The Patriot Saloon
Tue Jul 29 2008
Photograph: Talia Simhi
Time Out Ratings :<strong>Rating: </strong>3/5
Tribeca may rank among NYC's ritziest zip codes, but you'd never know it at the Patriot Saloon, a riotous honky-tonk bar and a churlish throwback to a coarser (and cheaper) Manhattan. Owner Tom McNeil (Yogi's, the Village Idiot) reprises his roadhouse recipe of copious whiskey, dirt-cheap PBR and barely clad babes at this bi-level saloon. The Patriot's ramshackle atmosphere can feel contrived, but it's still fun: The cavernous downstairs is a kitsch repository, with discarded undergarments, a stuffed crocodile and a long, scarred bar upon which buxom bartenders gyrate to Johnny Cash and the Charlie Daniels Band ("The Devil Went Down to Georgia" inspires an enthusiastic response). Upstairs there's billiards, TVs and nightmarish bathrooms. For tipplers more given to craft brews, the Patriot Saloon is Dante's seventh circle of stale-beer hell. But inexpensive booze is part and parcel here (as is filth). Pabst pitchers ($6.50) and Wild Turkey shots ($4.25) are the preferred potions for the construction workers glued to the bar on weekdays. Rowdier are the weekend crowds, when youthful hordes down two-bite burgers, guzzle beer (taps include Stella and Guinness) and slam Jgermeister until last call. Like that bitter spirit, the scene can be an acquired taste.