New York

For a catchy theme, some bar owners evoke tiki Polynesia, disco 70s, or even (?) 90s -- but what about that special spot where the preferred customer is a toothless vet smoking through his trach as he stacks quarters for his next Seven and Seven? Live that dream, at Whiskey Tavern.

A no-BS respite for doddering drunkards envisioned by the chronically distilled brothers behind Whiskey Town, Whiskey Tavern's a dusky, four-flat-screened...tavern, lodged in a Downtown space that's housed bars continuously since the mid-40s -- when drunks made puns about "the Invasion of Bourbondy", and other drunks cackled despite not quite getting it. Unlike tapless, cans-only 'Town, Tavern's hoochstrapping itself w/ bottles and draughts (Smithwick, Guinness, Blue Moon, etc), while retaining an idiosyncratic, brown-heavy liquor selection: Buffalo Trace, Michter's, and other established boutique brands, plus rotating obscurity which, if proven unpopular, the owners nobly claim they'll dispose of themselves. Because people who call bars home often hurt themselves with forks, Tavern makes a point of serving only no-cutlery fare like wings, poppers, burgers, and egg & cheese sandwiches, plus a dessert selection limited to two: Hostess Cupcake, and the other Hostess Cupcake.

Tavern'll rock the occasional DJ night, serve Sat/Sun brunch, and during warm weather open the back patio, which sports four communal picnic tables and closes at midnight -- an appropriate time for an old man to dodder homeward. Into the bar. For that Seven and Seven.

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