The Ear is a charming, stubborn sliver of old New York at the western end of Spring Street in a liminal neighborhood beyond SoHo’s borders and not quite The Village that—according to the eyeroll-inducing dictates of NYC real estate—is now called Hudson Square, I guess. The bar claims continuous service since 1817, which makes it one of the city’s oldest. Housed in the James Brown House historic landmark, the it’s just steps from what used to be the river’s edge, which you can see demarcated on the wall outside. But who goes to The Ear Inn for a history lesson?
The decor is unfancy, style-agnostic in a way that allows it to be itself. There’s some decorative junk above and behind the bar, wearing a half-inch-thick patina of dust. But what catches your attention is dark wood and brass warmed by daylight filtered through a green awning. The place feels old, but isn’t playing that or any other card. And unlike others of its vintage, The Ear Inn isn’t trying to sell you a Disneyland version of itself; the staff aren’t in costume, they’re not hocking branded trash. The closest thing to a schtick is the place’s nautical theme, but before John Lennon and Tom Waits and Salvador Dali ever drank here, it was indeed a longshoremen’s bar on the river. No pretense here.
The drinks are, as you may expect, straightforward. Draft lines run reliable names, there are bottles and cans, and anything cocktail-adjacent clocks in at a reasonable price. Service is New York brisk i.e. efficient and unconcerned with ingratiation. But once you’ve proved yourself to not be a jerk, they’ll warm to you. That is, until it gets packed and you gum up the works by ordering a Ramos Gin Fizz or a single Lemondrop shot or something equally clueless. Sundays the back room turns into a pocket jazz club hosting The EarRegulars (8–11pm), a swinging set led by Jon-Erik Kellso and Matt Munisteri.
Food follows suit with simple comforts. Shepherd’s Pie ($23), Buffalo Wings ($14), Philly Cheesesteak ($19). Nothing is fussed over, everything is recognizable. If you’re feeling adventurous, the lamb burger is served with tzatziki for $23 and is very tasty. But the 8oz Ear Inn Burger ($20, with salad and potatoes) earns the consensus nod here; the kind of plate whose eating is a matter of muscle memory.
The Ear Inn wears its years with a shrug–neighborhood saloon first, node of city memory second. The room can fill up on weekends. Catch it on a weeknight. Come with a friend, a date, a book and be reminded that the city still has rooms that couldn’t care less about a social media following and couldn’t care less who you are so long as you behave, buy a round, and tip like there’s a soul rattling around in there.