You may have noticed a few of your beer nerd friends in Brooklyn behaving strangely over the past week—perhaps skipping out of work early, or not answering text messages in the evenings, or looking jetlagged in the mornings (though I assure you I’ve done none of these things!) If you know someone who fits this description, it’s a safe bet they were at Tørst, the most eagerly anticipated beer bar to open in North Brooklyn in recent memory. Read more…
Strangely Masonic bear is watching you.
There is a sign tacked to the ceiling of a certain bar in the East Village that reads “We’re all here because we’re not all there.” It’s a phrase that’s been used a number of ways, but it’ll always remind me of what makes a great dive bar. Read more…
The Yardbird
I’ve stopped wondering how many artisanal cocktail bars the East Village can sustain, because the answer, judging by the thirsty crowds, always seems to be “more, of course!” Evelyn Drinkery, which opened two months ago on ever-fancier Avenue C (right up the street from Summit Bar and a craft beer store) is a refreshingly laid-back spot in an often riotous neighborhood. Read more…
The first time I tasted a penicillin was unforgettable. In fact, you could probably pin the blame for my home cocktailing zeal on this moment. There was a nose full of scotch smoke up front, a bit of numbness on the lips at first sip, and then a fiery kick of ginger on the tongue. This was followed by a surprisingly smooth finish, balanced between honey, lemon, and a mellower scotch. Read more…
This was my first stab at reproducing a drink I had at Milk & Honey, a cocktail bar in the Lower East Side. Milk & Honey has been around since 2000, and may be single-handedly responsible for kicking off the speakeasy trend in New York City. In the past decade a number of bars have opened downtown, each boasting about serious mixology and decked out in Prohibition-era decor. Read more…
I didn’t think DBGB was my kind of place. The name itself seemed like an unnecessary wink at the gentrification that’s been creeping up the Bowery above Houston Street. The shell of CBGB, a block away, has become a marketplace for designer fashion, and the upscale hotels and condos popping up around it are rapidly transforming the strip into a frolicking ground for the rich and fabulous. Read more…
Coal Yard isn’t a place where everybody knows my name, but everyone seems to know the dude at the end of the bar who’s flinging coasters at the tattooed bartender, who merely laughs and flings them back. The middle of the bar is occupied by a serious fellow huddled over a book, and the other end is taken by two older guys who look like jazz musicians fueling up for a gig. Read more…
If you have years of catching up to do with someone, you need a bar where you can actually chat, without feeling like a piece of driftwood being tossed around on a sea of drunks. Excellent cocktails never hurt conversation, so Summit Bar fit the bill nicely. I was a little relieved, on walking in, that there were no bartenders in suspenders or tasteful antiques attempting to evoke a 1920s speakeasy, a trend that’s getting a bit tiresome. Read more…
“Death of A Ladies’ Man” is the title of a spectacularly awful yet appealingly sleazy Leonard Cohen album, so it probably says something about you if, when you see this listed on a menu at a cocktail bar, you think “Aha, there’s my drink.” Significance aside, it was an enjoyable cocktail, mixing rye, Laphroaig, lemon, maple syrup, and tobacco bitters ($12). Read more…
I’ve been to Mars Bar, but I don’t go there anymore. It’s dirty. It smells funky. The beer comes in bottles. The bathrooms have an especially bad reputation. Years upon years of hard-won grime coats the carved, hacked-upon bar. The regulars are the kind of seedy drunks you don’t see downtown much these days. They provide a sort of deranged entertainment, like a living Tom Waits tune. Read more…
