Russian Vodka Room, 52nd street

“The more a party member drinks, the less is left for a hooligan,” states the menu.

All this snow creates a craving for the Russian fare of my childhood. I always wanted to try that Russian Vodka Room on 52nd street. Somehow, this place did not meet the expectations. As usual, we ordered a bunch of appetizers — small plates that allow for better idea of the place and cuisine. Smoked trout seemed to come out of the supermarket plastic bag. Potatoes that came with it were probably cooked the night before and just taken out of the refrigerator. The horseradish sauce tasted like a dijon dressing from a bottle.

Pelmeni were good but they so closely resembled those we buy at Gourmanoff on Rt. 4 in Paramus, only three times the price.

In terms of vodka: I do hold my alcohol well but when one doesn’t feel anything after three shots on an empty stomach, one starts to think: Hmm, what am I drinking? Service was pleasant on the surface but the stuff members were engrossed in conversations among themselves and left us with the feeling that our presence was bothersome.