The eternal candle at John's of 12th Street fascinates me. Can it really be true, that the owners have lit a candle in the same place every night since the 1930s, the wax building and building and building over the decades, cut back only when it gets too close to the ceiling? Could there be 70-year-old wax at the bottle of the burning, man-made stalagmite? Depression-era wax? World War II wax?
John's of 12th Street, apart from having a great name, is a cozy nook of history to enjoy a quiet bowl of pasta in. What's more, it's so unlike much of the rest of the East Village. I would love it if it were just down the block from where I live, and probably make it a haunt.