Refrigerator staples of the downtown twenty-something: a Brita pitcher, beer, string cheese, ketchup and a Crif Dog’s “Eat Me” weiner magnet featuring a babe in a bikini riding a hot dog. That’s some Infatuation friendly marketing right there. When I think about Crif Dogs, I’m brought back to the blackout of 2003. How amazing was that? NYC turned into one big block party. The night it all went down, Crif Dogs was the only place in the East Village that had power because they were smart enough to have a backup generator for exactly such occasion. So while everyone else was sweating it out while food spoiled, Crif’s happily cooked up dogs and topped off beers (on the house!) for the whole neighborhood. A classic NYC moment for sure, and a fond memory I’ll never forget. Ever since the East Village started gentrifying, Crif Dogs has been there to support the lifestyle of the young, drunk, cash-strapped, and hungry. Open until 4am on the weekends and 2am during the week, C-Dogs is an all hours neighborhood hang, ideal for Late Night Eats, cheap beers, and a game of Ms. Pacman. There is one downside though. At night, big crowds of dude-bros gather, trying to impress their dates by being granted access into PDT, the not-so-secret cocktail lounge next door that you enter through a not-so-secret phone booth in the restaurant. We’re over that hidden door, walk through a secret tunnel nonsense. Get in and get out with your dogs while the Jersey Shore plays the name drop game with the bouncer.