Hey Park Slope...Yelp It!

When it comes to food reviews, everybody knows that the world's most trusted source for unbiased opinions is Yelp. Bored of going to al di la every night and looking for a new place to try? YELP IT! Curious about what REALLY goes on at Thistle Hill Tavern? YELP IT! Don't give a shit about food but are still looking for a good laugh? YELP IT!

Earlier this month, Uproxx tipped the world off to this awesomely-revealing Yelp review of Park Slope's Taco Santo, penned by up-and-coming Yelp critic Ross F:

"The entire kitchen and wait staff saw an ice cream truck and ran outside, leaving me alone in the restaurant. 10 minutes later they all came back with ice cream cones. I still can't believe this actually happened."

I don't see what the big deal is. Ice cream is awesome and if you don't abandon your restaurant to get some, there's a pretty good chance that you'll never have the chance to eat ice cream again.

Taco Santo isn't the only place in Park Slope where shenanigans abound, so in honor of Ross's groundbreaking review, we've rounded up a few of our favorite recent Yelp reviews for your gratification…

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This is My Favorite Yelp Review Of The Gate

Photo via www.thousandbars.blogspot.com

Let's get right to it. I love this harshly hilarious Yelp review of neighborhood bar The Gate:

The black, beating heart of Park Slope.  The Gate is notable for its ex(t/p)ensive beer selection, outdoor patio and for its impressive ability to embody everything that is both charming and unpalatable about Park Slope.

On a good day, The Gate is a quiet, cosy spot where you can enjoy a few pints of the good stuff and watch the world go by.  Dogs gaze over at you longingly for a scratch behind the ears, sunlight pours into the patio, and the craft beers flow.

On a bad day, it's a smug, unfriendly den of snobbery.  The service here generally ranges from poor to outright hostile, The Gate is doing you a favour, you just happen to be there.  Babies and toddlers named after medieval tradesmen (Hunter, Cooper, Fletcher etc.) crawl out of and over every nook and cranny, running amok and writhing all over the floor as their owners exchange Bukowski quotes and vegan recipes.  If you have the misfortune of finding yourself at The Gate during football season, you will open the door to a plethora of bearded alterna-dads desperately trying to high five and yell their way back to some distant memory of masculinity that got lost somewhere between a double wide stroller and an organic soy milk latté.

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