A slice of the tropics right smack in the middle of Manhattan, the Hurricane Club whisks you away from the chilly city streets, but at a cost. It’s a loud, brassy version of Pegu Club — much more ostentatious, but unique nonetheless.
I wasn’t so sure about the food at first, so just stuck with the cocktails that they’re more known for. I had the “Strange Bedfellow to the Mojita” — an icy cold bowl of fruity rum, fragrant with fresh strawberries and mint. Although good, it was impossible for me to finish, and half way through, you may just start craving something salty to counter all that sweetness.
So we shared a pucker-incuding snapper ceviche that came in four little crystal shot glasses, topped with strawberries and jalapeno. The sugary cocktail might have only accentuated how sour the ceveche was, which didn’t end up being fully satisfying.
I also had the Hawaiian rice in a hot stone bowl — a tropical twist to Korean bibimbop. As an entree, it was a bit out of place in the context of the overall setting, but a nicely balanced one with bits of pineapple against a touch of Asian spice, and all topped with an egg over easy.
Next to Credit Suisse, I guess it wasn’t too much of a surprise that it was pretty corporate on a Thursday night. But given the prices, the distinctiveness of the Hurricane Club (which some may call borderline cheesy in fact) is not one many may find worthwhile to experience.