Street Snack Vol 1: What Great Bars Can Teach Public Spaces
The first in an ongoing series of interviews at the intersection of food, drink, and planning
This is the first in an ongoing series of interviews called Street Snack about the planning forces that shape a city’s eating and drinking scene. If you want to know a place, look at how its people eat and drink. I could tell you that New York is a city on the go, multi-national, elbows out… Or you could experience the pleasing cacophony of shouted orders in English and Spanish and packed counter at Johns’ Diner on Myrtle Ave. As I’ve said, laws, regulations, zoning, etc all influence the food and drink culture of cities. Throughout this series, we’ll talk outdoor dining programs, food markets, real estate trends, and more. But today, we’re talking about bars. Last week, I treated my friend Nick to New York’s Tenement Museum where we toured a reconstruction of an 1860’s Lower East Side German Beer (Bier) saloon. Nick has no professional bar experience, but there isn’t anyone I know who thinks more deeply about bars. After touring the saloon, which doubled as a German family’s living quarters, we retreated to Iona in Williamsburg to discuss all things bar—third places, funny decorations, and lessons that good bars have to teach public spaces. At the end, I asked Nick to list his favorite watering holes — definitely stick around for that (and thanks to my friend Clara for the logo, @doodledeli on ig).
Matt: I want to talk about what makes bars great places and extract lessons for public spaces and placemakers, but I want to start with the exhibit we just saw.
Nick: Sounds good. What did you think about it?
Matt: The bar was a living room for people who didn’t have actual living rooms, and in places, it’s probably still that. We learned about how these German saloons were some of the early poster children for anti-alcohol temperance activists and the city ended up taking regulatory action against them many decades before prohibition.
Nick: For sure, also they’re a meeting point for these social clubs and groups. It’s basically a clubhouse but you don’t actually need to be a member. If you want to catch up with friends, meet with your group, this is the place. This is obvious, but the internet is our forum for a lot of that now.
Matt: Are you telling me the bar was the 1800’s internet?
Nick: I’m telling you the bar was probably the most efficient place to gossip and find out what the fuck was going on. Even in the museum’s reconstruction, there is a rack with the day’s newspapers on the wall.
Matt: I thought that was funny. That’s something I might see in a hotel or coffee shop, but not a bar. It says something about the use of saloons as third spaces that there was so much reading material and kid’s stuff around. Let’s shift gears. We’ve traveled together, I feel like you make a point to go to a bar in places you visit.
Nick: Absolutely, my immediate move when traveling or when I’m in a new city is to go to an “authentic” bar. A place I’m reasonably assured that people who live there go. I can quickly meet people who are from that place, and get a lay of the land. Like that totally cooked bar we went to in Philly.
Matt: The one where they were friends with us all night but then put on Kung Fu Fighting when you asked if you could change the song (Nick is half Chinese). Some amazing accents in there.
Nick: Yeah, not to let one place speak for a whole neighborhood but I kind of got to say ‘ok, this is certainly one type of f-ed up person who lives in this area.’ Or when we went to Ye Olde Mitre and London and all those lawyers were having pints together. For me I instantly knew, ok this must be part of the vibe of this neighborhood.
Matt: And sure enough, we were not far from the courts and The Temple ( London’s legal district). Which at the time I didn’t even know.
Nick: It had a very old boys vibe and I was wondering what dastardly stuff these fellas must have been up to.
Matt: Streets are transient, people pass through, but people gather in bars so if you want to see a slice of a city’s society in a natural habitat you park yourself at one.
Nick: Also people are much more open to getting to know someone at a bar. It’s not just observing them. It’s pretty hard to have a low-stakes conversation that might lead to something more. And sometimes people are like ‘leave me alone, I’m just trying to have a drink by myself.” But generally, I’ve made great connections.
Matt: You are the Picasso of talking to people at bars. I’m curious because a lot is being made in planning circles of the loneliness epidemic right now and all this data that as a society we’ve stopped making friends or hanging out. What do you think makes a bar conducive to socializing?
Nick: I think a nice bartender is important. If you have the respect of the bartender the locals will be more likely to introduce themselves or say hi, because you’re showing respect to the bartender who is probably their friend. It’s cheating but it helps to buy them a round. Only once, in Chicago, have I asked to buy a bartender a shot and it didn’t win them over, and that’s because he was an alcoholic.
Matt: He asked you to buy him a shot?
Nick: No I offered. I said “I’m from out of town I’m enjoying it here can I get you a drink,” and he asked me for a shot of Malort.
Matt: Red flag.
Nick: Yeah, he did it and walked away and was NOT my friend, which is fine. But generally getting in with the bartender is step one. Beyond that, activities are a huge part of what makes bars social. I was on a darts team in Portland, we were at the bar for six hours a game, chatting with people, getting to know the staff. It’s a natural reason to get together and hold court. You become part of the ecosystem.
Matt: We’re starting to get into placemaking territory. I think it’s interesting how the bartender sets the tone and then there generally needs to be an activity to do. It’s a very similar parallel in creating good spaces that need to be well looked after and programmed. Is there anything physically that makes bars good to socialize, a layout or feature?
Nick: One of my favorite bars is the Moon and Sixpence in Portland. There is a restaurant in the front, there are booths which are great because groups can take them over or couples who want privacy, it has a long bar, a darts room in the back, stools where bands play, outdoor with picnic tables…
Matt: There are zones to it that accommodate a lot of different groups or situations.
Nick: Yeah, I’ve never felt like I’m fighting for space, and you can actually have a bunch of different experiences in the same space. It feels like someone’s house.
Matt: You and I are also on the same page about how we like bars to look. The bars we like tell you about the people who spend time there through decoration. Like Nolan’s in London— no designer would ever love Nolans, the entire bar is decorated like a big inside joke. There is a photo I love of these sweet-looking Irish grandpas and it says DO NOT SERVE THESE MEN. There is Irish paraphernalia, a fish tank on the bar. There is a cat named Harry Kane who wanders around. Everywhere you look is interesting and rich with storytelling. It instantly gives you something to talk about too if there’s a break in the conversation.
Nick: If a space feels like it has ephemera that’s personal or left by people organically it creates an understanding. My other favorite bar in Portland has a photo meant to look like The Last Supper from the last day you could smoke inside.
Matt: You’re talking about your favorite bars now, and I’d asked you to list some for me. Do you think there are any themes?
Nick: Yeah that’s how I tried to break it down. The loose theme is community. I as an individual went to a place and became friends first with the people who work there and then with the people who cycle in and out. Tradition is another theme. My dad went to PJ Clarkes every Friday after work for probably 20 years. The bartender there calls me “Mark’s son.”
Matt: What about the bar you went to when you lived in China? I think a lot of a city’s drinking scene is cultural but things like economics, regulation, etc play a bigger role than people think. For example, New York has this dining reputation as being fast-paced vs Europe where you may have a 4-hour lunch. But we also have insane rents so restaurants have to turn tables quickly to make ends meet.
Nick: I think the bar I went to in China, Irene’s, was a great example of that. I was living in a factory town for shoes. In China drinking is not exactly a relaxed activity, you do it at dinner or in business situations to toast. If you’re young you have to drink A LOT at business dinners. You are getting shit-tanked… but out of respect. Irene’s would mostly be American and Italian expats, but Chinese people would go there too because it was a curiosity to them. It’s totally a product of this specific industry and globalization and all these things.
Matt: That’s a great example.
Nick: In Oregon, any business with a liquor license must provide food. It’s a public health law but obviously, it impacts the bar culture. A hot dog is the baseline but it’s often more. There’s a strip club and bar called The Acropolis in Portland that’s owned partially by a cattle rancher. He provides the beef and they have steak specials. People go there for Christmas dinner even though it’s a strip club.
Matt: Obviously, Portland is known for being weird and that sounds… really weird… but it’s also the ol’ regulatory environment.
Nick: I mean the most extreme example of that is COVID. Everyone was desperate in those early COVID days to go to a collective space. Everyone was drinking at home, but when the bars opened for to-go drinks they all went to support even though it sucked as an experience. A great bar is cathartic.
Matt: Very true. To put a bow on our conversation I’m struck by a few things, which could be lessons that good bars could teach placemakers and planners.
Have a density and variety of activities: Even if you’re primarily for drinks have darts, food, music, etc.
Have discrete areas for different groups to use depending on their moods/needs: Booths, backrooms, and the bar itself. This is something a lot of public spaces could learn from — they need more nooks and crannies.
Use decoration to tell a place’s story: Everything is so smooth and bland now. Public spaces should be richly decorated to give a sense of who uses the space/ lives nearby.
Casting is important: Just like a good bartender, the people who work in a public space are ideally good at more than just operations… they’re social choreographers… or at least nice to people.
Nick’s Great Bars
Essays about bars often use a tired ranking system and superlatives (e.g., best dive, cocktail bar, neighborhood joint etc.). A one-dimensional snippet typically fails to capture what makes a bar special. In my mind, happy, collective memories are the secret sauce capable of elevating a boozer to a third place. Like sharks and remora fish, a community canteen lives (for better or worse) in symbiosis with its devotees. So, I’ve included the bars below not because they fit some exact criteria but because they each have meant something to me at a time when I was a different version of myself. Returning to these places feels like visiting an old friend, and they’ll always occupy a slice of real estate in my brain.
Cellar Bar, Larchmont, NY
Take the Metro North towards New Haven, get off at the Larchmont stop and you’ll see a low-slung facade at the south end of the track. There lies the Cellar Bar, a refuge for anyone looking to get a subterranean load on. As you step inside, an ocular patdown will show a Touchtunes jukebox, miscellaneous Irish American + Parrothead paraphernalia and a man named Waverly.
In a murky period of my mid-twenties, I was living at home with Mom and Dad. Two of my hometown pals were also sucking on the proverbial teat. For six months, before we all went our respective ways, our brain trust would meet for Guinness and darts in the Cellar every Thursday and Friday. Thursday is Free Chili Dog Night. At 5 pm on the dot, the spread is assembled on a folding table next to the dart board. After a few coquettish glances, and my third Guinness, I’d usually give in. Cellar regulars included a gaggle of au pairs stationed in town, an alcoholic daughter of a mafioso and Mamaroneck’s Favorite Son, Kevin Dillon.
Kevin never responded. Am I really just another jabroni from the townie bar?
Irenes, Houjie, China
The lion’s share of sandals worn worldwide are manufactured in Houjie, China. Behind the Sheraton Hotel is a little watering hole named Irene’s Bar. This otherwise run-of-the-mill ex-pat joint was significant for my drinking career in two ways:
It was my sole social scene in a lonely, bizarre, foreign chapter of my life
I met Marcus
After a particularly bleak workday in Southern China, I popped into Irene’s for the first time. As was my procedure, I scanned for an interesting face to chat up. The forgotten son of a shoe dynasty mumbled to himself in the corner, hovering over his fourth vodka soda. Another shoe merchant ogled the young waitress as she made her rounds. Wanting nothing from this company, I approached Marcus.
Marcus, the Kiwi owner (Irene is his Chinese wife and the bar’s namesake) was in an introspective mood. After my third Tiger, I asked, “Why, of all the places in the world, would you want to open a bar here?”. Marcus squared his shoulders, queued a song, and said “Nick, this is my bar. If I want to listen to Dreams by Fleetwood Mac, no cunt can tell me I can’t”. Lightning struck and sheets of rain hammered down on Irene’s. The song ended and Marcus ran back Dreams, simply because he could.
Cozy Nook, Palolem, India
Tucked in a hidden corner of Palolem beach, a cluster of humble huts constitute the Cozy Nook hostel. The bar is the nucleus where staff and travelers meet and hang. Jay and Dilip are the bartenders, Rahul runs the kitchen and Sebastian manages the whole operation. Agi, the boss, sits in his outdoor office steps away from the bar. A framed picture above his desk reads “It is no measure of health to be adjusted to a sick society”.
My illness had been my three-year tenure at an uninspiring computer job, which had left me miserable. Aside from the restorative effects of being laid off, putting as much physical space between me and the Times Square office seemed like a sound rehabilitation plan. Every morning at Cozy Nook began with a mango lassi and eggs bhurji. I’d read ten pages of Anna Karenina before I took my first swim of the day. 10 more pages of Anna Karenina, my first beer and a nap. A few more beers and things generally shut down around 10. Back to my hut. This was more or less my daily routine for the better part of a month.
Somehow by week three, through some combination of close proximity and charm offensive, I’d become chummy with the staff and found myself as a welcome fixture at the bar. The end of the season coincided with my last weekend, and so I ended my Goan residency at the Cozy Nook staff party. Held at the secret beach across the bay, we watched cricket on an iPhone and enjoyed some terrific rum-soaked laughs and barbecue around an enormous bonfire.
If you’re ever stuck in a rut, I don’t necessarily recommend going to the bar every day for three weeks. But it worked for me once.
PJ Clarkes, New York City
Gerry, the man behind the sticks at PJ Clarkes, has served my dad creamy pots for over 20 years. The ground floor is a bar/restaurant where my dad and I routinely meet for lunch. The second floor is where JFK supposedly had his clandestine liaisons with Marilyn Monroe. There’s beauty in the ritual of going to the same place, with the same person, time and time again.
We arrive early enough to secure the table next to the window, so we can stare at the midtown Manhattan hoi polloi scurrying to and from their offices. Our set menu includes 2 Cadillacs (bacon cheeseburgers), a dozen oysters and a river of porter. Sometimes we trade a book or two. Most often we lament another promising Buffalo Bills season that’s falling short of expectations.
I love PJ’s because every time I walk through the door, I step into a suspended, warm memory. Maybe one day I’ll hoist suds here with my own massive son. Like me, he won’t have a choice in his fandom (or company), but will love it nonetheless.
Great conversation. From New York to China and India. Wow. I’m not a bar person, but I am someone who thinks about loneliness and cities a lot. I loved this column.
Go Bills!