Elvis, a Parisian-inspired wine bar, opens on Great Jones in New York

For 35 years, the Great Jones Café was a New York City hangout, a veritable institution. Since 1983, the Cajun-Creole bar and restaurant at Great Jones Street and Bowery has been the epitome of a neighborhood hangout. From its warm, understated interior to its crumbly stucco facade, The Great Jones glowed orange everywhere, calling passersby to come and relax. But in 2018, The Great Jones closed its doors and, after a glamorous makeover called The Jones, got a new owner and a new name.

On September 11, Jon Neidich’s Golden Age Hospitality and Eric Kruvant and Darin Rubell’s Paradise Projects opened Elvis, an all-natural French wine bar serving small plates, mostly at room temperature, at 31 Great Jones Street. Golden Age Hospitality, founded by Neidich in 2012has become a force in New York’s dining scene, with a sultry lineup of spots like Le Dive, The Nines, Acme, Deux Chats and Happiest Hour. Neidich paints many of the city’s hot spots with a brush coated in French red Kool-Aid. And, frankly, it’s pretty easy to drink.

Although it’s a new initiative, Neidich wants Elvis to echo the vibe of its decades-old predecessor.

“I remember the orange interior and the iconic look of the storefront,” he told Observer. “I wanted to pay homage to a legendary venue by bringing back the original colour of the famous Great Jones Street. The size of Elvis makes it really special. It’s a small space with a lot of energy from his past.”

The 30-seat, bite-sized interior is true to Neidich’s vision: milky orange walls, mauve-red tile, marble countertops, and the original Great Jones Café wooden bar that stretches across one wall. Custom-woven French rattan barstools alternate between red and black, exuding a heavier Parisian air in the former New Orleans space. Two of the stools have been cut off at the legs, as if devouring the café’s “Eat Me” petit four. Alice in Wonderlandto squeeze under a window. Arguably the best seat in the room during the warmer months, this cramped little counter accepted the breeze from the open glass windows while still feeling saturated by Elvis’s bright interior, which, by 7:30 p.m. on opening night, was overflowing with customers.

Kruvant, who lived above the cafe, also approached the launch of Elvis as a kind of rebirth — a sensual tangerine-colored time capsule dressed in country curtains and French dishes in jars.

“I was a big fan of the Great Jones Café,” Kruvant said. “A friend of mine showed me the space around 2010. My partner, Darin Rubell, and I are friends with the original owner, Phil Hartman, who shared many old stories with us, like Dan Aykroyd and Bill Murray dancing on tables or how Basquiat’s assistant would wheel him lunch from The Jones across the street to his studio.”

Golden Age Hospitality executive chef Nicole Gajadhar’s menu includes cheese ($9 each or $23 for three) with dripping honeycomb, walnuts, and tomato jam (the Langres, oozing from its bright orange rind, was exquisite; other choices included the Tommette and the Mad River Blue). For $15 to $18, country pork or mushroom and truffle terrines, duck rillettes, and an impeccably smooth, delicately rich chicken and foie gras pâté complemented the wines beautifully. Other notable bites included citrus olives, anchovies with pimento butter, the gourmande hot waffle (a dense, crisp-edged potato waffle brimming with melting raclette and piment d’Espelette), and the off-menu grated watermelon radishes with whipped herb butter. Entrees were capped at $24 for the tuna Niçoise, which is relatively reasonable for a NoHo wine bar. The $22 chilled whole artichoke aioli with Dijon mustard wasn’t worth the $20 surcharge (an artichoke on Instacart costs about $1.79, or $4.49 for an organic one at Chelsea Whole Foods), despite the eye-catching aesthetic and the silver platter it was served on.

Neidich and his team chose to fill the wine list with natural French wines by the glass and bottle to offer customers unique options at more affordable prices.

Frank Guerriero, Dive’s wine director, curated Elvis’ wine list to maintain “a sense of whimsy and discovery,” balancing modern classics from avant-garde producers with lesser-known wines he discovered while living (and drinking) in France. Guerriero’s choice is a bottled wine, Le Fond de l’Air Est Rouge, because it’s fragrant and playful, with a hint of minerality that pairs perfectly with the pork terrine. As for his absolute favorite?

“Thierry Hesnault’s wines have made me cry at least once, so I’m delighted that his Pineau d’Aunis, with all its vivacity and verve, is in the cellar,” Guerriero told the Observer.

On opening night, I enjoyed a large batch of well-executed bites and two glasses of wine by the window, as if immersed in a day-to-night timelapse from a grainy romance film. I arrived in the early evening light, when the brightly colored exterior burst into life and a few people sat at the bar. The dark, airy interior brimmed with the kind of New Orleans energy the old cafe once possessed. As the sun set, Elvis crescendoed—the crowd hummed along to the candlelight, ’60s French pop kept the beat, and twenty-somethings lit up cigarette after cigarette outside. While I don’t enjoy the smell of tobacco while I eat, I didn’t mind. This is The Great Jones, after all, or is it France? It didn’t matter. I was transported, for a few moments, to both.

Still, I pondered the question that had been gnawing at me ever since I heard the Great Jones Café was getting the Golden Age treatment: Why did Neidich call it Elvis?

“I know it sounds crazy, but I’m not at liberty to say that right now,” Neidich said opening week.

I wondered if the name of the place was a final homage to the ceramic bust of Elvis at the Great Jones Café, which has watched over its legends and residents over the years? Is it because the old place had a jukebox, and it was so rock ‘n’ roll? Is Baz Luhrmann a silent partner? (I’d say Sofia Coppola, but then the bar would probably be called Priscilla.) Will there ever be an Elvis impersonator, swaying to “You’re the Devil in Disguise” on the old wooden bar? Lord, I hope so.

Whatever the name means to Neidich, the goal of his latest project remains in line with his other contributions to the New York social scene, only with a little more history.

“I would like Elvis to contribute to the identity of downtown,” Neidich said. “It’s an incredible place on one of the most historic streets in New York. In the same way that the old Great Jones Café operated, I want Elvis to become a local institution, a great place to meet for a glass of wine and a few snacks after work or dinner, and anytime in between.”