No-limit hold’em
The default. Nine-handed, with a shorter six-handed game on Sundays.
The room
A former film distributor’s office on the fourth floor. We kept the posters, the parquet and the ceiling height, and took out everything that beeped.
The default. Nine-handed, with a shorter six-handed game on Sundays.
Four cards, more decisions, less patience required at the bar.
The dealer picks from a short list: hold’em, Omaha, stud, draw. Regulars only.
No members’ list on the door
Seats are held until fifteen minutes after the advertised start, then they go to whoever is waiting. There is no queue app and no reservation fee — you call the room, or you turn up.
Chai, water and something fried at the break are on the house. The bar takes cards, but the tables do not: chips only, from the desk.
Printed by the door, enforced at the table
Screen down, face down, off the table. Take calls by the bar.
Two people talking is a room. Six is a market.
Nobody wins a hand because you explained it afterwards.
Every time. It keeps the game moving and the room polite.
No mucking disputes. The dealer’s reading of the board is final, and then we move on.
What happens at table two stays at table two.
The bar is generous. The floor is not. Slow down or sit out.
Win or lose, the room closes at two. Nobody gets an audience.