If there’s anyone who can take a former underground gentlemen’s club and turn it into a lava-hot spot right now, it’s Swillhouse. If you’re not familiar with the name, you sure as hell love their venues. Who amongst us hasn't had a romantic rendezvous at Hubert? Knocked back one too many Whisky Apples at The Baxter Inn? Reminisced about sweaty gigs at Frankie’s Pizza? You get the gist.
Unlike most big openings, there was no carefully curated Instagram build-up about The Caterpillar Club, no months-long PR strategy. On a Wednesday in December, the team announced they were open with a walk-through video of the venue. Immediately, they caught us: hook, line and sinker. The excitement felt akin to New Year’s Eve when you’re 16 and about to see your crush, and by night two there was already a line snaking outside. Fast-forward a few months to April, and the caterpillar's tail is growing by the day.
The Caterpillar Club’s entrance is just off Martin Place. Walking in you’ll first see a gigantic black and white piece by artist Allie Webb. Frilly lights hang from above and the walls are painted burgundy. We descend the stairs and open a door to get inside. It’s clear we’ve stepped into something special.
The space is L-shaped and curves around like a caterpillar, anchored by the longest bar I have ever seen. Abstract works by Webb charm from the walls, and dozens more of those frilly lights create a warm glow. Behind the bar are thousands of old-school records. There’s a DJ booth dow
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The saying goes that good things come in small packages. It has never seemed more true than sitting on a stool one Sunday afternoon at Hey Rosey, Orange’s anchovy-tin-sized wine bar on Summer Street (the site was a locksmith in its former life, so that helps you picture just how small it is).
Funky art and vintage posters dress the walls alongside vintage knick knacks, jars of pickles and booze. There’s a retro lime-green light next to a record spinning vinyl hits and, down the back, a few tables of four. There’s a kind of effortlessly cool Melburnian magic to Hey Rosey, and even the view outside – looking out to a kebab shop, tobacconist and a Chinese restaurant – makes you feel like you could be somewhere along Fitzroy Street – not in the countryside.
But one glance down at the by-the-glass list – which mostly features wines from Orange and Mudgee, alongside beers from Bathurst, plus Martinis, Spritzes and a couple of vinos from Europe – makes it clear where I am.
I can’t not start with a glass of ‘Hey Rosé’ by Tristian Clark, a 2023 sparkling rosé blend of shiraz, sangiovese, zinfandel and merlot grapes from Mudgee. Light pink with soft bubbles, it tastes like strawberries and picnics in the sunshine. I’ll have another, please.
A couple walks in and takes a seat next to me, and co-owner Leigh Oliver welcomes them by name, knows their order and, soon enough, two Limoncello Spritzes are placed down in front of them, with lasagna on the way. How good.
Holding the fort alongsi
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Complete with ‘Schnit + Schooner Tuesdays’, a famed sticky date pudding, and (so Brits remember what country they’re in) Foster’s by the tinnie – The Lady Hampshire is a pub steeped in Australiana. And that’s before you get to the bar-length mural of Aussie icons past and present, featuring a croc-cradling Steve Irwin, a torch-wielding Cathy Freeman and a yard-sculling Bob Hawke.
Built in 1911, the Camperdown pub was reopened in 2023 by Public Hospitality, whose expanding Sydney footprint already includes The Strand Hotel in Darlinghurst and Oxford House and El Primo Sanchez in Paddington, amongst (many) others.
Further west, they’ve managed to retain a scrappy charm that harks back to The Lady Hampshire’s former life. Outside, dozens of kegs are piled along pavement on Parramatta Road. Inside, patrons’ dogs roam a rug-thrown floor.
Some of the menu items aren’t available. For others, the staff have to nip over the road to grab the ingredients. Despite buzzing with people, it sometimes feels like they’re making it up as they go along.
But it fits. The walls are messy with wonky frames and pinned-up beer mats. The sprawling beer garden is pieced together with recycled furniture. The stage, with its velvet curtains and Persian carpet, feels like an elaborate living room arrangement.
The cocktail list reverts to the Australiana theme, with names like Bloody Howard, Dark & Warney and The Lazenby. The Lazenby, like the man himself, is an Aussie-fied take on 007. Inspired by James
There’s a lot to like about Lokal, a tiny wine bar situated on a sunny corner in Surry Hills, across the road from The Cricketers. But at the top of the list is that it’s a two-man operation. There are no other floor staff, no kitchen hands, nada. It's all run by Patrick Frawley and Nelson Cramp, who met moons ago working overseas and reconnected over their shared dream of opening their own place. Like hot chips and tomato sauce, their skill sets complement each other well. Frawley, an expert on grown-up grape juice, previously served as head sommelier at top hotels in London and Hong Kong, like the Mandarin Oriental. Meanwhile, Cramp feels at home over a chopping board, after earning his stripes at Fairmont Banff Springs in Canada and Porch and Parlour here in Sydney. Together, they opened Lokal in late 2022.
Lokal is truly tiny, seating just 20, so the place lends itself well to date nights and overdue catch-ups. The interiors feature a neutral color palette – warm timber, a concrete and terracotta-coloured floor (there are a few scuff marks), and duck-egg blue walls – with a turquoise-tiled bar. We take a seat at one of the handful of tables outside, the sun’s soft rays nearly wrapping up for the day, with 50 Cent’s tunes on in the background. It’s time for a drink.
Frawley warmly welcomes us and shares a bit about his background. Here’s the second thing to like: he’s picked grapes at 12 of the 14 wineries that feature on the by-the-glass list (made up of the usual suspect
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Sydney’s new basement bar Now & Then could be in worse company. Its Clarence Street spot is within bar-hopping distance from the likes of Cantina OK! and Old Mate’s Place, both of which have achieved something approaching cult status in recent years. Those two venues, though, have carved out their own novel market share: Cantina OK! as a standing-room-only micro mezcal bar; Old Mate’s Place boasting a 102-steps-high open-air deck in the midst of the city.
So it’s probably no wonder Now & Then has gone concept-heavy too. Co-owner Natalie Ng, who also owns fellow CBD venue Door Knock, has written a double-sided drinks menu: it has a “Now” list that features in-vogue, modern-era recipes, and a “Then” list which includes a bunch of vintage cocktails lifted from the history books.
A small blip in the formula is that there’s no real telling which side is which. There are toblerone- and fruit cobbler-themed drinks filed under “Then”, while minor edits to old-school cocktails like the Southside and Manhattan are defined as “Now”. It’s a little muddled, and might benefit from a clearer divide.
Confusion aside, there’s no need to panic: the drinks are up to scratch. For those who like their cocktails to taste like chocolate milk, the Tobler’s Toblerone is a foamy dessert-like tipple. With notes of nougat and honey and topped with curls of grated Toblerone, it washes down smoothly with a gentle kick of rum.
Ready to Rumball is another rummy sweetener, a swirl of chocolate, dark fruits a
The rainbow freedom flags festooned around the terrace at The Waratah remind those visiting Sydney for its annual Mardi Gras that they will be warmly welcomed here. The newly renovated bar is just a few feather boa lengths from the main parade route, where revellers take to the streets each year to celebrate gay pride.
But it’s not just the LGBTQI+ community The Waratah pays its respects to. The menu reads like a love letter to Australian producers, with multiple pages of its menu dedicated to a revolving list of hero producers that change with the seasons. The two-storey terrace has been given a very careful nip and tuck that is in line with its 1950s heritage. It’s the first venue for Pollen Hospitality co-founders Cynthia Litster and Evan Stroeve (Australian Bartender of the year 2021 and ex-Bulletin Place, The Baxter Inn, Re and Shady Pines), who already have their eye on a second venue in the CBD.
A table on the terrace at The ’Tah, as it’s affectionately known, is considered prime real estate for people-watching long after the last of Mardi Gras’ dancing queens have dispersed. The Waratah’s proximity to St Vincent’s Hospital makes it a popular place for emergency responders and medics to meet up after work. Oxford St and the Australian Museum are also nearby and both are brimming with tourists, who make up a major part of Darlinghurst’s colourful fabric.
The striking space designed by Farago Han Studio (Atlas Bar, Singapore; Time Hotel, New York) features everything fr
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Historic pub refurbishments can be divisive, but the public houses of the Balmain Peninsula are so plentiful that they really do cater to every taste and budget. There are craft-beer castles, staunch lager safehouses, tropical beer gardens, bistros serving the best of British fare, unofficial footy fan clubs, and high fashion Italian dining destinations hiding behind a heritage-listed facade. And as surely as Balmain’s demographic has shifted over the decades from proudly working class to double income families who enjoy a water view, so too have many of its pubs adjusted to cater to a crowd who speak fluent wine list.
Which brings us to the latest glow-up for the Dry Dock Hotel, a lesser-known watering hole right down near the shores of Mort Bay. The bones of the building still share some residual DNA with the pub frequented by dock workers way back in the mid 1800s. The ghosts of patrons past might recognise the stone fireplace, leather seats and inviting glow of backlit whisky, but everything else is designed with modern comforts in mind.
Especially the dining room, cleverly concealed to ensure the public bar retains a sense of cosy intimacy. The whole space opens out into a light, bright bistro with a big open kitchen and an ice bar in pride of place stocked with oysters and caviar. This is not the venue you hit up the day before payday. But in the era of ‘cozzie livs’ there are a number of little hacks here that stretch your hard-earned further.
If you’re a group of four
February 2024 update: Pioneering zero-waste bar, Re, has closed. Opened in 2021 by cocktail-gun Matt Whiley, the accolade- and attention-grabbing bar won hearts for its seriously impressive cocktails made from wacky ingredients – think chicken feet caramel – and its complete commitment to sustainability. In fact, we loved Re so much the bar won our Best Innovation Award 2023. Whiley alongside co-owner Maurice Terzini (also Icebergs Dining Room and Bar, Snack Kitchen) cited tough post-Covid conditions and the Eveleigh location for the bar's closure. But it’s not all bad news, and thankfully not the last we will see and taste of Whiley, as he heads up the creative drinks at new debauchery-den Pleasure Club, as well as opening a new venue in the former La Salut bar-restaurant in Redfern’s Norfolk Hotel. Watch this space.
- Avril Treasure
Read on for our review of Re by Mel Woodley from August 2023.
*****
At first glimpse, Re is like any other high-end bar: dimly lit with terrazzo tabletops, designer stools, patrons sipping cocktails from fancy glassware and sharing platters of cheese. But what you’re looking at is a bar built entirely on waste (and it’s much more impressive than that description might suggest).
You won’t stumble across Re on a night out in the city, considering it’s hidden in a historic locomotive workshop in the recently restored South Eveleigh precinct. While the bar might not benefit from bustling foot traffic, this off-the-beaten-path spot has given hospital
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Walking down King Street without a plan can be an awful thing. There are obviously too many restaurants and bars in the two-kilometre stretch for anyone to make a sound decision. What makes it even harder is when the best options aren’t even visible. In this case, Huelo’s auburn-framed storefront seems to spend most of its day obscured by the cone-gripping spillover from its noisy neighbour Mapo. But its charm is in being unassuming. And even once you’re inside you can’t see the half of it.
You’ll likely be greeted by the warm and disarming Swan 'Swanny' Kanongataa – formerly shouldering general manager duties at big-name venues Bistecca and The Rover (‘Swanny’ co-owns Huelo alongside Dre Walters from Old Mate’s Place, and Ginny’s Canoe Club). Patrons can hang out over a cocktail or two in the store, between walls lined with beautiful containers of pasta, tinned fish and other “small goods”, while peering out to the bustling street.
But unbeknownst to the spontaneous visitor, the two-storey spot once home to late-night bar True Romance, opens up into three hidden spaces via a sneaky door at the back of the shop. There’s a tiny 12-seat bar room, a slightly roomier outdoor courtyard, and yet another cocktail lounge upstairs. On a hot summer evening, the plant-studded back garden is the place to be. While the upstairs space with its sofas, mood lighting and pulsing beats is where to take a nightcap until 2am.
But while blood might rush at the prospect of yet more choice, Huelo (
Some Sydney restaurants are “inspired by” eateries from other lands. Others, like Deux Freres, can transport you directly to somewhere on the other side of the world. This laneway pintxos bar plucks you right out of your Circular Quay surrounds and plonks you, magically, into one of the tiny bars that Spain’s Basque country is famous for. And right now there’s no place I’d rather be.
As I sit at the marble-top bar – tightly packed in between my dining companion and a stranger on the other side – I watch the staff behind the counter prepping bar snacks centred around cured meats, Spanish and French cheeses, and crusty bread. Pintxos comes from the Spanish verb “pinchar” meaning to poke/prick – because the snacks are generally served with a toothpick to hold them together.
It’s drinking food, and the drinks menu takes you on a journey from vermouth to Spanish and French wines to beer, as well as spirits. We order a carafe of Spanish red, a 2016 tempranillo that tastes the way I like it to taste – just the right balance of rich and mellow; highly drinkable in warm weather.
We start with gildas. The tiny fish fillets skewered between two green olives, two little wedges of lemon, all doused in bright-yellow oil, deliver irresistible pops of salt that get my taste buds ready for all the treats to come.
Behind the counter sit colourful plates filled with little slices of baguette, smothered with big dollops of creamy brie, a touch of honey, some walnuts, then topped with a slice o
There is a demonic gargoyle on the bar at the Absinthe Salon, a poster of Marilyn Manson on the wall and our waitress is wearing a tight, leather corset. The bar itself, just beyond the bottle shop you pass through upon entering, is aiming for La Belle Époque – French-style café seating, a green fairy splashed across one wall – but the overall feel is a little more Rob Zombie than Moulin Rouge. And we can get down with that. Especially when a pre-dinner drink at the Absinthe Salon is so much fun.
Once you're seated, one of the waitresses working the floor will float over and explain what absinthe is (anise-flavoured spirit, highly alcoholic, made more complex with different herbs); what absinthe isn't ("it is not a hallucinogenic, but it will make you feel amazing"); and how to drink it. Here, she will demonstrate: ice is placed in the lamp-like absinthe fountain on your table, along with water; a cube of sugar is sat on an absinthe spoon above your glass; and a faucet on the fountain is turned so that water drips onto the cube, slowly dissolving the sugar as it trickles down into your glass of absinthe below. The green liquid grows cloudy and you begin to smell the herbs.
It's an elaborate process, so reserve time if you're popping in. And do take their advice: while the more potent absinthe varieties here are more interesting and complex (up to 75 per cent proof), start with something milder (like the Francois Guy, from Pontarlier, 45 per cent proof) if, like us, you're a
The Angel Hotel in the CBD is a time capsule for old-school inner-city drinking. Don’t get us wrong. Come 5pm our city’s workforce still hit the bars with undiminished ferocity, but with the influx of small bars, cocktail caves, craft beer barns and high-end establishments, the old-fashioned boozer slinging pints and pies is a dying breed. They like the old ways at the Angel so we get called sweetie when we order a frosty schooner of Coopers, but we’re not sweet enough to get access to the 100 Pints Club. The engraved glasses hung above the low wooden bar are all that remains of this defunct, and no doubt merry, club. The bar is laid with beautiful, ornate tiles and the windows out onto Angel Place are the kind of rippled stained glass that wouldn’t look out of place in a Victorian manor. There’s a dedicated sandwich menu at lunchtime; after work you can get a pie or sausage roll from the warmer behind the bar; or there’s always a bag of crisps. They keep things similarly stripped back on the taps. There’s Coopers Green, Heineken, Super Dry, New, James Squires Pale Ale and a cider. It’s not a huge range but they are cold, clean and properly poured. Below ground is where they keep the gaming lounge and upstairs is a worn-in lounge bar with red velvet chairs, chesterfields and ornate lampshades that look like they were borrowed from a Parisian cat-house. Never change, old friend.
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In the basement of a heritage warehouse in Sydney’s CBD you’ll find a Sicilian-inspired cocktail bar named for the ill-fated wife of Michael Corleone in Francis Ford Coppola's 1972 mobster masterpiece, The Godfather. But don’t let that put you off. For those of us who have been lying about having seen The Godfather their whole lives, good news. Every page of the drinks menu will run you through the storyline (spoilers lie within, but it’s literally been 50 years) so you can impress your date with cinematic knowledge while sipping on a Letter Never Sent, a standout concoction of wheat vodka, honey liquor, pineapple, clove, housemade almond syrup and fresh nutmeg, shaken and served over ice.
Dimly lit and dramatic as the movie itself, Apollonia is, by sheer geography alone, a triumph. Carved into the sandstone bedrock of Customs House, the hand-chipped, 150-year-old walls have been ambitiously transported to the 21st century, with accents of marble bars, deeply stained wooden finishes, mismatched tiles and red leather banquette seating. The vibe is sophisticated and plush, a naturally cosy cave with dark carpeted flooring that we suspect this will be a top after-work date bar for years to come. With gold and velvet finishings and abundant in (oh, so flattering) candlelight, Apollonia is a little bit fancy with an effortlessly cool and approachable atmosphere that makes you feel like you’ve been let in on a secret. From the friendly hostess greeting you behind velvet curtains at
One of Redfern’s original small bars is still as loud, fairy-lit and friendly as ever. And cheap. Where else can you get a eminently drinkable semillon sauvignon for six bucks and a grilled ham cheese and tomato sandwich for a fiver, other than student housing?
There is a wonderful reliability to any visit to Arcadia. It’s always full but somehow you can manage to rustle up a bar stool or one of those vintage metal chairs, or find a spot out in the brick courtyard featuring many hanging plants and all the nautical paintings available at Vinnies. Since the smoking laws changed the back is saved for the smokers – if you’re hanging out for a chicken or ham and salami sarnie off the fancy toastie menu, stick to indoor seats.
They haven’t changed much since first opening – if it ain’t broke and all that – which means there’s still three beer taps featuring something German and two local brews – Tooheys was not invited to this party. You can also still get a $14 Negroni or Manhattan, because apparently bar owners Dave Jank and Brett Pritchard refuse to be hostages to inflation. Or maybe they’re just really busy over at their second venue just across the road, a Euro-style trattoria called Redfern Continental with another cracking little bar out the back.
Early Rolling Stones are on the stereo, but they’re almost drowned out by the hubbub of animated chat ricocheting off the exposed brick walls – this is not the place for a quiet catch-up, it’s where you add a little sparkle to your
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Ever since they pulled the dust cloths off the shining copper stills in the distillery back in March of 2014 and started pumping out gin, vodka, rum and white rye we’ve been singing the praises of this impressive operation located on Rosebery’s most innovative block. Not only is it one of Sydney's most beautiful bars, the local edge and carefully crafted spirits do nothing but add to the romance.
Under the watchful eye of head of hospitality, Harriet Leigh (ex Hazy Rose and Henrietta Supper Club) you can be sure they're stirring up a five-star house gin Martini with a precise brine balance. You are in very good hands here.
A gutsy cocktail list is ever evolving and playful, with tipples like the Papaya Don't Preach; a concoction of Archie Rose Native Botanical Vodka, blood orange, lime, papaya, peach, pineapple and chili salt; The Pear Necessities that combines Archie Rose Distiller’s Strength Gin, bergamot, lavender, lemon, pear and sparkling wine; or the Baby Got Mac – Archie Rose White Rye, citrus, coconut, wattleseed, macadamia and mango. As well as investing in the use of native botanicals, the crew at Archie Rose don't shy away from a dizzying number of collabs with other local legends. A glance at the cocktail list boasts input from the Sydney Opera House, Blasphemy Coffee and even the Sydney Cricket Ground.
The room is the last word in industrial elegance. It’s separated from the distillery by a heavy-duty metal grille and a wall of spirit barrels. On the bar side, th
Officially, this little pub on Oxford Street is called the Arts Bar. However locals and old timers will often refer to it as the Rose Shamrock and Thistle, or even the Three Weeds: it depends on who you’re talking to. Arts Bar makes sense, given its proximity to the College of Fine Arts. Though it’s housed in a beautiful Art Deco Building there’s nothing hifalutin about this public house. It’s got the cream mottled tiles and multiple doorways opening out onto the street of your classic corner boozer and the floor inside is a mix of concrete and tiles – you could easily hose the whole place out if needed. Inside it’s all green and yellow tiles, glowing orange and yellow light boxes, tall stools, swivel chairs and old orange vinyl chairs. They pull a pretty mixed crowd, with young and elastic students talking earnestly about their ‘practice’ and making plans for surfing adventures while retirees sit opposite and share a little late night ice cream out of a curled glass bowl. The variety might be due to the very friendly staff who adopt a more-the-merrier approach, or perhaps it’s the Tuesday special of slow-cooked lamb that’s pulling people through the doors. They pour a decent Kilkenny if you like Irish cream ale, but for our money we’ll take a pint of Young Henrys, Stone and Wood or Murray’s Angry Man instead. They tick the boxes on all the pub food staples, and also do bananas in rum and a chocolate pudding that comes highly recommended by our smiling barman. The Arts Bar is
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You may well be able to lob a tennis ball from George Street to this quiet pedestrian alley but you wouldn’t know it from the relaxed pace of the punters stopping in for a glass of wine at this little bistro. Decompress out in the breezy laneway or up at the bar where French house featuring atmospheric horns keeps the vibe on a low simmer and devote all your remaining energies to the wine menu. They have an internationally diverse, by-the-glass list that lets you sample the wines of Austria, Romania, South Africa, Greece, Argentina, Germany, the US, Chile and Slovenia, in addition to Italy, France, Australia and New Zealand. And the best part is they offer tasting glasses for half the price of a full pour so you take a little tour without breaking the bank. Depending on the weather and the day you’ve had they might steer you towards a bright, fruity Domaine de Beavernay gamay from Beaujolais, or possibly a ribolla gialla from Friuli. There’s not much to the operation here. The open-plan space spills out into the lane and the wine is stored up high in black timber racks. The kitchen can sort out a serious hunger with lamb cutlets or grilled spitchcock, but a rich, golden toastie with jamon and truffled gruyere will also stop hunger in its tracks.
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In case of fire, assemble at the designated meeting spot. In case of thirst, go get cocktails at Assembly. You might not expect an ace bar to be hiding down on the lower ground floor of what is ostensibly a hub of Asian cheap eats, but the buzzy precinct behind the KFC on the corner of George and Bathurst Streets has many secrets. Not only can you get a kooky soft-serve in a halo of fairy floss from Aqua S; a fragrant char kway teo from Sedap Malaysian Kopitiam; and a king’s ransom in rice paper rolls from Miss Chu – there’s booze too. This must be what heaven is like.
When something gets an award everyone wants to get involved – especially if it’s delicious. Sullivans Cove French oak barrel-aged single malt sold out after they won a world whisky award in 2014, and people are still queuing for a taste of the mandorla affogato gelato from Cow and the Moon. And at Assembly you can order a stack of award-winning cocktails. The Linda Russian, crowned by a 2014 Stoli comp, proves you don’t need an ingredient list a mile long to make a good drink. Almond syrup is an excellent foil to the zingy punch of fresh pineapple juice – and with a glug of vodka in the mix you’ve got a summer refresher that demands an encore.
The up’n’go qualities of a Vodka Espresso are perfect fuel before a gig over at the Metro, but these guys have chucked out the vodka and are shaking up rum, Frangelico, Kahlua and cold drip coffee, and the results are excellent.
There are a ridiculous number of dining opt
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There’s something to be said for setting up your brewery and pub in the North West of Sydney – there’s a lot of space out this way. The Australian Hotel and Brewery (conveniently located next door to Bunnings, FYI) is set on a massive block just off Old Winsor Road. From the outside it looks like a warehouse with an enormous parking lot. But inside it’s a pub-lovers Disneyland. It’s been kitted out in good Australian fashion with exposed brick, warm lighting, raw timber and rusty iron decorations. In addition to housing the brewery itself they’ve got a spacious bistro, sports bar, pokies lounge and games room, plus an enormous bar operating at the centre of everything. Love watching sport but hate sitting on a bar stool? They’ve got cushy leather recliners lined up like a mini sports cinema. Brought your ankle biters with you? Here they have a dedicated kids club with a jungle gym and a super-soft play area for really tiny humans. They even host kids birthday parties. When you have the same amount of space as a standard Chippendale block you can do whatever you damn well please. They keep a collection of standard lagers on tap but the interesting stuff here is the brews they make on site. Their Mexican lager served with fresh lime is a light, summery glass of refreshment, but if you aren’t afraid of some forceful flavours go the extra hoppy ale – a coppery amber ale with a fresh, bitter finish. They also make a pilsner, pale ale, strong Belgium golden ale, steam ale, amber la
At Bacco, you can eat, drink or simply get some pastries to go. But we like to drink. The cocktail list will be right up your alley if you like floral, fruity drinks but you can totally ignore the list if your tastes run to straighter stuff - the bar staff are incredibly accomplished and can make anything you hit them with. If you do order off the list, try the Caesar's Cup - served long, it's a mix of gin, red wine and house-made mint lemonade, garnished with a wedge of grapefruit and a wedge of cucumber. The Giorgio il Bello involves a glass rolled in rhubarb sugar and filled with a mix of Aperol, St Germain elderflower liqueur and pinot grigio, topped with more of that house-made lemonade. Sweet? Yes. Deadly? Most certainly. The L'Arrogante is the winner off the list: tequila, house-made sweet vermouth and fresh squeezed grapefruit served short. If cocktails and spirits aren't your thing, Delicado's Ben Moechtar has put together the wine list. They also give you little snacks (spuntini) through the night. They're gratis, and delicious. The space, designed by Michael McCann, is all warm wood, low, long booths and tinkling, grape-shaped purple lights. Sit up at the bar, admire the huge booze selection, marvel at the cold larder filled with cured meats and raise a glass to Bacchus - the guy that loved a drink.
If there’s anyone who can take a former underground gentlemen’s club and turn it into a lava-hot spot right now, it’s Swillhouse. If you’re not familiar with the name, you sure as hell love their venues. Who amongst us hasn't had a romantic rendezvous at Hubert? Knocked back one too many Whisky Apples at The Baxter Inn? Reminisced about sweaty gigs at Frankie’s Pizza? You get the gist.
Unlike most big openings, there was no carefully curated Instagram build-up about The Caterpillar Club, no months-long PR strategy. On a Wednesday in December, the team announced they were open with a walk-through video of the venue. Immediately, they caught us: hook, line and sinker. The excitement felt akin to New Year’s Eve when you’re 16 and about to see your crush, and by night two there was already a line snaking outside. Fast-forward a few months to April, and the caterpillar's tail is growing by the day.
The Caterpillar Club’s entrance is just off Martin Place. Walking in you’ll first see a gigantic black and white piece by artist Allie Webb. Frilly lights hang from above and the walls are painted burgundy. We descend the stairs and open a door to get inside. It’s clear we’ve stepped into something special.
The space is L-shaped and curves around like a caterpillar, anchored by the longest bar I have ever seen. Abstract works by Webb charm from the walls, and dozens more of those frilly lights create a warm glow. Behind the bar are thousands of old-school records. There’s a DJ booth dow
We spot the candy cane umbrellas first. Red and white striped, they stand tall out the front of Woolloomooloo’s historic Old Fitzroy Hotel. The three-storey brick and butter building looks well-worn yet strong – which makes sense when you consider the Old Fitz is around 150 years old. The pub is surrounded by leafy green trees, punters are out the front knocking back cold ones, and today it’s glowing in the spring sunshine. Just from the exterior, you can tell the old boozer has more character and charm than a new opening could dream of.
Fun fact: The Old Fitzroy Hotel is the only remaining theatre pub in Australia (it’s found out the back and down the stairs). Locals have been coming here for decades to see some of the most interesting and cutting-edge theatre in the country, overseen by Red Line Productions who look after the whole shebang. Our arts & culture editor tells us just last week she saw two of Australia's most legendary cabaret artists – Paul Capsis and iOTA – perform in a reimagining of absurdist classic The Chairs directed by trailblazing director Gale Edwards. Impressive.
Inside, touches of ritz and old-world glamour are juxtaposed with grit and grunge. Sparkling chandeliers drip crystals from the intricate pressed-tin ceiling, and portraits of Australia’s most famous playwrights dress the walls. The furniture is mis-matched, the carpet crimson, and you can tell there’s been many a rollicking late night within those walls. We wish we were there.
A friendly ba
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We've all heard the lowing from our UK expatriate friends about the state of Sydney’s pubs. They're never old enough, cosy enough, or British enough for their liking (the Lord Dudley and the Lord Nelson get close). So what's a former Liverpool boy to do? Open a venue, that’s what, which is why Mikey Enright, gin maestro and owner of the Barber Shop, has extended his booze empire about 10 metres to the right with a proper British establishment named the Duke of Clarence.
Yes, it is the door directly opposite the one that leads you down to the whisky-powered Baxter Inn – things are getting very olde worlde in this neck of the woods. The Duke of Clarence feels like it was designed to bring George Orwell’s famous fantasy pub, the Moon under Water, to life. It boasts all the trappings of a 19th Century tavern, right down to the potted red geraniums above the door. They can pull you a perfect pint of Guinness, but really, this is a bar in pub’s clothing: a slender, licensed slice of the city designed to transport you to a different time and place. The sincerity (and decorating budget) elevates it above a themed bar – everything looks, feels and smells expensive, from the floorboards imported from the UK to the bubbled glass dividers, framed lithographs and the gin-scented handwash in the bathrooms.
In happy news for anyone who manages to squeeze in and find a seat, they do table service so that you don’t have to shoehorn yourself in and out every time you need a fresh, burnt carame
When Shady Pines Saloon opened in 2010, we thought we’d met the bar we wanted to spend the rest of our lives in. Then we met its little brother, the Baxter Inn, and there was a serious challenger for our eternal affections. Of course, we weren’t the only ones enamoured with the backlit wall of whisky, accessible only by scrolling library ladders or by having your well-coiffed bartender climb along the counters like some sort of arborial gentleman. The lines of admirers stretched from outside the tatty door in an old loading dock in the city and almost back out onto Clarence Street.
This is the kind of whisky collection that would make a strong man weak at the knees. The menu board starts at the ceiling and the three-column list eventually sneaks down under the counter and out of sight. Every Islay, Speyside, Highlands, Lowlands and Campbelltown distillery you can’t pronounce – and the small collection you’re confident with – is there, including rare bottlings and unusual releases. What room is left goes to Japanese and Australian spirits, and blends. The liquid assets in this bar could probably buy you property in Sydney.
It’s easy to go amber blind in here and forget that you are sitting in front of some of the best bartenders in the city – but not ordering a cocktail is a squandered opportunity. They have confidence and swagger behind the bar, but it’s been hard earned. They’ve mastered the classics for people who know what they like (Old Pals and Trinidad Sours all round!)
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Suspend your reality for a moment. Imagine it's 1980s Australia and you're a True Blue Bruce. This is truly your time. On the cusp of its five-year birthday, Hawke's Brewing Company, the brewery co-founded by former prime minister Bob Hawke, has thrown open the doors of a flagship venue, housed inside its newly built 2,100 square-metre brewery in Marrickville.
Dubbed the Bob Hawke Beer & Leisure Centre in honour of the company’s late namesake, the club is a cathedralesque space adorned with enormous brew tanks, museum-like pool rooms, and a nostalgic RLS-style Australian-Chinese bistro from one of Sydney's top chefs.
The venue is delivering a full service bar, fronted by ten taps pouring Hawke’s core range beers, plus a rotation of new “One Hit Wonder” limited release styles. The addition of the venue’s Chinese-Australian bistro rounds out the Leisure Centre’s quintessential '80s-pub and community club experience. If your mind is immediately cast back to your childhood of sizzling black bean steak, honey prawns, san choy bao and deep-fried ice cream – in this case, an equally '80s-tastic Vienetta – you're spot on.
Developed by chef Nic Wong (Cho Cho San, CicciaBella), the restaurant, the Lucky Prawn, is serving up RSL classics made for a 2022 palate. Everything is designed to be shared across a Lazy Susan, with tank-fresh beers to wash it all down. If you want the true '80s Australiana experience though, bust out the golden microphone, aka Crown Lager, available for a lofty $
One hundred and two steps. Rooftop bars are not for the faint of quad. But all that thigh-burning just primes you for the reveal: swing open the door at the top and there you are, in a lushly planted oasis in the Sydney skyline. A smiling bartender hands you a VB throwdown while you flip through the menu. A bowtie is slung around their neck unknotted, Rat Pack-style. It might only be a quarter past six down on street level, but up here, it’s always time to take it easy.
Flip through the list: there’s smarts enough behind the smiles to handle whatever classics you might fancy. And where bars on rooftops in other parts of the world might call to mind sun-bleached bottles of Bombora and lychee liqueur, the back bar at Old Mate’s is quite a different matter – the arrangement of malts, Caribbean rums and fine tequilas is nearly as luxuriant as what’s in the planter boxes. Don’t let the VB palate-cleanser fool you: while this is a place where a person can drink a beer in peace (or indeed a glass of wine), Old Mate is all about the cocktails.
Dre Walters (an alumnus of Kittyhawk and Lobo Plantation) and Daniel “Noble” Noble (a friendly face to anyone who has clocked flying hours at Ramblin’ Rascal) have put together a list that marches to the beat of its own drummer, throwing curveballs of toasted poppyseed (the Predecessor), pistachio (the Pistacia) and dehydrated basil (the Retox). They roast peaches to enliven the gin Sour they call Corky’s Lady Killer #2, and do a Strawberry B
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Some Sydney restaurants are “inspired by” eateries from other lands. Others, like Deux Freres, can transport you directly to somewhere on the other side of the world. This laneway pintxos bar plucks you right out of your Circular Quay surrounds and plonks you, magically, into one of the tiny bars that Spain’s Basque country is famous for. And right now there’s no place I’d rather be.
As I sit at the marble-top bar – tightly packed in between my dining companion and a stranger on the other side – I watch the staff behind the counter prepping bar snacks centred around cured meats, Spanish and French cheeses, and crusty bread. Pintxos comes from the Spanish verb “pinchar” meaning to poke/prick – because the snacks are generally served with a toothpick to hold them together.
It’s drinking food, and the drinks menu takes you on a journey from vermouth to Spanish and French wines to beer, as well as spirits. We order a carafe of Spanish red, a 2016 tempranillo that tastes the way I like it to taste – just the right balance of rich and mellow; highly drinkable in warm weather.
We start with gildas. The tiny fish fillets skewered between two green olives, two little wedges of lemon, all doused in bright-yellow oil, deliver irresistible pops of salt that get my taste buds ready for all the treats to come.
Behind the counter sit colourful plates filled with little slices of baguette, smothered with big dollops of creamy brie, a touch of honey, some walnuts, then topped with a slice o
The Cricketers Arms is, arguably, Surry Hills’ – if not Sydney’s – most classic Aussie pub. The fact that they’ve hardly done a thing to the bottom floor and beer garden in decades is what’s given it its charm.
As you enter, there’s a big bar in the centre of the room, with bar stools dotted around it – the kind of space you feel comfortable coming to on your own and pulling up a stool for a chat with the bartender. If you stop by enough times, that bartender – and the strangers next to you – will probably end up being your friends. That’s the type of place the Cricketers is.
There’s a DJ booth next to the bar; a sitting room where they occasionally host bands alongside that; followed by a grungy pool room complete with a purple-topped pool table. All areas of the downstairs pub are connected with sticky old red carpet with a gold pattern that disguises years of fun that pub-goers have had with old friends and new.
Then there’s the beer garden – it’s just old wooden tables and seating packed into an enclosed courtyard lined with simple brick paving, but the space is prettied up with hanging greenery and thousands of tiny fairy lights.
Basically there’s a place in here for everyone – for local barflies and the oldies who’ve been coming here forever, for uni students and skater punks wanting some cheap entertainment, for well-dressed Surry Hills creatives here for a knock-off drink, for live music lovers and those keen to boogie – even for those looking to knock the top off
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In the basement of a heritage warehouse in Sydney’s CBD you’ll find a Sicilian-inspired cocktail bar named for the ill-fated wife of Michael Corleone in Francis Ford Coppola's 1972 mobster masterpiece, The Godfather. But don’t let that put you off. For those of us who have been lying about having seen The Godfather their whole lives, good news. Every page of the drinks menu will run you through the storyline (spoilers lie within, but it’s literally been 50 years) so you can impress your date with cinematic knowledge while sipping on a Letter Never Sent, a standout concoction of wheat vodka, honey liquor, pineapple, clove, housemade almond syrup and fresh nutmeg, shaken and served over ice.
Dimly lit and dramatic as the movie itself, Apollonia is, by sheer geography alone, a triumph. Carved into the sandstone bedrock of Customs House, the hand-chipped, 150-year-old walls have been ambitiously transported to the 21st century, with accents of marble bars, deeply stained wooden finishes, mismatched tiles and red leather banquette seating. The vibe is sophisticated and plush, a naturally cosy cave with dark carpeted flooring that we suspect this will be a top after-work date bar for years to come. With gold and velvet finishings and abundant in (oh, so flattering) candlelight, Apollonia is a little bit fancy with an effortlessly cool and approachable atmosphere that makes you feel like you’ve been let in on a secret. From the friendly hostess greeting you behind velvet curtains at
The saying goes that good things come in small packages. It has never seemed more true than sitting on a stool one Sunday afternoon at Hey Rosey, Orange’s anchovy-tin-sized wine bar on Summer Street (the site was a locksmith in its former life, so that helps you picture just how small it is).
Funky art and vintage posters dress the walls alongside vintage knick knacks, jars of pickles and booze. There’s a retro lime-green light next to a record spinning vinyl hits and, down the back, a few tables of four. There’s a kind of effortlessly cool Melburnian magic to Hey Rosey, and even the view outside – looking out to a kebab shop, tobacconist and a Chinese restaurant – makes you feel like you could be somewhere along Fitzroy Street – not in the countryside.
But one glance down at the by-the-glass list – which mostly features wines from Orange and Mudgee, alongside beers from Bathurst, plus Martinis, Spritzes and a couple of vinos from Europe – makes it clear where I am.
I can’t not start with a glass of ‘Hey Rosé’ by Tristian Clark, a 2023 sparkling rosé blend of shiraz, sangiovese, zinfandel and merlot grapes from Mudgee. Light pink with soft bubbles, it tastes like strawberries and picnics in the sunshine. I’ll have another, please.
A couple walks in and takes a seat next to me, and co-owner Leigh Oliver welcomes them by name, knows their order and, soon enough, two Limoncello Spritzes are placed down in front of them, with lasagna on the way. How good.
Holding the fort alongsi
If there’s anyone who can take a former underground gentlemen’s club and turn it into a lava-hot spot right now, it’s Swillhouse. If you’re not familiar with the name, you sure as hell love their venues. Who amongst us hasn't had a romantic rendezvous at Hubert? Knocked back one too many Whisky Apples at The Baxter Inn? Reminisced about sweaty gigs at Frankie’s Pizza? You get the gist.
Unlike most big openings, there was no carefully curated Instagram build-up about The Caterpillar Club, no months-long PR strategy. On a Wednesday in December, the team announced they were open with a walk-through video of the venue. Immediately, they caught us: hook, line and sinker. The excitement felt akin to New Year’s Eve when you’re 16 and about to see your crush, and by night two there was already a line snaking outside. Fast-forward a few months to April, and the caterpillar's tail is growing by the day.
The Caterpillar Club’s entrance is just off Martin Place. Walking in you’ll first see a gigantic black and white piece by artist Allie Webb. Frilly lights hang from above and the walls are painted burgundy. We descend the stairs and open a door to get inside. It’s clear we’ve stepped into something special.
The space is L-shaped and curves around like a caterpillar, anchored by the longest bar I have ever seen. Abstract works by Webb charm from the walls, and dozens more of those frilly lights create a warm glow. Behind the bar are thousands of old-school records. There’s a DJ booth dow
We spot the candy cane umbrellas first. Red and white striped, they stand tall out the front of Woolloomooloo’s historic Old Fitzroy Hotel. The three-storey brick and butter building looks well-worn yet strong – which makes sense when you consider the Old Fitz is around 150 years old. The pub is surrounded by leafy green trees, punters are out the front knocking back cold ones, and today it’s glowing in the spring sunshine. Just from the exterior, you can tell the old boozer has more character and charm than a new opening could dream of.
Fun fact: The Old Fitzroy Hotel is the only remaining theatre pub in Australia (it’s found out the back and down the stairs). Locals have been coming here for decades to see some of the most interesting and cutting-edge theatre in the country, overseen by Red Line Productions who look after the whole shebang. Our arts & culture editor tells us just last week she saw two of Australia's most legendary cabaret artists – Paul Capsis and iOTA – perform in a reimagining of absurdist classic The Chairs directed by trailblazing director Gale Edwards. Impressive.
Inside, touches of ritz and old-world glamour are juxtaposed with grit and grunge. Sparkling chandeliers drip crystals from the intricate pressed-tin ceiling, and portraits of Australia’s most famous playwrights dress the walls. The furniture is mis-matched, the carpet crimson, and you can tell there’s been many a rollicking late night within those walls. We wish we were there.
A friendly ba
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We've all heard the lowing from our UK expatriate friends about the state of Sydney’s pubs. They're never old enough, cosy enough, or British enough for their liking (the Lord Dudley and the Lord Nelson get close). So what's a former Liverpool boy to do? Open a venue, that’s what, which is why Mikey Enright, gin maestro and owner of the Barber Shop, has extended his booze empire about 10 metres to the right with a proper British establishment named the Duke of Clarence.
Yes, it is the door directly opposite the one that leads you down to the whisky-powered Baxter Inn – things are getting very olde worlde in this neck of the woods. The Duke of Clarence feels like it was designed to bring George Orwell’s famous fantasy pub, the Moon under Water, to life. It boasts all the trappings of a 19th Century tavern, right down to the potted red geraniums above the door. They can pull you a perfect pint of Guinness, but really, this is a bar in pub’s clothing: a slender, licensed slice of the city designed to transport you to a different time and place. The sincerity (and decorating budget) elevates it above a themed bar – everything looks, feels and smells expensive, from the floorboards imported from the UK to the bubbled glass dividers, framed lithographs and the gin-scented handwash in the bathrooms.
In happy news for anyone who manages to squeeze in and find a seat, they do table service so that you don’t have to shoehorn yourself in and out every time you need a fresh, burnt carame
Dining fashions may come and go, but drinking Spritzes with ocean views and a corps of Sydney’s most beautiful people at neighbouring tables will never go out of style.
And speaking of style, Icebergs Dining Room and Bar is also one of the few places in the city where you can wear a boxfresh white T-shirt and a broad-brimmed white hat to dinner in the middle of July and not look out of place – the Bondi dress code is trans-seasonal. So for that matter, is the appeal of classic Italian food, and even if the water is so cold you can’t feel your face, we still like to be near it, which is what makes Icebergs such a good-times triple threat.
Head chef Monty Koludrovic walks the walk on the local produce front with a plate of tomato slices arranged into spirals of pantone reds and pinks, scantily dressed in olive oil, salt, pepper and fresh basil, served with an orb of buffalo burrata sporting more sweet little leaves than a country lane. A dish like this has nowhere to hide if those ripe fruit are sub par. They’re not, obviously, because Koludrovic goes to the Eveleigh Markets to select them weekly. It’s also where he is sourcing the umami-bomb potatoes that are grown wrapped in seaweed so that they absorb the savoury flavour of the sea vegetable as they grow. Those super-charged spuds are destined to accompany buttery soft grilled lamb loin, sticky braised lamb neck and blushed radishes in a ginger jus.
If any dish was going to reconcile the city’s suspicions about risotto after
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When Shady Pines Saloon opened in 2010, we thought we’d met the bar we wanted to spend the rest of our lives in. Then we met its little brother, the Baxter Inn, and there was a serious challenger for our eternal affections. Of course, we weren’t the only ones enamoured with the backlit wall of whisky, accessible only by scrolling library ladders or by having your well-coiffed bartender climb along the counters like some sort of arborial gentleman. The lines of admirers stretched from outside the tatty door in an old loading dock in the city and almost back out onto Clarence Street.
This is the kind of whisky collection that would make a strong man weak at the knees. The menu board starts at the ceiling and the three-column list eventually sneaks down under the counter and out of sight. Every Islay, Speyside, Highlands, Lowlands and Campbelltown distillery you can’t pronounce – and the small collection you’re confident with – is there, including rare bottlings and unusual releases. What room is left goes to Japanese and Australian spirits, and blends. The liquid assets in this bar could probably buy you property in Sydney.
It’s easy to go amber blind in here and forget that you are sitting in front of some of the best bartenders in the city – but not ordering a cocktail is a squandered opportunity. They have confidence and swagger behind the bar, but it’s been hard earned. They’ve mastered the classics for people who know what they like (Old Pals and Trinidad Sours all round!)
Beauty and convenience don’t always go hand in hand, but Opera Bar is a glam exception to the rule. It manages to be both one of the most enviably located bars in the city as well as its most advantageous spot for a pre-show drink. On the day you snag a seat facing the Harbour Bridge up on the raised promenade you should go buy a lottery ticket, because lady luck has smiled on you. The tables up there are prized for scenic boozing the way a hilltop fortress and a cellar full of potatoes are coveted during a siege.
If you want to complete the perfect Sydney Instagram pic with a cocktail they have about a dozen concoctions that favour sweet, fruity, brightly coloured ingredients designed to pop with the right filter. We recommend ordering a classic instead – a Negroni is never a bad idea – but there is no fault to be found with a round of tall, crisp glasses of Peroni, either. In fact, your cash dollars and good times will go a lot further if you stick to the taps that offer Endeavour’s Grower’s pale ale, Little Creatures Pilsner, James Squire 150 Lashes, and the house organic pale ale. You can order high-end pub staples that hover around the $30 mark if you’re stinging for a hot meal, but a night at the Opera House is still a treat worth savouring. Grazing is the optimal snack pace here. There’s a set cheese and meat board on the menu, but it’s worth wandering over to the dedicated small goods counter if you want to pick’n’mix. Given you’re already sipping sparkling by the har
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One hundred and two steps. Rooftop bars are not for the faint of quad. But all that thigh-burning just primes you for the reveal: swing open the door at the top and there you are, in a lushly planted oasis in the Sydney skyline. A smiling bartender hands you a VB throwdown while you flip through the menu. A bowtie is slung around their neck unknotted, Rat Pack-style. It might only be a quarter past six down on street level, but up here, it’s always time to take it easy.
Flip through the list: there’s smarts enough behind the smiles to handle whatever classics you might fancy. And where bars on rooftops in other parts of the world might call to mind sun-bleached bottles of Bombora and lychee liqueur, the back bar at Old Mate’s is quite a different matter – the arrangement of malts, Caribbean rums and fine tequilas is nearly as luxuriant as what’s in the planter boxes. Don’t let the VB palate-cleanser fool you: while this is a place where a person can drink a beer in peace (or indeed a glass of wine), Old Mate is all about the cocktails.
Dre Walters (an alumnus of Kittyhawk and Lobo Plantation) and Daniel “Noble” Noble (a friendly face to anyone who has clocked flying hours at Ramblin’ Rascal) have put together a list that marches to the beat of its own drummer, throwing curveballs of toasted poppyseed (the Predecessor), pistachio (the Pistacia) and dehydrated basil (the Retox). They roast peaches to enliven the gin Sour they call Corky’s Lady Killer #2, and do a Strawberry B
Some Sydney restaurants are “inspired by” eateries from other lands. Others, like Deux Freres, can transport you directly to somewhere on the other side of the world. This laneway pintxos bar plucks you right out of your Circular Quay surrounds and plonks you, magically, into one of the tiny bars that Spain’s Basque country is famous for. And right now there’s no place I’d rather be.
As I sit at the marble-top bar – tightly packed in between my dining companion and a stranger on the other side – I watch the staff behind the counter prepping bar snacks centred around cured meats, Spanish and French cheeses, and crusty bread. Pintxos comes from the Spanish verb “pinchar” meaning to poke/prick – because the snacks are generally served with a toothpick to hold them together.
It’s drinking food, and the drinks menu takes you on a journey from vermouth to Spanish and French wines to beer, as well as spirits. We order a carafe of Spanish red, a 2016 tempranillo that tastes the way I like it to taste – just the right balance of rich and mellow; highly drinkable in warm weather.
We start with gildas. The tiny fish fillets skewered between two green olives, two little wedges of lemon, all doused in bright-yellow oil, deliver irresistible pops of salt that get my taste buds ready for all the treats to come.
Behind the counter sit colourful plates filled with little slices of baguette, smothered with big dollops of creamy brie, a touch of honey, some walnuts, then topped with a slice o
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Historic pub refurbishments can be divisive, but the public houses of the Balmain Peninsula are so plentiful that they really do cater to every taste and budget. There are craft-beer castles, staunch lager safehouses, tropical beer gardens, bistros serving the best of British fare, unofficial footy fan clubs, and high fashion Italian dining destinations hiding behind a heritage-listed facade. And as surely as Balmain’s demographic has shifted over the decades from proudly working class to double income families who enjoy a water view, so too have many of its pubs adjusted to cater to a crowd who speak fluent wine list.
Which brings us to the latest glow-up for the Dry Dock Hotel, a lesser-known watering hole right down near the shores of Mort Bay. The bones of the building still share some residual DNA with the pub frequented by dock workers way back in the mid 1800s. The ghosts of patrons past might recognise the stone fireplace, leather seats and inviting glow of backlit whisky, but everything else is designed with modern comforts in mind.
Especially the dining room, cleverly concealed to ensure the public bar retains a sense of cosy intimacy. The whole space opens out into a light, bright bistro with a big open kitchen and an ice bar in pride of place stocked with oysters and caviar. This is not the venue you hit up the day before payday. But in the era of ‘cozzie livs’ there are a number of little hacks here that stretch your hard-earned further.
If you’re a group of four
The Cricketers Arms is, arguably, Surry Hills’ – if not Sydney’s – most classic Aussie pub. The fact that they’ve hardly done a thing to the bottom floor and beer garden in decades is what’s given it its charm.
As you enter, there’s a big bar in the centre of the room, with bar stools dotted around it – the kind of space you feel comfortable coming to on your own and pulling up a stool for a chat with the bartender. If you stop by enough times, that bartender – and the strangers next to you – will probably end up being your friends. That’s the type of place the Cricketers is.
There’s a DJ booth next to the bar; a sitting room where they occasionally host bands alongside that; followed by a grungy pool room complete with a purple-topped pool table. All areas of the downstairs pub are connected with sticky old red carpet with a gold pattern that disguises years of fun that pub-goers have had with old friends and new.
Then there’s the beer garden – it’s just old wooden tables and seating packed into an enclosed courtyard lined with simple brick paving, but the space is prettied up with hanging greenery and thousands of tiny fairy lights.
Basically there’s a place in here for everyone – for local barflies and the oldies who’ve been coming here forever, for uni students and skater punks wanting some cheap entertainment, for well-dressed Surry Hills creatives here for a knock-off drink, for live music lovers and those keen to boogie – even for those looking to knock the top off
Looking for the best of the best
We scoured the city to find the best drinks, greatest chat, most perfectly crafted playlists, tastiest snacks and top vibes to be had in Sydney. We put our livers and our sleep patterns on the line to bring you, dear reader, a comprehensive guide to the best bars in town.
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