and-snack bartenders, gone were the silly movies, gone were the drinks that cost only $3.00, and in their place was a generic convenience store-style retail space. Across the street: a POD Market; next to POD, a Go To Market with a deli counter and a barbershop. On the side of the convenience store/store, in about 24 feet of no-man’s land, sits what is now Tussing Cafe.
Cafe Tussing is a new coming-of-age pub/nightclub that operates largely from the indoors. There’s a simple dance floor built to look like lounge, a small stage to perform, and folding tables placed at the edges of the room that turn into couches during intermissions. There are rarely more than nine people on the dance floor, while there are dozens, hundreds, even thousands a night in the kitchen, all serving huge portions of food.
It’s a must-go for my apartment’s tenants, whose living room smells of stale wine, and all the tabletops are full of kids from nearby camp, walking home from the nearby liquor store. It’s a destination for the parents, while those who hang out for long stretches sit inside a 1940s-era bar and drink until they pass out. It was not what I expected for a local neighborhood bar, but this isn’t any neighborhood bar.