The dark one, not the light one. The old one, not the "new" one. Gone.
Gone the blood-red shag ceiling.
Gone the big booth with its view of the avenue's drama.
Gone the bullfight "art."
Gone the Disco Fries.
Gone my last supper.
Odessa has been here since 1965. I've been eating there for the past 20 years. There used to be lines to get in the door, if you can imagine that. And now it's gone, soon to be an "American brasserie." Because what the East Village needs is more "America."
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