New York Bar Hop

Such a classic city. So what’s a classic “New York” bar?

In anticipation of a long overdue return to New York, I asked people on my local Facebook whiskey group for their bar recs. Many great suggestions came in. Sorting through them, I took note of the high number of high-roller joints. Looking those up online, and seeing the slick photos of their slick interiors paired with eyebrow raising prices on their impressive menus, I felt myself recoiling oh so slightly.

In my handful of days in New York, did I want to go to a handful of swanky bars and pay swanky prices? Knowing myself, I might not feel so good about that. Bar High Five in Tokyo, which I visited last summer, was such a place. Elite, refined, rule-bound, with undeniably exquisite cocktails, it was definitely a cultural experience I was very glad to have had, yet not a place to which I would readily return.

Among my Facebook group’s suggestions I found myself most drawn to the less slick establishments. This set me to Googling things like “best dive bars in New York” and the like. I scribbled down a few more finds alongside my Facebook group’s recs. With more choices than I had nights in town to work with, I decided not to plan too much. I would certainly hit some of the places I’d looked up. But I also wanted to stay open to spontaneity. Not all great destinations are on the map, after all.

So here we go. My New York bar hop. Make yourself a Manhattan or just pour two fingers of your favorite whiskey and come along…

The Bars

Caledonia Bar Upper West Side

Spring Lounge Nolita

Nancy Whiskey Pub Tribeca

Whiskey Trader Midtown

Nurse Bettie Lower East Side

The Back Room Lower East Side

Last Call reflections on the hop

🥃 clink on these to jump back to here

Caledonia Bar
424 Amsterdam Ave

Landed at JFK in the early evening, took a series of subways to my hotel in the Upper West Side, checked in, went out in search of food—and whisky. Running on jet lag fumes, I wasn’t feeling choosey. Caledonia Bar was nearby and seemed to fit the bill nicely.

A slim, modest joint (I walked past it twice before finding it) advertising an emphasis on Islay whiskies, it was pretty empty for a Saturday night. At first I was the only customer, soon joined by a second, but never a third.

For sustenance I ordered their Smash Burger, a generously proportioned slider nestled into a mountain of dark amber fries. Perfectly good and more than adequate for soaking up drinks.

Their wall of bottles was sizable, yet seemed stocked with only the most readily familiar—lots of standard release Laphroaig, Ardbeg, Lagavulin, Bruichladdich, and for bourbon the requisite Bulleit and a conspicuous Blanton’s.

I ordered their Islay Old Fashioned, comprised of Cutty Sark Blended Whisky, Bowmore 12 Year, bitters, and a rough-cut wedge of orange zest, stirred on ice in a tumbler. The nose was invitingly aromatic, with the orange zest dominating a subtler salty smoke. But the taste was quite watery and thin. Again the orange zest led, followed by the bitters, with an undercurrent of satisfyingly cheap Beach Boardwalk sweetness from the Cutty and a subtle peat note from the Bowmore. Refreshing enough for $15 in one of the most expensive cities in America.

I also ordered an ounce (though it looked more like half an ounce, actually😒) of Ardmore Legacy—the distillery’s 40% ABV entry-level release, but new to me. It had a similar Beach Boardwalk cheapness to it as the Islay Old Fashioned. The nose showed coconut, almond, smoke, peat and salt. The taste was thin, with a salty, subtle peat note wafting over more prominent chocolate. The short finish was oaky and peppery around a creamy taffy note. Perfectly good flavors overall, but altogether too close to flavored water for my tastes.

Not the best first stop on a bar hop. But certainly unpretentious, which is always a plus, and perfectly serviceable for my jet lagged state. Prices were decent for what was on offer. But with such a pronounced emphasis on Islay whisky, including a $60/month Whisky Club for locals, I would hope for a wider selection beyond the most usual suspects.

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Spring Lounge
48 Spring Street

To help ensure New York’s reputation as the city that never sleeps, there’s Spring Lounge—open 8:00 a.m. to 4:00 a.m. Of course I had to go at opening.

Guinness counts as breakfast, right? I was tempted to pair it with a shot of Jameson but thought better of it. Spring Lounge certainly serves Jameson, alongside the expected entry-level offerings of the main scotch gang—Balvenie, Glenfiddich, Macallan, Lagavulin, Oban. Woodford and Bulleit share bourbon duty, with a bottle of Van Winkle Lot B on hand for the swells at $60 a pour.

But whisky is not the destination here. It’s the ubiquitous sharks. The dusty framed photos of old actors and patrons from a hundred years ago. The faded Delaney For President sign. The rounded bar counter that has supported the weight of innumerable elbows made heavier with no doubt an ocean’s worth of drinks.

So a Guinness in lieu of morning coffee was quite fitting. In its own way it almost tastes like coffee! And in all seriousness, bright and early in the morning it actually quite hit the spot.

And I wasn’t alone. Seven other people were right there with me to open the joint. All very evidently regulars with their regular orders the bartender already knew. Another customer and I helped her set out the stools.

So as a whiskey destination? No need to seek Spring Lounge out. But as a ground-level New York destination, I highly recommend it—especially to start your day off right!

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Nancy Whiskey Pub
1 Lispenard

Established in 1967, this American Irish pub gets the job done well. The food menu is the expected pub fare—burgers, pulled pork and grilled chicken sandwiches, hot dogs with sauerkraut, nuggets, poppers, mozzarella sticks, house and Caesar salads… On the humid rainy afternoon I was there, the kitchen was not yet open, but a generous array of free pub snacks were laid out across a long table.

I plunked down in the open window seat near the front entrance to enjoy the cooling rain, a glass of Redbreast 12 centered on the worn wooden two-top. Charcoal smoke from the pub’s sidewalk grill cut through the rainy air and mixed with the Redbreast’s insistently sweet vanilla.

The bartender, her thick New York dialect ready with a congenial “hon” for every customer, presided over the room with ease, grace, and candor. There were nine of us and, as with Spring Lounge, it was very evident I was the only out-of-towner. But she was as friendly with me as with anyone else. Consummately approachable, one could imagine she could also hold her own against a wild-eyed robbery if circumstance demanded it of her. Likely the local regulars would back her up instantly.

Like the other bars I’ve hopped thus far on this trip, Nancy Whiskey Pub’s whiskey list offers no surprises—except that they had a list! The name of the place had prompted me to assume there’d be a more extensive menu. But sitting in this cozy no-nonsense joint, I realized that was more a matter of my contemporary whiskey connoisseur’s expectations. Nancy’s is an old school American Irish pub. The Irish and American flags hang side-by-side above the bar. There’s a pay phone and stool just inside the doorway. Vintage 1980s MTV plays silently on the television, overpowered by a playlist of multi-era pop and soul. A poster of a 1969 Daily News front page story of the moon landing declares in its headline, “SO WHAT!”

Good bar.

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Whiskey Trader
71 West 55th Street

Aaaaand bad bar.

Of course, just like whiskey, bars too are a matter of taste. Whiskey Trader was not to my taste. At all.

The name was promising. Though the whiskey list couldn’t compete with high-end joints like Brandy Library, it was comparatively more extensive than the other bars I’d visited up to this point. Prices were on par or cheaper than many places. But this was not a place to taste whiskey. Drink it, sure. But not taste it.

Techno dance music pumped up loud enough to ensure yelling. Six large screen televisions offering a variety of sports, lighting the room with a dull digital dimness. Female supermodel bartenders with vaguely Russian accents wearing jeans short-shorts and snugly fitted low-cut black tank tops. A dive-bar interior design drenched in trashy downtown mainstream tourist sports bar vibes. The only thing missing was the requisite posse of conventioneers with their laniards still strung around their necks.

I ordered a pour of Clynelish 14 Year, a bottle I’d been curious about recently but not yet had. I consider myself to still have not had it. Served in this atmosphere, and in a large simple tumbler, there was just no focusing in on aroma or taste. It came across as cheap peppery scotch. Whether that was the whiskey or the influence of the setting, or both, is a question.

So if loud techno, louder yelling, lighting courtesy of big-screen sports, and short-shorts are your jam, head on over to Whiskey Trader when next you visit New York. Otherwise, go anywhere else.

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Nurse Bettie
106 Norfolk Street

I actually went to this bar twice. The first time was after some good friends had taken me to dinner at a place down a winding alley in Chinatown called Chinese Tuxedo, itself very worth a visit for cocktails and dinner, not to mention the history of the joint—a Chinese Opera House in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, where in 1905 a Chinese mafia boss and his goons from San Francisco machine-gunned a New York mafia boss and his goons. The bullet holes can still be seen in the old walls!

Anyway, from there we went to a speakeasy called The Back Room but it was too crowded. Great looking place though—more on that below. So we hopped right next door to Nurse Bettie. It was a social evening and I wasn’t in blog mode. But I really enjoyed it so I came back a few days later.

That first night I’d ordered two Old-Fashioned cocktails, one made with Baker’s 7 Year and another with WhistlePig 10 Year. Both were excellent, the whiskeys leading the flavor and nicely complimented by the sugar, bitters and orange zest.

For my return visit I stuck with the Old Fashioned, only without any special whiskey requests. I wanted to taste it not knowing the key ingredient’s brand. The taste was just as integrated as before, with a slightly more general effect. There was an herbal spiciness to it that took my sense memory to Old Overholt or maybe Rittenhouse. I asked the bartender. Elijah Craig. So that spiciness I was picking up was not rye but the Elijah Craig’s sweet oakiness. The more generalized taste impact of the Elijah Craig reaffirmed my agreement with the belief that better whiskeys make better cocktails. Not that this house-designed effort was bad. Just a touch less distinct.

That’s the cocktail. The bar itself is warm, intimate, and surprisingly easygoing considering its retro Bettie Page theme—the kind of emphasis that could easily go 1990s hipster, but here manages to stay well away from too cool for school. Both bartenders on both nights were approachable, congenial, and down to business. The music was 1990s and early 2000s pop, grunge, rock and soul, played at a level that allowed one to speak and not yell. On this second visit I came at opening, and things were very relaxed. Later that night there would be a Burlesque performance on a tiny 5×5 platform in the back corner. Packed into such an intimate space, I have no doubt it would be a lively blast.

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The Back Room
102 Norfolk Street

From Nurse Bettie I made my way next door to The Back Room. In true speakeasy fashion, on the street out front there is no evidence that the grey stairwell dipping down beneath the building adjacent to Nurse Bettie might lead to a bar. Only a make-shift sign, dangling awkwardly on a short chainlink fence, colorfully states “Lower East Side Toy Company.” And if one knows that red herring, one knows they’ve found The Back Room.

Down the stairs, through a dark cement underground alley and up a short black iron staircase, one finds a dingy door with a small circular metal grate at eye level. Behind that door, a faded red velvet and sepia toned oasis awaits…

The Back Room makes good on its speakeasy promise. Dim lighting from crystal chandeliers and wall sconces. Plush upholstered furniture. Provocative Prohibition era pin-up paintings. An old wooden radio on a mantel and a metal cigarette machine near the WC. There’s even a bookcase behind which another room can be found.

And this is no fabricated theme bar. The Back Room is one of two actual Prohibition speakeasy locations in New York City that still exist and operate as such today. Originally known as The Back of Ratner’s, having been situated for many decades behind Ratner’s Restaurant (open from 1905 to 2002!), the joint was frequented by actors and of course gangsters, among them Bugsy Siegel and Lucky Luciano. Today, though anybody of legal drinking age can freely partake (actually 25-and-older on Friday and Saturday nights, just to keep things truly adult) the bar still occasionally caters to bigwigs. Pearl Jam, Martha Stewart, Paul McCartney, Robert Plant, U2 and Adele have apparently all made appearances.

Considering such guests, not to mention the overwhelmingly sumptuous environment created, the staff were refreshingly low key and easygoing. Both nights I came, the vibe was entirely genuine. Even the other clientele seemed to be normal people and not fashionistas.

Another key detail is that all cocktails are served in teacups, a classic Prohibition trick for disguising booze. I ordered a Penicillin. Though the Penicillin cocktail was created in the early 2000s, it smacks of 1920s zing. (Penicillin the medicine was itself discovered in 1928.) Made with scotch, lemon, honey and ginger, the Back Room rendition came across very well balanced between its sweet and tart aspects, with a subtle savory spice from the ginger. Went down easy. Booze as medicine indeed.

I followed that up with a non-alcoholic cocktail called Mr. Hardy. (The other non-alc option was a Mr. Laurel.😉) A stirred blend of pear juice, agave, soda and lime, it balanced bitter and sour with an underlying sweetness. If I’d been told it was a regular alcoholic drink I’d have suspected vodka, as the pear and soda combine to create a subtle distilled grain note.

Both cocktails were fine, doing their job to refresh and enliven. The tea cup gimmick was the only special aspect to them. Without that and the immersive setting, I suspect they’d just be two cocktails quickly guzzled and soon forgotten.

On my second visit, loudspeakers were playing pop dance music in complete discord with everything else about the experience. On the night when my friends and I came but didn’t ultimately stay, however, there was a French-Canadian jazz singer doing a live set. I can’t remember what song she was singing while we were there. But listening to French jazz in a speakeasy with good friends is a good time. Listening to amplified pop in a speakeasy by yourself? Not so much. So if you go, gather a gang of pals and go early on a live music night.

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Last Call

What my solo return to both The Back Room and Nurse Bettie demonstrate is that atmospheric bars bordering on camp are not so great when you’re alone. Key to the fun of being in the room is sharing it with others. And even then it helps when such bars manage to be so easygoing, even no-nonsense despite the conceptual decor, like both of these examples do.

Other bars, like Nancy Whiskey Pub, achieve their own unique atmosphere through a gradual accumulation of nicknacks, wear and tear. I felt perfectly content to be alone at Nancy’s. I would also have enjoyed it with friends. But alone at Nancy’s I almost felt like a regular, the bartender having genuinely achieved that crucial yet too rare ability to welcome everyone equally and make them feel instantly at home.

At Spring Lounge I did feel more aware of myself as not a local—an annoyed regular pitched me some sass when I used the women’s room and she ended up having to wait a minute. But the bartender herself was perfectly approachable, and no-nonsense in that way that seems to me very New York. I felt entirely comfortable sitting there by myself with my Guinness breakfast, and would have enjoyed it with company as well.

The only misfires were Whiskey Trader, a bar seemingly confused about how it self-identifies; and Caledonia Bar, which advertises its Islay specialization without gathering enough Islay whisky to be special. But at least Caledonia Bar had the no-nonsense approachable thing going, and I’d certainly return.

So in the end, did I manage to find what makes a “classic” New York bar? Maybe. But really only a New Yorker can make that call. For me, I’d say it’s in the attitude. How many times in this post have I used the phrases “no nonsense” and “approachable,” and for bars as different as the high-concept Back Room and no-concept Nancy Whiskey Pub?

In the end, I just want to enjoy my drink, a good atmosphere, my friends if I’m with them, or my thoughts if I’m alone and pondering. If that can happen, it’s at least a good bar and possibly a classic too.

Cheers!