Gastropub offering dishes like pan-roasted chicken in a lemon white wine sauce; truffle gnocchi; and grilled bratwurst, plus fish entrées, steaks, salads, and small plates. Lunch and dinner Mon thru Sat; brunch and dinner Sun.
Back in the day, when sunburned colonists were picked off by malaria as they sweltered under pith helmets, the booze-loving Brits discovered the joys of gin and tonic. Turns out that the bitter, alkaline solution of quinine powder (which prevents mosquito-borne malaria) goes down better with a bit of sugar and a slug of gin. Skip wan squirt-gun versions of the classic Colonial quaff and hit The Tap House, Tuckahoe’s gastro-pub. Here, quinine powder is spooned from bar-top bowls, and tonic water is mixed before your eyes. One gin-soaked sip, and you’ll be enjoying sultry breezes off the savanna from your camp-stooled perch.
The typical pub has a cook; not a chef; in the kitchen. But the Tap House is anything but typical. Will Savarese has brought his frying pans, whisks, and talent from the kitchen of Bedford's reserved La Cremaillere, where he toiled as chef for six years, into the kitchen of this informal new gastropub. The food is hardly pub grub. Yes, meatloaf is served, but the Tap's meatloaf is stuffed with diced imported prosciutto; its stylish Reuben is prepared with braised cabbage and Hudson Valley duck. And when did you ever have foie gras at a pub? The Tap's ricciolina pasta has diced pieces of luscious liver. And tapheads need not worry: no one has forgotten the gastropub's 'pub' part. There are Belgian-style ales, pale, bitter, and brown ales, porters, lagers, several wheat and fruit beers, plus 11 selections on tap. Drink up!
Okay, you’ve got your chips, your pretzels, your peanuts, and even your nachos. But only The Tap House serves a warm bowl full of heaven in the form of bacon popcorn. Cooked in bacon fat, the popcorn is then sprinkled over with bits of bacon ready to be gobbled up by happy customers. The snack, served upon request, is made fresh twice a day before both shifts. “We used to charge four dollars per bowl,” says owner Chris O’Brien, “but it has become so popular that we don’t charge anything anymore.”