Best bars in NYC
At this time-capsule FiDi nook, you can drink like a boss—Boss Tweed, that is. In a redbrick three-story landmark, Belfast bar vets have conjured up a rough-and-tumble 19th-century tavern with a refined cocktail parlor upstairs. The saloon is just the kind the bare-knuckle Five Points gang the joint’s named after (its emblem was a dead rabbit impaled on a spike) would have frequented while the top floor lounge resurrects an astounding breadth of long-forgotten quaffs on a menu that's literally a novel. Spanning 100-some-odd bishops, fixes, nogs and smashes, the bar squarely hits many of these mid-1800s hallmarks and eclipses the competition.
The nattily attired bartenders are deadly serious about drinks at this Gothic saloon, a pioneer in New York's now relentless mania for craft cocktails. Behind the imposing wooden door, jet black walls, cushy booths, and chandeliers set a luxuriously somber mood. Tipples here are consistently among the city's best, many of which have propelled mixology trends across the country. The inventive and classic concoctions include the Sweet Hereafter, a Latin American martini riff made with floral pisco, St.-Germain, Dolin Blanc vermouth and Cocchi Americano.
It's no wonder that a booze-powered Fantastic Four opened this capacious, teal-daubed barroom. Each tipple is measured on two scales: refreshing to spirituous (how boozy do you take your drink?), and comforting to adventurous (do traditional or quirky flavors appeal?). Situated above a scruffy liquor store on Avenue B, the airy second-floor drinkery is appointed with milky Art Deco lights and wood paneling. Claim a barstool to watch a pro expertly stir your drink in a beaker-like glass, or settle your crew into one of the cozy dark-gray banquettes.
Getting maced in the East Village might sound like a New York nightmare, but not at this pocket-size cocktail club (named after the nutmeglike spice, not the eye-burning pepper spray). The barmen center each of their concoctions around one spice, imported from their respective travels and showcased in mason jars around the spice-market–inspired space. The goods here are bold, sure, but with just enough temperance to leave you wanting more.
Not all spin-offs are created equal. Luckily for Gotham’s cocktail-swigging masses, this Milk and Honey redux falls into the former school—but with a livelier, lighter air. From the up-tempo retro tunes to the brightly lit, lived-in digs (whitewashed brick, tarnished a sign hanging on the wall), Attaboy proves a breezy evolution of the form. At the brushed-steel bar, suspender-clad drinks slingers stir off-the-cuff riffs to suit each customer’s boozy preference.
Tørst—Danish for “thirst”—helmed by legendary “gypsy brewer” Jeppe Jarnit-Bjergsø and chef Daniel Burns, formerly of the planet’s hottest restaurant, Noma in Copenhagen. These warriors are laying waste to tired ideas of what a great taproom should be, with a minimalist space that looks and smells like a modernist log cabin, and rare brews from thoughout Europe and North America.
This standard-bearing cocktail parlor from mixology matriarch Julie Reiner (Leyenda, Flatiron Lounge) expresses its Victorian bent in intricate tile work, curved leather booths, marble tables, vintage sofas and a functioning fireplace. The centerpiece is the 19th-century mahogany bar, where vest-clad barkeeps stir and shake throwback potions, handily defined in the novel-like menu. Choose among regal crystal bowls of punch or finely wrought drinks, both classic and new.
Come for the negroni, stay for the vibe and just move right in for the pasta. It's that simple, pleasure-seeking ideology that embodies Dante, the beloved MacDougal Street Italian café turned small plates restaurant and cocktail bar in 2015. After a century as a staple in the once predominantly Italian neighborhood, the original owners, a Fiotta family, sold the name to an Australian hospitality group helmed by Linden Pride (AvroKO), who revamped both the decor (green-leather banquettes, a pressed-tin ceiling) and menu, but preserves the storied history through classic Italian food and drink.
Warning: You’ll be annoyed with this subterranean den at first. The entrance is hard to find, but the wandering effort is well worth it, if only for the cavalcade of cocktail killers at its helm: Death & Co. and Maison Premiere vets behind the stick. Together, the trio has stirred up the kind of devil-may-care after-hours haunt you’ll want to linger at long after closing time. The inventive, freewheeling menu runs the gamut from crisp session cocktails to hefty late-night slugs to help you unwind in one of the low-slung oxblood booths inside a sultry, cavernous lair.
An import from Chicago, The Aviary NYC has obliterated bartenders’ tedious habits to create grandiose thrills, serving over-the-top, fully experiential cocktails in a sweeping 35th-floor Olympus that looks like Don Draper art-directed The Jetsons. The impressive barroom does a lot of big things fantastically, including pyrotechnic displays that not only dazzle in presentation but allows customers to see their drink’s flavors birthed before their eyes.
When a sake-and-spirits temple with a Pegu Club–pedigreed barkeep lands on the Lower East Side, there’s no avoiding the chorus of cocktail-geek fanfare to follow. Yet take a seat at Kenta Goto’s glimmering black-and-gold boîte, lodged away from the Houston Street bedlam, and you’ll find the noisy hype storm is curtailed by cool poise, from the hostess’s graceful reception to silent servers weaving through tables. In the absence of distractions, focus directs to the well-lit bar, where Goto effortlessly stirs his Far East–whispered creations, drawing on his Japanese heritage.
This gorgeous, New Orleans-inspired salon—its green walls fogged with a faux patina that suggests decades of Gauloises smoke—is devoted to the twin pleasures of oysters and absinthe: two French Quarter staples with plenty of appeal in Brooklyn. Sip on one of the international varieties of the mythical anise-flavored liqueur, best enjoyed as an opalescent brew made by slow-dripping ice water over a sugar cube. It's dangerously easy to be seduced sitting round the oval, marble-topped bar, emptying beau soleil and belon shells—or in the dreamy 1,000-square-foot vine-covered garden out back.
This dapper Gramercy lounge is a railroad space divided into period-piece quarters: a rococo, gold-leaf–kissed Victorian parlor, a glittering Gatsby-era salon veiled in crystal curtains, and an ashtray-dotted hooch den worthy of Don Draper. Spend an hour at this luxe, kistch-free oasis and you’ll completely lose track of time. What's more, you'll never be disturbed from your time-bending experience: cocktail waitresses appear on demand by the flip of a switch and newly arriving guests must wait in the lobby to be ushered inside in a civilized fashion. That way, everyone can party like it’s 1967—or 1923 or 1885. You decide.
Pay a visit to the urbane barroom, a second floor sanctum on bustling Houston Street, and explore the eminent opus, which includes new classics such as the Gin-Gin Mule. The drink—a vivacious elixir of homemade ginger beer with Tanqueray gin, fresh mint and lime juice—was first served at the Beacon Restaurant & Bar in 2000. Equally renowned is the Earl Grey MarTEAni, a frothy and fragrant nod to English teatime traditions made with loose-leaf–infused Tanqueray gin, lemon juice and an egg white.
The James Beard Award–winning trio behind neighborhood stunners Eleven Madison Park and the NoMad, expanded the latter to include this elegant saloon inside the NoMad hotel, teeming with lofty pub grub, digs worthy of 007… oh, and triple-digit-priced cocktails. But there are pocket-friendlier picks for those of us outside the 1 percent, like a Pimm’s Cup and the gin-and-vermouth English Heat. A seat at this sleek, fireplace-lit pub lends a won’t-break-the-bank taste of EMP extravagance.
Walk through an unmarked side door at the front of Japanese restaurant Village Yokocho, and you’ll find yourself in perhaps the classiest joint in the East Village. Angel’s Share remains completely unknown to some of its neighbors; that duality is part of its charm. Standing around and groups of four or more are not allowed—but this is really a date place anyway, offering a stellar view of Stuyvesant Square, tuxedoed bartenders and excellent cocktails, including one of the city’s best grasshoppers.
At this pint-size Clinton Hill den, the affable staff and bar-only seating—a wood-topped curve that stretches the length of the space with elixirs, mixers and house-made syrups on display—invite a pull-up-a-chair-and-tell-me-your-life-story kind of night. With white peppercorns and caramelized pineapple, the drinks list reads more like a dinner menu. And the preparations follow suit, with tricks like a currant-roll-infused rum and bananas that are brûléed right in front of you.
At this sly, effortlessly cool '70s-styled cocktail den, bartenders have torched cocoa butter atop the frothy, rum-and-whole egg cocktail; stirred a pisco-tinged concotion and red wine ice cubes into a glowing, off-menu lava lamp tipple; and poured sips of wine directly into patrons' mouths from traditonal Spanish porrons. Retro funk beats and amber lighting might at first remind you of your grandparents' basement—as do the wood paneling, beaded curtains, and cheese ball appetizers—but the quaffs, and the service, are far from out of style.
Ladies should probably leave the Blahniks at home. In traditional Irish-pub fashion, McSorley’s floor has been thoroughly scattered with sawdust to take care of the spills and other messes that often accompany large quantities of cheap beer. Established in 1854, McSorley’s became an institution by remaining steadfastly authentic and providing only two choices to its customers: McSorley’s Dark Ale and McSorley’s Light Ale. Both beverages have a lot more character than PBR, though at these prices, it won’t be long before you stop noticing.
The entrance to this taxidermy-strewn saloon is hidden behind an old phone booth inside Crif Dogs. Pick up the receiver and a hostess opens the back wall of the booth. Inside, a team of barkeeps offer thoughtful cocktail creations. The staff is happy to talk you through any libation on the menu, or suggest an haute dog brought in from next door. It’s that kind of dedication that makes getting in worth the effort.
Sitting across the galleria from Le Bernardin, Aldo Sohm’s annexed vino-hub is far less buttoned-up than its big brother—no reservations or suit jackets required—but the level of detail here proves this apple didn’t fall far from the tree. The elegant living-room space hints at ritz (glittering globe lights, rare Keith Haring canvases), but a plush sectional at its center welcomes you to sink in and unwind. Toss out any preference—bold and spicy, sweet and bubbly—and your sommeilier-server will cater to your every wino whim. Between pours, you can get schooled on the ins and outs of grapes and regions—without the sniff-and-swirl snootiness.
There is no bar to belly up to at this louche lounge. Drinks are prepared in a beautiful but half-hidden back room surrounded by gleaming examples of every tool and gizmo a barkeep could wish for. From this gorgeous tableau comes an austere cocktail list, which includes classics like the Manhattan and Negroni, and variations thereof. Who needs a barstool anyway?
Long before craft entered the lexicon, there was Blind Tiger, one of the OGs of the New York beer scene. Since its arrival in 1995, Blind Tiger has achieved legendary status thanks to a meticulously curated program and some of the city's best bar food. The 28 taps, two casks and one gravity keg, plus more than 80 bottles, make this the first port of call for brewhounds who want to track down pours they can't find anywhere else.
Keeping a dive bar—and even a beloved one—alive in New York isn’t easy, which makes the phoenix-like rebirth of Holiday Cocktail Lounge—a six-decade-old East Village mainstay whose barstools have seen the likes of Allen Ginsberg, Joey Ramone and Sinatra—such a head-scratching anomaly. Three years after the bar shuttered its dinted metal doors, the saloon was given a new lease on life. And though the place has been spruced up—duct-taped booths traded for green banquettes, neon beer signs for gold sconces—the joint hasn’t been scrubbed clean of its charm.
Former bar pioneer Sasha Petraske’s formula is pretty familiar: natty bartenders, precise drinks and little (if any) signage. What separates Long Island City's Dutch Kills from the rest is space. The plentiful elbow room makes it a comfortable place to enjoy inventive cocktails. The affordable cocktail price tag is a welcome break from the $16-a-drink norm across the river. And if you go on a weekday, you can escape the city crowds as well.
If you’ve ever wanted to feel like a minor character in a David Lynch film, then slink into a black dress, smack on a dark-red lip and hightail it to the Art Deco treasure trove that is Slowly Shirley, a sultry hideaway beneath Jon Neidich and Jim Kearns’s West Village bar, the Happiest Hour. True to form, the drinks from a former Pegu Club pro evoke classic cocktails of the era with names like Loose Lips Sink Ships and Ingrid Bergman.
Tucked next to Saxon + Parole in the space that formerly housed Madam Geneva, this Latin-spirited cocktail haunt straddles the line between speakeasy and dive bar, accessible through an interior door from the neighboring American restaurant. (There’s also an entrance on Bleecker.) For the sliver of a bar—festooned with red lights that cast a glow over everything (an IRL Instagram filter, really)—head barmen Nacho Jimenez built a menu that emphasizes mescal but isn’t committed to the liquor.
This bar focuses on tequila and its cousin, mescal, at this East Village haute cantina. The craftsmanship in the drinks is equaled in the bar menu, featuring shareable snacks like crispy plantain tostones and popcorn dolled up with cotija cheese, ancho chili and lime. Despite its many strengths, Mayahuel wears its ambitions lightly. With so many of today’s top-tier cocktail bars lousy with vanity, that humility is a welcome departure.
A fortune teller greets patrons at this comfortably-worn reproduction of a prohibition speakeasy. There’s a rousing scene in front, a mix of diehard regulars and industry types who jockey for the attentions of the chef-coat–clad barkeeps. Of all of the city’s craft cocktail joints Employees Only is among the most populist, with enough nerd-baiting tipples on the menu to please aficionados without alienating everyone else.
This unmarked boîte is the sort of contrived hideout that might be cooked up by an overgrown kid with a chemistry set. The bar is littered with old vials, the cocktails are referred to as “prescriptions,” and the bartenders-cum-mad-scientists are in rare form—note the cinnamon-flambéed Himalayan salt that rims a margarita. Does all this hocus-pocus translate to better drinks? Well, the Tainted Love (a sweet stress reliever made of beet juice and gin) as well as the Sitting Buddha (a vodka and lemongrass elixir made with fresh pineapple, pressed ginger root, lime juice and agave) certainly cured our sobriety.
As befits cocktail progenitor Sasha Petraske’s liquid legacy, the drinks at this clubby, low-ceilinged Village rathskeller are nigh perfect. If you choose to deviate from the menu, just give the neatly attired, polite bartenders a base liquor and a hint of your mood, and they can tailor a drink on the fly. A call for rye got us a spot-on Italian twist on a Manhattan, featuring maraschino liqueur, Carpano Antica vermouth and amaro. Custom-made cocktails—no password or secret handshake required.
At this a colorful nook, curious drinkers can find plenty of ways to mix edification and inebriation. The focus here is on amari and other bitters, which can be explored via tasting flights or excellent stirred cocktails. Sip your way through a range of trendy fernet or herbal liqueurs made by Carthusian monks, then try a modern-day cocktail.
When it opened in 1995, this trailblazer embraced all the contemporary beer memes while most NYC bars were still dealing in Miller and Coors. Beer lovers fond of European classics as much as the domestic microbrewery du jour will appreciate the scope of the 20-deep draft selection: You might find an orange-tinged Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier from Germany alongside New York beers such as the velvety Southampton Imperial Porter.
Nineteenth-century nostalgia rules this Harlem lounge, inspired by Almack’s Dance Hall, the erstwhile Five Points saloon. The owner is also of Harlem’s Society Coffee, and has outfitted the cozy vintage space with purple velvet curtains, distressed mirrors and filament lightbulbs. But he took some liberties with the recipes: The Ol’ Fashionista blends Grand Marnier with bourbon, the house sidecar gets a splash of green chartreuse, and the New York Sazerac features a dose of cognac.
Choice acts keep New York’s most dapper nightspot on the map, while the steep cover charge and white-jacketed service makes sure riffraff doesn’t scuff up the bar’s most valued draw: original Ludwig Bemelmans murals. The spiffy (and pricey) potions preserve the bar’s classic character, like the Paradise cocktail (pear vodka, Aneri and prosecco with lime and bitters), or a rum, lime, tonic and Martell cognac concoction named for the spot’s longtime barkeep, Tommy Rowles.
In a mystic-cool space rigged with Indio candles, cathedral-pew booths and a golden tin ceiling imprinted with crosses, a Clover Club alum takes the reins on the cocktail menu and proves she’s worthy of the title leyenda (Spanish for legend). The docket of South of the Border cocktails goes well beyond tequila, pulling from her time spent living and working in Guatemala, Argentina and Peru. Grab one of the more tropically minded numbers and head for the breezy, tree-filled, salsa-soundtracked patio out back. You’ll feel less like you’re in central Brooklyn and more like you’re in Central America.
A revivalist spirit is at the core of this retro-fitted bar that's a reimagined midcentury greasy spoon the Long Island Restaurant. But the cocktail vet behind it does more than simply dig up old bones—he fleshes out the joint into a new being entirely. The menu swaps out the tortas that once powered neighborhood blue-collars for Cecchini’s fine-tuned list of six bedrock quaffs.
For Long Island City, the transformation from underserved 'hood to serious food-and-drink destination has been percolating for a while. Alewife represents the next crucial piece of the puzzle: a craft-beer destination that can go toe-to-toe with the most pedigreed suds haunts in Manhattan and Brooklyn.
Venue says All day Happy Hour Monday-Thursday! Late night Happy Hour: Sunday-Thursday 11pm - to close.
If you're looking for an elegant seaside experience that rivals a day in the Hamptons, step aboard Grand Banks, the historic schooner turned oyster bar docked at Tribeca Piers. If you'd prefer to simply sip and watch the sunset, two brass-tapped bars flank the bow and mizzen-mast, offering prime seating even without reservations. Though docked at amenity-rich Pier 25, the Sherman Zwicker sits just enough below deck for an out-to-sea feel, but with the glittering World Trade Center and spotlighted Statue of Liberty still in sight.
The underground speakeasy seems like a seductive bachelor pad from the 1960s: The faint smell of cigarettes wafts through the space, which is adorned with dark leather banquettes, wood-paneled walls and working fireplaces. The attentive staff serves gussied-up drinks for parties of overlapping limbs and fused-together faces. The simple cocktail menu by Jeremy Strawn (Mulberry Project) lists each drink by its foremost ingredient, like Coconut, Celery and Carrot.
Is Avenue C the new Avenue A? The already-jammed Wayland may be the nieghborhood's most versatile barroom, with a menu infused with DIY flourishes, crafting proprietary bitters and jams from a pantry of seasonal ingredients. Meanwhile, the memory of Banjo Jim's, a honky-tonk dive that used to occupy the space, is kept alive with Miller High Life longnecks, eclectic tunes on the speakers, and an upright piano that hosts the occasional jam session. These enticements make the spot easy to like.
The intimate Copper & Oak on the Lower East Side have whiskey enthusiasts covered like the sealed top of an aged barrel. Dive deep into the brown stuff at Copper & Oak, which boasts a collection of hard-to-find Japanese whiskeys. The gilded barroom could pass for a small library, with backlit bookshelves crammed with 600 bottles of dark-hued elixirs—it’s an apt setting for those looking to expand their whiskey wisdom.
The nice lady with the blond wig and penciled eyebrows is Lucy. Alphabet City residents of all ages shoot pool on the two worn tables and select tunes from a jukebox that features Paul Stanley and Stan Yankovic (the polka king). Come at night for lively atmosphere; in the light of day, the place seems more like Harry Hope’s Last Chance Saloon.
Time Out New York gave the Pool a five-star review, and now Major Food Group officially unveils the bar within the restaurant. For MFG’s first boozy opening since ZZ’s Clam Bar, the team put Thomas Waugh (Death & Co., Maison Premiere) behind the 75-seat mezzanine bar to craft “poolside-inspired” cocktails mixed with summery ingredients. Small seafood plates from chef Rich Torrisi, including caviar service and toasts, accompany the cocktails.
This breezy, rum-soaked drinkery sitting secreted away near the Williamsburg waterfront, is mysterious and sexy enough to lure you inside on sight, yet substantive enough to keep you coming back to dig deeper. The cocktails alone could coax aficionados from their habitual perches, but it’s the transporting staging that seals the deal—a fever-dream vision of Central America that takes its inspiration from Spanish-colonial cathedrals, Art Nouveau parlor rooms and the sailor’s flophouse that existed on this site in the 1800s.
A giddy enthusiasm electrifies the rooftop bar that crowns the Freehand New York. Located in the no-fun nexus of Gramercy and Murray Hill, the Miami import is packed with happy-go-lucky twenty- and thirtysomethings that just seem relieved that the Caribbean rooftop even exists, let alone that they are there. Unlike rooftops around the city with sleek designs and glass parapets, Broken Shaker is meticulously crafted to look and feel like a well-worn and snug oasis.
This subterranean brew house is the unofficial clubhouse for the New York beer community, thanks to the efforts of its garrulous owner. The dozen taps and deep bottle collection are often the first point of entry for both hyperlocal nanobreweries and new-to-NYC imports. We've tried unfiltered Franconian lagers and a Japanese brown ale brewed at the foot of Mount Fuji at the marble-topped bar.
Prepare to geek out at this temple to beer and vintage arcade games: first at the 35 classic quarter machines (Donkey Kong, Galaga, Contra), then at the ever-evolving beer selection. Opened in 2004, this is the original location of the Barcade franchise that has since expanded to New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Connecticut.
Venue says HAPPY HOURS M-FRI until 7pm! $1 off Beer, Wine and Well Drinks | Select Beer & Jim Beam shot for $10
This spacious, stylish watering hole offers two great bars in one: wines by the glass and half bottles on the ground floor, and cocktails and spirits in a basement lounge. The wine list upstairs features a well-priced collection of offbeat finds while downstairs, you can sip classic and original drinks like the assertive Reverend Horton Heat, a tall bourbon refresher with smoked lemon juice and sweet maple syrup. On Monday nights, bartender Maks Pazuniak's hosts an experimental cocktail series, "Something Like This." Starting at 9pm, sample innovative and off-kilter sips that riff on specific themes both straightforward (a tribute to drinks chronicler Charles H. Baker Jr.) and abstract (apocalypse-inspired, dark-hued libations), all matched to a playlist.
Amid the swank food sanctums sprouting around Park Avenue South, this classic tavern remains a shrine to unchanging values. Most old-time Old-Towners go for the much-praised burger, which we found in need of a little salt. For lightweights, there’s a smattering of salads and other sandwiches. Some things, however, do change. Bloomberg’s antismoking legislation has made the once befogged booths and long mahogany bar strangely haze-free.