Возможно, я слишком жестко осуждаю это место. Там и отличное качество пива и обслуживание! Но почему-то всегда что-то необыкновенное происходит со мной когда рестораны посещаю. Даю 1 балл за первое посещение и еще 2 за последующее два. Рецензия длинная и на английском написана. My philosophy is—when in Moscow, avoid Irish pubs like the plague… But I never thought I’d have to take that advice literally! (That is, if RUNNUNG from the plague is a way of avoiding it…). To set the scene, Silvers would have to be the smokiest place in Moscow. It’s in the basement of an old building and doesn’t seem to have any kind of ventilation system, except for the open door. Therefore, me and my g/f went there especially to smoke a couple of cigars. (Montecristo Petit Edmundo—”Petit” = “small” for those of you who haven’t wasted your time learning French). Here is the sequence of events: 1. Sat down, ordered two beers. 2. Lit up the cigars. 3. Beers delivered to table (while we are already smoking). 4. Waitress returns and asks us to put out the cigars. 5. I put up a fight as usual (why do I bother?). I explain that the cigars are expensive (350 each!), and that I can’t just throw it away. Especially considering there is no warning anywhere about a “no-cigar” policy. And anyway, the place is completely SMOKED OUT! 6. We agree that I can smoke the cigar. At this point I thought I’d won a rare victory over the restaurant fascism of Moscow—who was I kidding? 7. Waitress and manager approached me and explained that it’s NELZYA to smoke cigars. And I explained that it’s not fair to waste money when there is no warning of this. The manager explained that there IS a warning. “Look at the sign on the wall!” she said, pointing to a wall full of shit without any kind of sign. 8. HA HA! The evil Russian waitress thought she could use mind control, and trick me into imagining a “no cigar-smoking sign!” Thank god for my many years of meditation and mind training, which I often use to defend my sub-conscious against these kinds of attacks! 9. When she realized she couldn’t penetrate the inner recesses of my subconscious, she decided to call the formidable OKHRANIKI. Uh-oh! 10. Next thing I know, three of the finest examples of gopniki approach my table. Can you imagine it? THREE! Not only is it unfathomable that this place even needs THREE okhraniki. The funniest thing is, it took THREE of them to deal with the threat of my “petit”-cigar. They were very obviously THREATENED by the SHEER MASCULINITY of the cigar, and by my own very obvious superior masculinity. 11. I had no choice but to bow to the combined masculinity of THREE Russian okhraniki, and take my cigar outside. I understood that there was only room for THREE “Petit Edmundos” in this bar! 12. Coincidentally, at the exact moment I took the cigar outside, I saw THE PLAGUE coming towards me! Me and my g/f had no chance but to RUN FOR OUR LIVES! We bolted along Tverskaya, with The Plague nipping at our heels. Thanks god for Ritz Carlton! We ran inside and took refuge. The Plague obviously got confused, and, after about 20 mins floated by. 13. Me and my g/f decided not to risk going back to Silvers in case the Plague was there waiting for us, so we decided it would be wiser to go home. Of course, we intend to fix up the bill next time we come… So when I tell you to avoid this place like the Plague—do not take this figuratively. It’s a big shame, because they’ve got FANTASTIC quality imported Heinekken and Guinness and objectively speaking, the service is excellent!
