I love the food here. I love the political vibe , too. I'm very pro-bike. I've drawn for anarchist newspapers. I'm a member of Greenpeace, aging punk rocker, etc., etc.I know this review isn't about me, but I wanted to establish that, other than not being a vegan (and wearing leather - sorry about that), I'm exactly the kind of person who should be welcomed here. And I've always felt very much at home here, even though it sometimes makes me feel a little old. I catch myself thinking that the mostly very young clientele sure has weird taste in clothes, and it makes me chuckle.

Anyway, I've been going to this place since it opened, although not that often, since I live in Greenpoint. I made a trip south expressly to have their fabulous chili last night. I locked up my bike, smiling at the the funky sculpture that serves as a bike rack out front. I walked up to the counter, and the following conversation ensued:

"Hi. I'd like the chili, please, to stay. And can you make it spicy?"

"Can we make it what?"

"Spicy, please."

"What?"

(a little slower, louder)"You know, hot. Spicy"

"Oh we have hot sauce right over there. You can put it on yourself."

"Oh, OK. The other times I was here you didn't have any hot sauce out."

"What?"

"You didn't used to provide any hot sauce on this side of the counter. I've always had to ask the kitchen to put jalapenos on it."

"We don't have jalapenos."

"That's OK. Just whatever you can do to make it spicy, that would be nice."

At this point, she said they could put Buffalo sauce on it. I said OK, then thought wait, that's a barbeque sauce, and it's probably really sweet and smoky, so it wouldn't be right on chili. I said so. She canceled the Buffalo sauce, and a guy from the kitchen appeared, assured me it was just hot and not sweet, so it was reinstated. I got my change, said thanks, and started looking around for something to read. There was a political poster on the wall, and I said it was interesting that it compared Bush to Hitler, when in my opinion this administration is closer to Italian fascism.She said she wasn't interested in what I had to say. I called that a poor choice of words and not very nice.
She said maybe I should just leave when my food was ready. I asked why and stayed reasonable while she had a meltdown in front of me, accusing me of being rude. I begged her tell me how I had been rude, and even apologized. No dice. They made me leave, and a customer insulted me on the way out. It sucked. A lot.