The Cervo’s Sibling Does Bar Snacks Right

I have one complaint to make about Eel Bar, a new Iberian wine bar at 252 Broome Street, just east of Allen: No eel!

The restaurant from six partners, Nialls Fallon, Russell Perkins, Nick Perkins, Leah Campbell, and Taylor Ward, with food from chef Aaron Crowder, Eel Bar is the successor to Cervo’s, which opened in 2017, landing a Michelin Bib Gourmand and one star from the New York Times. The restaurant was ahead of its time, as it turned out showy and, for some, challenging food (shrimp heads, for example), straddling the line between a wine bar and a full-fledged restaurant. Subsequently, places like Claud, Chambers, and Demo have carried on this brinksmanship.

I was wowed by the décor: It feels pleasantly somber and positively European, with dark-stained woods and strategic mirrors. It reminds me of I Sodi, a very grown-up place that, in its plainness, doesn’t pander to theme-bar attitudes. Refreshingly, there are no black-and-white photos of fishermen emptying their nets, no nostalgic placards flogging sherry or vermouth, and no buoys or oars affixed to the walls.

The U-shaped bar is connected by a seating area with pebbled windows, through which blurry figures can be seen scuttling by in the street. The windows between the bar and dining room are my favorite detail: They allow people on each side to peer past bottles at the other, like being in a spy flick from the 1960s.

The food is mostly great, even better than Cervo’s, though some may find it too close to conventional tapas bar fare. The menu offers three pintxos, the best of which is the classic Gilda ($9), inspired by a 1946 Rita Hayworth movie and consisting of skewers with olives, anchovies, and pickled chiles, a power snack if ever there were one. Mellower, to be sure, is the pinxto that features a mound of snails on a gobbet of bread.

Some might gravitate toward the ham and cheese croquettes or bright red piquillo peppers stuffed with crab, but I prefer the more innovative tapas. While mussels usually find themselves steamed or grilled, here a half-dozen are crumbed, fried, and deposited back in their shells ($14). You’ll be amazed how good a mussel is when you don’t have to deal with its stringy anatomy.

Some dishes fall flat: A friend and I were disappointed at a dish described as baked oysters, which had been so briefly baked that the oyster liquor was hot while the creature hiding in its shell remained raw. A mayo-laden potato salad, formed into a hockey puck topped with roe, found me deconstructing the dish and eating the elements separately, though it made a pretty picture on the plate.

Since Cervo’s opened, our idea of intriguing menus in a place at this price level ($50 to $100 per person) has changed, and the proprietors of Eel Bar have gone with the flow. One larger dish ($30) blew me away: a crock of pale meatballs awash in a light gravy with excellent french fries tossed in. It was delicious beyond its humble appearance, reminding me of Libertine’s sausage and mashed potatoes — a dish that, in presentation, anyway, doesn’t quite jibe with the restaurant’s theme but is clearly there because it was so damn good.

Like Cervo’s, Eel Bar has a hamburger. The anchovies were optional there, but the Eel Bar’s burger ($28) includes both anchovies and Roquefort, heaped on to make the city’s most intense burger. The blue cheese reminds me that April Bloomberg made a splash at the Spotted Pig by putting tons of Roquefort on her burger, partially eclipsing the taste of top-quality meat.

There’s one dessert at Eel Bar: For my visit, it was a San Marcos tart. This 1000-year-old ecclesiastical sponge cake is soaked in liquor and layered with whipped cream and chocolate truffle. Make sure you share it with another person — it goes perfectly with a shared glass of sherry.

Speaking of sherry, the benefit of visiting Eel Bar is the multitude of drink options, including seven types of vermouth as well as so-called prepared vermouths. I loved the one called marianito ($14): red vermouth, rum, curacao, and bitters. There’s also the classic picon punch, but what went even better with the food, in an earthy sort of way, was the Isategi Basque cider. It reminded me of late summer’s first green apples with light bubbles. As I sipped it, I sat there thinking how well it would go with a serving of eels on toast.