There Will Be Beer

A Guide To Sydney's Pubs & Bars For Drunkards & Cheapskates

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There Will Be Beer :: Hemingway's

Hemingway's 48 North Steyne, Manly, 2095

“The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.”

The day was bright and the bar was easy to make out. Cluttered as the street was with branded signs of the names of bars, cafes, pubs or shops; only one had an imprint of Hemingway’s mug.

Across the road the waves rolled onto the beach, people bathed in the light and swam with the tide. Stools and chairs and tables sat outside like professional greeters, awaiting the next patron’s posterior.

I knew nothing about the bar, except that it was in Manly and it bore the name of one of my favourite writers.

In all honesty, I had been entirely prepared for my disappointing expectation; that of a bar with an overly cheesy-theme, more akin to a Hard Rock Cafe’s prostitution of rock ‘n’ roll, to come to fruition. So much so that I had planned to write a cheesy review in the style of an exceptionally cheesy Hemingway eating a cheese burger.

Unfortunately, Hemingway’s is not the “crappy-bar-in-Hemingway’s-clothing” I was expecting. In fact, it seemed that the bar naming itself after Hemingway was more of an honourary gesture than a marketing ploy. Slightly relieved that it looked to be an enjoyable experience, yet disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to use my totally unique angle to write the review, I sat down and ordered a beer…

“Always do sober what you said you’d do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut.”

I looked over a menu both deliciously impressive and appropriately priced (which is to say the prices are in that grey area between “that was worth it!” and “was that worth it?”). It should be noted that all the food is prepared with local, organic, and free range ingredients, and everything is wonderfully tasty.

The drinks menu was stapled into various hardcover books (mine was ‘How To: Hand Craft’ – I would have thought ‘A Moveable Feast‘ would be more appropriate, but what do I know?). You’ll find a range of beers – from a toss it down VB at $3.50, to tinnies at $5, craft beers $7-9, and bottles and long necks between $9-13. As well as a very clever mix of traditional cocktails and Hemingway’s Mix ‘N’ Match (including a Gin & Mountain Dew… surprisingly yum).

The staff were friendly, sociable and happy to not only recommend stellar menu items, but also good locations to enjoy Manly.

The interior bar layout is wonderfully set up. Tables sit looking out through the front windows towards the beach, and on the wall is the only Hemingway quote in the entire building (taken from ‘The Sun Also Rises’ – which I would highly recommend reading if you haven’t gotten around to it yet). Up a few stairs, stools line the banister providing another area to look out the same windows; and further along, tables and chairs occupy the space between the bar against one wall and a library against the other (which includes some good reads and an old Scrabble board).

The stairwell at the rear of the bar will see you come face to face with Hemingway himself beaming down at you. A large seating area can be found up here, with a wonderful nook of old leather chairs and lounges, photographs adorning the wall with Hemingway writing/with his cat/with his catches (both fish and women)/conversing with Fidel Castro.

A battered typewriter is placed at the end of the benches – just incase you feel inspired to bleed onto the page.

“I drink to make other people more interesting.”

The entire bar possesses a great atmosphere: echoing both Hemingway’s home in Cuba, a small cafe he would frequent, and a bar close to where he would dock his boat. People often wonder if, when a bar/cafe/restaurant is named after someone, that person would frequent it. I don’t know if Hemingway would drink here were he still alive, but who’s to say?

Would the bar suddenly lose all its customers if a letter was found, written by Hemingway, saying, “After my death, I would just like it known that I would hate having a bar named after me“?

Probably not.

Hemingway’s is a great bar. Not the greatest bar by a long shot; but it’s easy to love, easy to enjoy and easy to remember. What more do you need from a bar?

Sure, if you live south of the bridge you may not feel compelled to head north just for a bar…then again, I did. (Besides, there’s a beach right next to it!) But if you do live in North Sydney and are needing a place to show off to the Southies, then you could do worse than taking them to Hemingway’s.

As the man said himself:

“An intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend time with his fools.”

Cheers, Daniel Prior

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There Will Be Beer :: Miss Peaches (24/12/2013)

Miss Peaches 201 Missenden Rd, Newtown, 2042 (Upstairs)

Newtown. The Little America of Sydney.

And I don’t say that as an insult, if you’ve been to the US, then you’ll agree. Just walk down King St at any given time, head through any door that takes your fancy and you’ll be treated to some of the best food, drinking holes and stylish shops to be found in Sydney.

Sure, you may be shaking your head, believing that basically all the world’s problems stem from the land of the free and home of the brave, but let’s face facts: if you were given the choice of travelling to New York for free or anywhere else in the world, which would you do?

Exactly! New York.

As much as we like to hate on America, we sure do love their food, music, and style. Some might even call that hypocrisy, but I call it the same thing our yankee friends call it: Freedom.

And if that’s the kind of freedom you’re looking for, then Miss Peaches has the food, the music and the style you’re after.

Just as the best part of America (see: Canada) is hidden up top, so too is Miss Peaches. Placed above the Marlborough Hotel, a curving staircase (with a beautiful logo splayed across the wall) will lead you up and into one of the coolest spaces in Newtown.

It’s quite a simple set up: to your left is a cosy couch area, the balcony, tables and chairs. Straight ahead you’ll more tables and chairs and the stage. And to you right is the kitchen, separated by a wall with old wooden fence posting nailed to it, and the bar.

Now, first off, let me point this out for the cheapskates: drinks are slightly cheaper downstairs at the Marly Bar. Not by a huge amount (anywhere from 50c to $1) but cheaper is cheaper. That being said, Miss Peaches is simple a better place to enjoy your drink. Not only do they have a wider range of more artisanal beers and cocktails, but it is just a better space. It’s the old argument of small bar vs trendy pub, and in this case, small bar absolutely wins out.

You’ll also have access to Miss Peaches kitchen, which, for lack of a better word, is orgasmic. Offering up the Soul Food classics of mac & cheese (the proper stuff, not that plastic shit from a box), fried chicken, catfish & chips, gumbo, and all the other things we love to have our doctors hate us for eating.

Throw in regular performances by an old style swing band and some of the best soul/funk/blues music playing through the speakers at any given moment, and you’ve got yourself one great bar.

It really feels like it should be in a dilapidated shack somewhere in Deep South, USA, not on the main strip of Newtown.

Amazingly though, despite being above the rather rauty and crass Marly Bar, the crowd isn’t made up of the same hooligans (I say it with love) – instead it consists of a well-behaved and jovial bunch of people, so unless it’s the usually busy nights of Friday/Saturday, you’ll be able to get in and relax with no problem.

You can shake your resentful fist all you like when it comes to America and words like ‘war’, ‘tourist’ and ‘made’. But there should be no negative connotation with the word ‘American’ sits alongside words like ‘food’, ‘bars’, and ‘music’.

Cheers, Daniel Prior

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There Will Be Beer :: Arcadia Liquors (2/12/2013)

Arcadia Liquors 7 Cope St, Redfern, 2016

I love Justified. It’s my non-guilty guilty-pleasure; I always get a warm, comfy feeling and a rush of excitement every time I sit down to watch it. Unfortunately, no one else seems to share my love of the show.

I try explaining it to several people, but they just don’t get it. It’s one of those things that you need to experience, something you’ll either love or won’t see the point to. The same thing happens with bars I recommend to people.

Case in point: Arcadia Liquors.

Planted on 7 Cope St, Redfern (behind that big metal art thing which no one is quite sure what it is), the bar puts up an anonymous front. With no signs announcing its existence, you’ll only spot Arcadia at night thanks to the Christmas lights twinkling away through the large front window and, like a moth to the flame, you’ll undoubtedly be pulled through the doors into this superb little bar.

Looking like the owners simply put a bar in the middle of a dilapidated house, before throwing up a few pretty/creepy prints of horses and children in landscapes in an attempt to disguise the bare brick walls, and an outdoor/indoor smoking area which is simply a courtyard with half smashed walls; Arcadia does seem to fit the definition of a dingy-dive-bar.

But there’s nothing dingy (or divy for that matter) about it. The building may have the feel of dilapidation, but it also possess the same welcoming feel a pillow fort has.

The range of liquors are nothing to thumb your nose at either. Quality whiskeys, gins, tequilas and other spirits are all to be found, along with a shopping list of a cocktail menu. Now, their beer prices are a little on the high side, but it isn’t any old swill being sold: a selection of European beers and Young Henrys is on tap, so you can be forgiven for paying a little bit more for a whole lot more quality.

Maybe it’s because it’s in Redfern (which unfortunately still carries the stigma that it’s a dangerous place to go drinking) or maybe it’s because it doesn’t rely on shallow themes and pointless draw cards to pull a crowd, confusing the feeble minded drinkers. Whatever the reason, Arcadia hasn’t risen up in the eyes of the masses as a great place to drink.

Their loss.

Arcadia is much like my love of Justified. It is that guilty pleasure which, while you may not feel guilty about it, may earn you some raised eyebrows from people. It is one of those bars which people will either love or just won’t see the point to it.

This only makes Arcadia that much more special to those who do love it. It gives the crowd a sense of comradery, like they share secret or, as the case may be, perhaps a certain show?

Cheers, Daniel Prior

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There Will Be Beer : Good God Small Club (11/11/2013)

Good God Small Club 53-55 Liverpool St, Sydney, 2000

It’s not hard to imagine that the concept for Goodgod Small Club came about while two Putt-Putt attendees were reminiscing about the late 80’s/early 90’s; Run DMC playing through tired speakers encased in the mouth of a polyester dinosaur standing over the fourth hole in the Jurassic putting range. Adorned with much the same decorations, Goodgod is a dream for the retro enthusiast and a haven of good music, good food and great fun in this fine city of ours.

For a small bar, Goodgod Small Club is actually quite large.

A common problem with small bars that find themselves with too much space is that they tend to try too hard to utilise it all, resulting in the juggling of too many half-baked ideas, spreading themselves thin trying to accommodate every whim.

Goodgod Small Club avoids this pitfall by splitting the space into three clearly defined sections, each catering to a specific need; ‘Eat’, ‘Drink’ & ‘Dance’.

It may sound like a spin off of Eat Pray Love, but unlike the novel and movie, this works. By separating each part, they are able to focus their energies, excelling at each part.

EAT

The Dip serves up an unbelievably tasty menu. Head chef Andrew Levins has honoured the traditional American diner by taking the hot dog, nachos and burgers and putting his own twist on them, making them something truly mouth-watering. The burgers taste exactly the way you think a burger should taste. The nachos are cooked to perfection and come with a range of toppings; and the hot dogs? Levins turns them into an art-form.

DRINK

After a tasty meal like that, you’ll be wanting some refreshments. A glance over the cocktail list will tell you two things…

1. The people running this place love Weekend At Burnies, Goodfellas, and every other classic late eighties/early nineties film in existence.

2. They know a thing or two about mixing drinks.

As with any good cocktail menu, the drinks have names like ‘Cool In The Pool’, ‘Pop-Eye-Pop’ and ‘Chevy Chase’. All fun to order and lip-smackingly delicious, while making you wonder when the last time you watched The Three Amigos was?

With a belly full of pulled pork and corn chips and heads swimming in Black Rose Sangria, what is there left to do but get on the dance floor and try out your own rendition of Footloose?

DANCE

Enter The Danceteria…

A mashed up room that’s somewhere between Saturday Night Fever, Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’, and Breakin 2: Electric Boogaloo.

Complete with a disco ball and a smoke machine gone haywire (I’m surprised no one has been diagnosed with emphysema yet), it’s the perfect place to get your little feet stomping and wave your arms like a four year old having a tantrum… but in a really stylish way.

With an excellent array of house DJs (including Levins, laying down jams as tasty as his burgers), as well as a great line up of other acts throughout the week (most recently: The Growl & Jeremy Neale).

There’s also regular trivia on topics you should actually know something about; The Simpsons, Seinfeld, Breaking Bad, Parks & Rec… you know, the important stuff.

Goodgod is the result of cool guys remembering the dreams they had as cool kids, then building a bar to immortalise those dreams.

It may be a small club, but it packs an almighty punch.

Cheers, Daniel Prior

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There Will Be Beer :: Young Henrys Brewery (17/10/2013)

Young Henrys Brewery 76 Wilford St, Newtown, 2042

Incase the title of these reviews are too vague, let me explain something.

I love beer.

Beer is not a drink to me, it’s something else entirely.

It is the great equaliser. No matter who you are, what you do, what you believe, how much you earn, or which side of the political fence you’re on, the one thing that unites this country of ours is our collective enjoyment of beer.

For the longest time, our choice of beer has been limited to the rather dull tastes of the big breweries, which have almost all been bought up by foreign companies, resulting in the lowering of both prices and quality (that’s globalisation for you).

But in recent years, there has been a huge rise in home and micro brewing. These small, unique beers have changed the face of drinking in Sydney; providing variety and flavour to an otherwise tasteless palette.

In honour of Sydney Craft Beer Week (which really should expand to an entire month), it is time to begin shining some light and love on these young upstarts behind this rev-ale-ution (just so you know, that isn’t going to be the only pun in this article).

And you can’t get younger than Young Henrys Brewery.

With a solid range of core brews and regular collaborations with bands and organisations – such as You Am I(Brew Am I), Front End Loader (Fresh Six), Big Village (Big Village Brew), as well as a one-off, impossibly tastyFBi Radio Red - Young Henrys have quickly established a strong presence in the pub and bar scene, and received the love and loyalty of the Inner-west.

Tucked down a back street off the bustling Enmore Rd, you could easily walk past if you didn’t know what you were looking for (and if the smell of yeast wasn’t so prevalent).

The brewery itself has the feel of a homebrew set-up that’s been taken to obsessive levels; it is a warehouse occupied mostly by mechanical beasts of brewden, these beautiful contraptions swell like pregnant mothers ready to release their bundles of joy to the world.

A small bar sits like a cozy bird’s nest in the middle of the warehouse and is manned by some of the friendliest and most easy going staff I have yet to meet. Whenever you go in, you’re more than likely to end up having a chin-wag with the bar staff and one too many beers with the brewers themselves, who are regularly perched on a nearby stool, sampling their product with the same satisfied look Giuseppe had when he realised he had created a real boy.

As for the beer itself? Well, words fail me.

Young Henrys use the standard ingredients of hops, yeast and malt, but simply find the best kind of hops, yeast and malt they can get their hands on. With that simplicity at their core, they then start getting experimental and create some very interesting creations, such as their short run but very popular Brew Tang Clam; a tasty clam stout they made while listening to Wu Tang Clan, and which they would only give you if you said “Brew Tang Clam ain’t nothin to shuck wit!” when asking for a glass.

Real Ale, Hop Ale, Natural Lager, Newtowner and Cloudy Cider are the general drinks on tap, and can usually be found in long necks in bottle shops around the Inner-west, but the limited edition brews they create are something else. Should you walk into the brewery and find a beer not in the five listed above, then for the love of god you must drink; these are usually one-off brews, so when the keg runs dry, the tears will flow and you’ll be haunted by the thought, “What did I miss out on?” for the rest of your life.

Every beer at Young Henrys is $5 and Growlers (which are two litre takeaway bottles) are between $25-$35. You can, however, bring back the bottle for refills, which will save you $7 and bring the prices down to $18-$28 (talk about stoutstainable! …okay, that one was low.)

It is impossible to have a bad drink at Young Henrys. Even if you find one that isn’t to your liking, their range is so varied that you’re sure to find something to take up the position of ‘Favourite Drink’.

If you’re a craft beer connoisseur, an amateur homebrewer looking to gain a bit of knowledge, or just a lover of quality beer; then the gang at Young Henrys are ready to serve.

Cheers, Daniel Prior

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There Will Be Beer :: The Annandale Hotel (2/10/2013)

The Annandale Hotel 17 Parramatta Rd, Annandale, 2038

We all know the Annandale Hotel. It's a hotel that has the same grit and determination as our grandparents; everytime they look like they're on their last legs, we find them a month later downing four schooners and hitting on the ladies' lawn bowl team at the RSL.

Family metaphors would not work with any other pub, but the Annandale has been a major mark in the Sydney music & pub scene for so long that it can be hard not to feel a personal relationship with the place.

Chances are good that one in three people who read this attended their first ever music gig at the Dale. There’s an even better chance that your favourite band has already performed there at some point in the pub’s tumultuous history.

The Annandale has been threatened with closure more often than the North and South Korean border, and has had multiple fundraisers to fight off complaining neighbours and council fines and keep the doors open; the most recent being the Buy-a-Brick Campaign, which resulted in the much needed renovations to the Dale. The trampoline-like rotten wooden floor has been replaced with actual wood, the thick layers of paint have been stripped off exposing the bare bricks, now covered with placards bearing the name of all the legendswho took part in the campaign. And, much to everyone’s delight, the pub has finally sealed up the pokie room (which also resulted in the loss of the smoker’s alley, but it’s a small sacrifice).

Out the back, Pub Cha operates in a lovely open space, and while the food prices are on the high side ($8 for three dumplings), everything is delicious and it’s a wonderful way to spend a sunny weekend.

Inside, you’ll find the average range of beers for the usual price of $5 and up. But the Annandale isn’t just a pub to go and drink at. It’s a landmark music venue. On almost any given night, you’ll be treated to a wide range of bands and artists, from the well-known to the obscure and undiscovered.

If you type 'Annandale Hotel' into Google, you'll be given a huge result of articles saying either 'Annandale closing' or 'Annandale saved'.

While the pub has recently been purchased by the Oscar Group and is currently safe from financial woes, we can’t help but wonder what may happen down the road. So where I would normally sum up my review with what kind of drinking experience you can expect, I will instead leave you with this:

The Annandale Hotel should receive the same reverence that any other Sydney icon does.

The Annandale Hotel is a pub which, no matter how you feel about it, is a cornerstone to the history and future of Sydney’s nightlife. And with the potential overhaul of the wasteland that is Parramatta Road on the horizon, I encourage you all to support the Annandale: check out a gig, attend an event there, or simply go and have a beer there to keep it alive and thriving.

Long live the ‘Dale!

Cheers, Daniel Prior

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There Will Be Beer :: Queen Victoria Hotel (2/9/2013)

Queen Victoria Hotel 167 Enmore Rd, Enmore, 2042

We’ve all had those nights. The ones where we’ve had a desire to go out and do something, but cannot be bothered trying to figure out what. It’s a feeling that the generation with the audacity to be younger than my own has labeled the ‘Meh’ feeling.

It's on nights like this that I am glad a pub like the Queen Victoria Hotel exist.

A pub that seems to have dedicated itself entirely to that feeling of ‘Meh’; the pub is completely enjoyable while immediately forgettable.

Planted across the road from the Enmore Theatre, you can be forgiven for walking inside and immediately walking straight back out again.

The ground floor of the pub greets you with the one thing you don’t want a pub to greet you with: a TAB.

Now, I have nothing against gambling, in principle; but when an army of televisions surround you, smashing you over the head with betting odds, and the never-ending horse races, well, let’s just say I lose my temper.

Level In truth, the only way to escape from the gambling-addled, testosterone-filled atmosphere rife throughout the ground floor is to scurry upstairs and meet the better half of the QVH

Level One is a welcome surprise. A warm, inviting area with not a single television in sight. A pool table sits silently near a window looking over Enmore Rd, and a bar staffed with some quietly confident cocktail makers (people who know their Tom Collins from their Tom Waterhouse), you’d almost forget you’re in a sports bar; perhaps not entirely, but enough to warrant another drink rather than moving on to a different bar.

Being a rather old fashioned pub, you’ll be treated to the occasional raffle, as well as free pool on Sundays (12pm-9pm), and Tuesday Trivia, hosted by the lovely Reta Svans, who is as generous with the correct answers as she is with food and drink vouchers (I have yet to attend and not win something).

The bistro has some absolutely delicious choices as well as an excellent range of vegetarian options (Halloumi burger anyone?), though if an order gets more complicated than “Can I have chips instead of mash?”, except to run into some mix ups.

The QVH manages to strike an even mix of sports bar and a quality inner-west pub. It doesn’t excel at either, but it should be applauded for successfully appealing to both the gambler and the inner-west drinker alike without favouring one over the other, as they are not crowds that mix well, with most pubs and bars catering to one or the other.

In the end, The QVH isn’t a pub that will blow you away, and honestly, unless you’re already in the area, there are other pubs and bars that you could go to and you’d probably have a better time.

That being said, if you are in Enmore/Newtown/Marrickville area, and in the mood for trivia, horse races, or just in a ‘Meh’ kind of mindset, then The QVH is for you.

Cheers, Daniel Prior

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There Will Be Beer :: Mr Falcon's (24/7/2013)

Mr Falcon's 92 Glebe Point Rd, Glebe, 2037

I’ve reviewed a number of bars and pubs now, and drunk in countless others, so to say that Mr Falcon’s is a great bar is an understatement.

The first time I went there, I attended a Burlesque performance, which is held every month on the first floor.

The show I witness involved balloons, rubber ducks, whips and a bottle of Dentol.

Even if you tried to imagine what took place, you’d be way off. And the shows have only grown bolder and more entertaining over time… the last one I went to containing snakes and flaming nipple tassels.

Now, there are some who believe that stripping is a sad and depressing act.

And it is.

In Kings Cross.

At Mr Falcon’s, it was just a bunch of people having fun. If the crowd wasn’t wolf whistling and heckling, then Memphis May, the vixen running the show, would start hurling insults until she got a response from everyone. And to prove there was nothing sexist about the show, several male performers have made appearances, upstaging all the girls with acts that would leave a Cirque Du Soleil contortionist stunned.

Burlesque was the lure that brought me through the doors, but as the saying goes:

'Come for the nipples, stay for the alcohol.'

… that’s totally a saying, right?!

Mr Falcon’s is perhaps the most unique bar in Sydney. It’s a cosy and inviting space. Each room takes on its own atmosphere, making you feel like you’re stumbling through some bohemian dream.

By far the deadliest/tastiest/most-likely-to-get-you-smashed item on the menu is the delicious Falcon Punch, which tastes like liquid happiness.

A jug of this wonderful concoction will set you back $20, and is the average price for cocktail jugs across the board. I highly recommend getting the Punch, if there’s any left.

Nick, the proud owner of Mr Falcon’s, is regularly found to be tending bar. But if his friendly presence is missing, you have nothing to fear. There are plenty of lovely bartenders ready to sell you Falcon Punch, sangria, mulled wine, bottled beers, or tickets to the next burlesque show (which, if you’re planning to attend, is worth picking up to make sure you get a seat). A small courtyard with an assortment of plastic stools, camping chairs, and wooden tables with lanterns filled with fairy lights, create an intimate area to stare longingly into your partner’s eyes as you slowly succumb to the influence of Falcon Punch.

Mr Falcon’s can be found on Glebe Point Rd, a location already brimming with amazing places to enjoy a drink. As such, it’s easy to skip past Mr Falcon’s when you’re on a pub crawl around Glebe, but you’d be missing out on a bar with a strong character, a fantastic range of drinks and a wonderful atmosphere. Mr Falcon’s is great bar in an area filled with great bars, but it is one of the few that stand out from the crowd and provide a truly unique experience.

It is, to be frank, my favourite bar in Sydney.

Cheers, Daniel Prior

A note from Daniel Prior circa January 2014

"An interesting note. After this review was published, the owner of this bar got in touch with me and offered a space should I ever wish to start up an event. This was a direct contribution to the creation of Loose Leaf Literature, a night showcasing storytellers, poets, rappers, musicians, comedians and any other individual who can sling a sentence with grace and style. A free event that is still held at Mr Falcon's on the last Tuesday of every month."

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There Will Be Beer :: The Old Growler (30/5/2013)

The Old Growler 216-218 William St, Woolloomooloo, 2011

The first time I went drinking in Kings Cross was a fairly depressing one.

I was at a farewell for a mate, who had decided to give up on life and just to move to Perth, when some bright spark said, “Hey, let’s take him to a strip club in the Cross.” I felt like Kurtz in the Heart of Darkness. The horror… The horror! Ever since I’ve had a rather jaded opinion of the Cross.

I'm not saying it's terrible. There are a few pubs you can enjoy yourself in without worrying about a fistful of herpes being thrusted in your general direction.

But my first experience, combined with the constant news barrage of street fights, drive-by shootings, drug deals and death, makes it hard not to think that the Cross is nothing more than a seedy cauldron of prostitutes, bouncers, and douche-bags who’ve watched The Warriors one too many times. However, a revolution is taking place, reclaiming the popular late night spot from the Underbelly wannabes. Small bars are cropping up all over the place, providing a safe haven for those who wish to avoid the hounding doormen and endless hordes of randy backpackers, simply wishing to drink and drink well.

The Old Growler is a perfect example of the metamorphosis that is slowly transforming the Cross.

Noticeably, it lacks the panache that has become the trademark of trendy Darlinghurst bars. You won’t find any retro furniture, posters of obscure bands and odd drinks, nor any kind of themed decoration. But, to be frank, small bars only put all that shit in to distract you from how small the bar really is, and give the bartenders a reason to mix up a particularly snazzy version of rum and coke. (Rum and vanilla coke, anyone?)

I do love a good themed bar (see Tio’s Cervecaria, Shady Pines Saloon or Baxter Inn for good examples), but something I have greater respect for is a bar that just says: “To hell with the grass skirts and hubcaps on the walls, you’re here to drink and enjoy yourself, not mope about because you’re not on the Hawaiian Island of Come-On-I-Wanna-Lay-Ya.”

When you walk into the Old Growler and see its stripped back walls and lights that are permanently set to a ‘late evening drinking’ glow, you get the feeling that when renovating they gave up trying to work out a theme and decided to just have a beer instead.

Young Henry’s is the only beer on tap (they do have other options in the fridges, not that you’ll need them). There are two glass sizes: teetotaler (half pint, $5) and the one you should be drinking from (pint, $9). There is also a quality cocktail list and a food menu that is mostly pig or pig-like products (thankfully they don’t feel the need for pig or pig-like paraphernalia adorning the walls as well). I checked it out on a Wednesday evening, and the lax midweek crowd meant that I could pull up a stool and have a chat with the bar staff – all of whom were friendly and enjoyed a good chinwag over a pint and a shot of rum. 

The Old Growler is my kind of bar: bare-bones, no-frills and all about drinking with some good music in the background

I'm not saying that Sydney doesn’t need more small bars with unique tastes and themes – but the ‘Just a bar to sit at with a beer and listen to a bit of Johnny Cash’ theme has just been snatched up. And the Cross is that much better for it.

Cheers, Daniel Prior

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There Will Be Beer :: Town Hall Hotel (30/4/2013)

Town Hall Hotel 326 King St, Newtown, 2042

Is there anyone who doesn't know of the Townie?

Who hasn't ended their night in Newtown at the Town Hall Hotel before cramming into the train with the inebriated masses?

It’s hard to review a pub that’s so well known, simply because almost everyone has already made up their mind about it one way or the other.

Everyone I talk to has pretty strong feelings:

"It's great." "It's shit." "It's mediocre." "Why are you talking to me?"

With Newtown station just next door, you can be excused labeling it a dodgy train station pub. It is a dodgy train station pub. Televisions are locked onto the horse races, gathering a small crowd of disgruntled gamblers; the older gentlemen with suspenders ensuring their pants don’t slip below their nipples, talk about the upcoming races with the younger punters in tracksuits and bum-bags.

Metalheads hunker down around the pool tables, pinball machines and big buck hunters, trying to figure out who has the better Metallica shirt. Goths smoke out the back, a huddled mass of black hair, black clothes and a scrap-yard of facial piercings. Alcoholics stumble around, seductively spilling their beer over you in a peacock-like mating display.

Now, this scene will strike familiar to Sydney drinkers. It has become the uniform for all pubs next door to a station (that said there are a few exceptions to the rule).

But while The Townie puts the 'dinge' in 'dingey', it's also very different from its stereotypical kin.

For example, you’d think that with a crowd of gamblers, drinkers, goths and metalheads, there’d be a fight every minute. Yet everyone gets along harmoniously and are actually quite a pleasant crowd to drink with.

One could argue (incorrectly) that this is the type of crowd you’ll regularly find in Newtown, but I believe that it’s actually due to the layout of the pub itself. Set out over two stories, it feels strikingly similar to hostels I’ve stayed at all over Australia.

Everything flows and yet doesn’t have a structure to it.

You’ll walk through a door and you’re suddenly in the smokers’ area. Due to a nifty open roof design, it is open air but feels very much indoors. There are nooks and crannies to sit in and drink and yet you never feel like you’re cut off from the rest of the pub. There are open spaces as cozy as an amicable common area. The bar staff are friendly and chatty, adding to the whole hostel vibe (minus the seedy German guy with the pro-surfer tan who hits on anything that moves).

You might say that I'm completely wrong.

And while I’m never wrong, you could still stick to your belief that the Townie is terrible.

You may be right (you’re really not). 

The Townie is like a Rorschach test, with everyone seeing something different in the ink blot.

My experience will probably not be your experience.

The only way to find out if it’s any good or not is to go there and decide yourself what you see in the stained carpet and marked walls.

…Which kind of makes this review completely redundant.

Oh well.

Cheers, Daniel Prior.

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There Will Be Beer :: East Village Hotel (4/4/2013)

East Village Hotel 82 Darling St, Balmain, 2041

Lets face it. The only people who drink in Balmain are people who live in Balmain.

I wish it wasn’t true, as it has some excellent watering holes, but we have to face facts.

If Balmain were a body part, it would be a scrotum, tucked away between the legs of a cross dresser a la Buffalo Bill’s (NSFW) ‘I’d Fuck Me‘ scene in Silence of the Lambs. Sure, scrotums are fun, but getting to them can be more trouble then they’re worth.

But for those with the will and determination, you will find a wonderful treasure tucked in between the thighs of East Balmain (I have a feeling I’m going to regret using the scrotum analogy).

The East Village Hotel, for those who cannot deduce the location of the pub from its cryptic name, is planted uphill from the East Balmain wharf on Darling St.

Now, beware, it’s not cheap. Beers are $6+. However, you won’t find the usual trinity of VB, Carlton & Hahn here. No, instead you’ll find a range of craft beers on tap, as well as some limited release brews. And while I’ll take a cheap beer any day, it’s nice to shake up your beer palette from the regular swill four dollars can get you (no offense VB, Carlton and Hahn).

With a tasty beer in hand, take a seat and drool over the menu (both food and drink). I didn’t see a single thing on there that I wouldn’t happily eat, even if the prices are as high as the beers (Entrees $12+, Mains $20+). They’re not unreasonable prices – although you could find cheaper, I highly doubt you’ll get such a range of orgasmic delights.

The menu’s saving grace is the nightly specials. I was there on Wednesday night, and was treated to half price mussels. 

After a few beers, a 1kg pot of Thai green mussels for a measly $13 is just what the doctor ordered.

Now, the pub isn’t very well sound proofed, so you’ll be shouting to talk to someone even when the place is only half full. But that’s a minor gripe, and apart from an 11pm close and the whole scrotum placement in Balmain, there aren’t any other negatives I can think of. There is also a nice sized outdoor area with those old cast iron chairs and tables that were big in the 80s and 90s and are probably still rusting away in your backyard.

I was informed by a friend I was drinking with that the pub used to be a Belgian beer house, and, to be frank, I’m glad it’s been converted back into a local haunt. While I enjoy a tasty bowl of goulash and a stein of beer as much, if not more than the next man, Sydney simply has enough of them.

What it doesn’t have enough of are pubs that cater specifically to the locals. Bars that you can stumble into and find your seat at your table and enjoy your regular drink, which the bartender will start pouring as soon as he/she sees you walk in.

No words need be exchanged between the two of you, except the customary “What’s doing?”

Sure, East Village Hotel may be a hard to reach scrotum, but it’s a scrotum I’ll gladly reach for any day. (Yeah, I do regret this analogy…)

Cheers, Daniel Prior

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There Will Be Beer :: Shady Pines Saloon (14/3/2013)

Shady Pines Saloon Shop 4/256 Crown St, Darlinghurst, 2010

“The only thing that’s missing is a burly bloke missing a few teeth, dressed in denim and flannel, named Bubba.” -Fellow Drinker #1

Set your rifle at the door, hang your hat on the moose’s antlers, and get yourself a fine whiskey from the bar and discuss the day’s hunt.

But wait, you’re not in the deep south of the US. You’re in Darlinghurst.

It’s easy to forget that fact when you’re in Shady Pines Saloon; a bar that has been seemingly ripped straight off it’s foundations in Alabama and plonked right in the backstreets of Oxford St.

Decorated with the stuffed heads of deer and moose and almost every other animal from Noah’s Ark, you can be forgiven if you start talking with a southern drawl; you’d feel out of place if you didn’t.

If you’re disturbed by dead animals, you’re not going to be very comfortable here. It’s impossible to avoid them, almost as impossible to have a bad drink here.

Looking down a drinks menu as long as the American constitution, you’ll find pages upon pages of whiskeys, bourbons, ports, wines and beers, all of them priced from $7 upwards. While it’s not the cheapest place to drink, it is good value for a quality beverage.

My standard drink there has been Four Roses Whiskey (yummy) on the rocks. And unlike other bars where you get a couple of cubes that melt before you can find a seat, Shady Pines plonks a ice chunk that could sink the Titanic into your glass.

Take a seat under the moose head with your drink and customary free bowl of peanuts and enjoy the atmosphere and music.

“This place makes me think that I should take up skeet shooting…” -Fellow Drinker #2

Everything about Shady Pines adds to the country feel: the smell of peanuts and whiskey and pine wood; the music of Leadbelly and Tom Waits and Kitty, Daisy & Lewis; the cabinets of old whiskey bottles and jugs.

Everything makes sense.

The only thing that makes you realise that you’re not in the Deep South is that there are never any bar fights breaking out between truckers over someone eyeballin’ their woman. There’s no slack-jawed local playing ‘Dueling Banjos’ in a rocking chair. No poker tables in the back corners with gun fights breaking out because of an accusation of being a cheat. Basically no stereotypical Southern America bar behaviour that I’ve come to expect thanks to film and television.

And while it may take away from the feel of the bar, it does leave you with a sociable crowd, friendly bar staff, and possibly one of the happiest atmospheres to be found in a bar in Sydney.

Y’all Come Back Now!

Cheers, Daniel Prior

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There Will Be Beer :: The Friend In Hand (18/2/2013)

The Friend In Hand Hotel 58 Cowper St, Glebe, 2037

You know what pubs don’t have enough of these days? Tacky shit. You know why? Because The Friend In Hand has quite clearly nicked every conceivable piece and nailed it to every inch of the pub.

Now, there are still a few pubs that have managed to keep a death grip on their tacky shit. You’ll no doubt walk into the odd bar and find street signs above the doors, a few notes of foreign currency stapled to the bar, maybe even a figurine or two of a duck with a swagman’s hat or a surfing Santa.

But I tell you this, my friends, for sheer volume and variety of Tacky Shit, you cannot beat The Friend In Hand.

It looks like a hoarder decorated the place, and I’m fairly sure that at least one of the walls is held together by the coasters, bottle caps, signs, photographs, stuffed animal heads and hundreds of other different nick-nacks that coat it like a thick layer of paint; all strung together and kept standing by a model train that does a lap of the room every few minutes.

Even outside in the beer garden, you cannot escape it. Old signs advertising everything from Neighbourhood Watch to squash courts and a rusting old bike reinforce the fence – as if they were trying to repel a zombie horde. (In the event of said zombie outbreak, I would recommend heading to The Friend In Hand, grabbing a beer, and sitting back with the other locals in your fort of street signs while the world descends into a brain-eating playground.)

As if to highlight the odd collection and strange nature of the pub, any given day/night you head in you’ll undoubtedly meet the pub’s mascot, George, a Cockatoo who spends his days chewing up the coasters, perched on the counter and tables, eyeing the crowd suspiciously, or aiding the staff behind the counter (usually by taking the occasional crap on their shoulder).

On my first night there, I went upstairs to take a look around, and on my way back down I found a hermit crab hiding in its shell on the third to last step. I was, at first, very confused as to how a hermit crab had managed to get from the beach, all the way into Glebe, and up the stairs.

I was later informed by another patron (who was a little more sober than I) that it probably a straggler from thecrab races held on Wednesday nights.

Now, I was there on a Saturday afternoon, and I began laughing hysterically, thinking about this crab, hiding from the staff searching for it, days on end, as it tried to make its way to freedom, all the while the Great Escape tune was playing in my head…

This is the kind of weird place that The Friend In Hand is: where crabs act out scenes from Hogan’s Heroes, a Cockatoo eyes your partner, and where a pub with enough tacky shit can become a truly strange place with a unique atmosphere.

Cheers, Daniel Prior

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There Will Be Beer :: Baxter Inn (14/1/2013)

Baxter Inn 156 Clarence St, Sydney, 2000

With a title as meticulously specific as ‘A Guide to Sydney’s Pubs & Bars for Cheapskates and Drunkards’ (‘Cheapskate’ being a keyword for most of the pubs I review) you’re probably wondering why I would be reviewing a pricey and well to-do bar such as the Baxter Inn.

In all honesty, I never connected the dots between “Whiskey Bar” and “Expensive” until I was looking over the drink list. But by that time it was too late; I was already in love with the bar itself.

Hidden down an alley behind a bike shop, with no sign or logo and only a bouncer and a roped off area to let you know you’re in the right place; down a fire escape and through a door, straight into a speakeasy from the prohibition era.

1920s music blasts over the speaker, a welcome change from the bargain bin dance music played in most other Sydney bars. Behind the bar, bartenders supporting excellent facial hair guard a wall of whiskeys, bourbons, ports, wines, and every other type of liquor and alcohol that would send any AA member into relapse.

Now, there are beers, but a drunken glance at their prices looked like the average you’d be paying would be the festival price of $7. Besides the fact, you’re in a whiskey bar. Buying a beer here would be like buying a glass of turps at a winery. Sure it might be cheaper, but you’re kind of missing the point.

As hidden as the bar is, you’d be hard pressed to find a stool, let alone table, for you and yours to sit and enjoy your drink at. I arrived with a friend at around 7:30ish; which at most other Sydney bars would be just in time to beat out the dreaded 8pm horde. At the Baxter, however, we were the Johnny-Come-Latelies. The place was chockers. We only stayed for a couple of drinks; partly because of the crowds, and partly because we were running out of money very quickly.

There is no real way I can justify drinking here for the Cheapskate; the prices are just too high. But this place isn’t for the Cheapskate, it’s for the Drunkard. It’s for those of us who enjoy a well made and high quality drink.

Here’s an example of what I mean: I recently bought a very cheap bottle of whiskey. Now I won’t say what brand it is, but it cost under $30 and tastes like it was aging in an ashtray, even when mixed.

At the Baxter, the first drink I indulged in was a wonderfully simple cocktail called an Old Style. Bourbon in an ice filled glass, a cherry and an orange skin on top.It cost $17. It’s difficult to keep drinking at that price, but on the flip side, it was also difficult to keep drinking the whiskey I bought as well, despite how cheap it was.

The fact is that if you’re looking to drink in Sydney, you first need to figure out where you sit on the Cheapskate/Drunkard scale. Drinking at home with the terrible tasting whiskey would be deep in the Cheapskate side, while The Baxter sits on the high end of Drunkard. This isn’t a place to save money; it’s a place to enjoy art and craft of drinking.

All that said, it’ll be a while before I can afford to drink there again. But that just makes the Baxter that much more special. It’s a place to spoil yourself. To forget about saving money and simply enjoy yourself and the drink in your hand… Just make sure you’ve still got enough left in your bank account to pay the rent when you’re finished.

Cheers, Daniel Prior

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There Will Be Beer :: Off Broadway (26/11/2012)

Off Broadway 1 Bay St, Broadway, 2007

When I was in high school, some of my stoner friends would invite everyone around to their place. Their houses were in no way special or attractive, usually only having an old telly that could pick up the ABC and the cricket. They didn’t own any video games, and their computers were jammed full of porn and death metal.

So why did everyone go over?

Because no one gave a shit what you got up to.

It’s a similar kind of situation at Off Broadway.

Sure, you might not be able to smoke pot out of an apple, but provided you’re not disturbing anyone else or tearing down the walls, you can pretty much go nuts here.

We were all heavily intoxicated. Smashed, hammered, tight, liquored up; all of those things and more. A musician was playing covers near the dodgy couches, so we filled the role of back-up singers, screaming off key notes at the crooked pool cues in-between shots of wildly varying skill.

More and more strangers arrived who all quickly became friends and soon we had everyone joining in a rousing version of ‘Umbrella’ by Rihanna, with the crowd carrying out the “ella-ella” part like an echo in a canyon.

Truth be told, there is nothing nice to say about the actual pub. It contains the two worst things a pub could have: televisions and pokies. Worse still, the tellies are constantly tuned to either MTV or whichever channel is peddling Two and a Half Men and The Big Bang Theory nowadays.

The pub is rather large, but 2/3 of the place is taken up by pokies and a TAB, which leaves room for about a dozen televisions to pollute 1/3 of the pub. And for some reason, no matter where the pool tables are placed, or how often they are levelled, one well-placed shot will send every ball to the back left pocket.

There’s a Big Buck Hunter up the back that won’t let you shoot any of the deer on one half of the screen. They did have an awesome Rolling Stones pinball machine, but have since replaced it with a Tron version.

There’s no smoking area.

The music (save a few live performances) generally rises to the same quality as on 2DayFM.

This pub is in no way special or attractive. But to be honest, that’s not a bad thing.

As everyone knows, the best way to make something good look even better is to compare it to something shitty. Off Broadway is located smack-bang in the middle of the Inner West Pub Crawl Map; Glebe, Newtown and Surry Hills are all within ten minutes stumbling distance.

Another benefit that Off Broadway provides is cheap beer. A schooner of Carlton is a mere $4.00, and a paltry $3.00 during happy hour. I challenge you to find a better price within a hundred metres.

You may not be able to impress people by bringing them here, and people at other pubs may look down their noses at you, but when you’re on a pub crawl, it’ll be you and your group that still have the money to continue onwards to obliteration.

Cheers, Daniel Prior

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There Will Be Beer :: Tio's Cervecaria (11/10/2012)

Tio's Cervecaria 4-14 Forester St, Surry Hills, 2010

I have a confession to make. This review is going to be dull. I know that it’s not something I should admit, but it’s true.

And do you know why? It’s because the bar does everything right.

I’ve been to Tio’s a dozen times now. The bartenders are slick with the drinks and service, the drinks themselves are varied and delicious (and most importantly, fairly priced!), the music is great… The bar is the ideal of what a small bar should be.

Beyond that, what is there to say?

Seriously, Tio’s gave me nothing to work with. No crusty old characters clinging for dear life to a three legged bar stool, telling stories about street gangs of retirees looking to rumble; no one pinching my cigarettes and trying to sell them back to me; nor the entertainment of the eternal struggle of drunkard versus gravity. In essence, none of the bar elements no one likes drinking with.

Great, you say.

And it is. But what about me?

No one ever thinks about the poor reviewer, forced to write up the same old lines about how great a place is. Tio’s hasn’t even been open all that long and yet the Mexican wave of reviews, all giving the place the thumbs up, doesn’t seem to end.

Tio’s definitely deserves the praise, but it’s made reviewing the place a tedious exercise (albeit a pleasantly tedious one).

Yeah, sure, they have a long list of interesting and tasty cocktails. And yes, a plethora of excellent tequila lines the bar wall. And yes, they do make one of my all time favourite drinks, the michelada, for the mere price of $5 (also the price of a tinnie of Rio Grande). They even give you a side of spicy popcorn, encased in either a brown paper bag or the worst piñata ever made, free alongside your drink.

But all those wonderful facts could be summed up in a two word review: Great Bar.

Job done, now I can go back to Tio’s for a drink.

That’s the problem I had with this bar, it’s too damn good. The only thing I could gripe about (and I will, if only to give the haters something to hate), is that come 8:30pm, the hipsters descend on the bar like a host of bandits upon a defenceless town.

But who gives a shit about hipsters in the end, right?

I mean, a bar that’s fairly priced with a good atmosphere and great drinks is bound to draw a crowd, and surely we’d rather deal with hipsters then bar-flies… well, I suppose they both have their drawbacks.

Now, I don’t want anyone to walk away from this review with a bad impression of Tio’s. You should definitely have a drink or two there. Shit, I’m hooked on the place.

I just want to warn any future reviewers and critics: Enjoy Tio’s, but spare it another positive review.

The poor thing is drowning in success.

Cheers, Daniel Prior

A note from Daniel Prior circa January 2014

"When I wrote this, I knew straight away that it would be my worst review. I went in there and realised there were very little negatives about the bar. Funny how things work like that. Strange thing was, I knew that, after I wrote and posted this, I would strive to make every review better than this one. 

I suppose you need to set the bar for your failures to make sure you don't go any further downhill."

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There Will Be Beer :: Grand Central Bar & Bistro (11/9/2012)

Grand Central Bar & Bistro Central Railway Station, Sydney, 2000

Adrian has a lengthy wait between trains at Central. Like most of us with time to kill, he makes for the nearest watering hole, one surprisingly not far from the platform. Dressed like a gothic detective from the 1930’s, I’ve found Adrian beer in hand at one of Sydney’s most underrated bars. Yes, a bar in Central. He explains the strange lure Grand Central Bar has on him. “It’s an hour between trains for me, so I figured I may as well fill that hour with a few beers and get to know some of the more colourful regulars.”

I’m not sure whether it was his red pony tail poking out under his black fedora, or the scorpion medals pinned to his black smoking jacket; but something about him assured me that he would understand where the real heart of the bar was to be found. “It’s the characters that make this place unique, the sort of people who wouldn’t seem out of place on Oxford St at 3am; but their being in Central at 3pm gives this whole place a different vibe.”

Central Station Bar isn’t tucked away like many of Sydney’s hidden gems, down an alleyway, behind a garage door or above a sushi train revealed only to those in the know. There’s a nice big sign saying, “Grand Central Bar & Bistro” above a big window looking into the bar. The outdoor area sits right next to the Central thoroughfare, so punters can enjoy their pint of beer (which will only set you back $6.00 on happy hour, and an extra 0.50c any other time) in the Sydney sunshine. But still, people walk past it, oblivious to the current of delicious beverages flowing not ten metres away.

Fancy a $6 pint between trains? Grand Central Bar have you covered.

Central Station Bar in itself is nothing special; it’s a bar with stools and benches inside, and chairs and tables outside. They pour beer and wine and spirits of every kind. What makes it a great bar is the characters that stumble in and out of the place. From a self-tattooing bartender named Kaptain, to an aboriginal busker who manages to work “Vegemite” into every song, to the gravel-voiced drunkard who always steals my lighters and can never keep his balance for more than four minutes. The place is just filled with characters that seem to have strayed out of a Hunter S. Thompson novel.

One of the main reasons passers-by don’t recognise Central Station Bar as a pub is because there is no puke-design carpet, no Guinness posters, or any other clichéd pub decorations; blessedly there are no televisions or pokies, for which I am bloody thankful. It’s so nice to be able to sit in the pub and just drink; not catch yourself watching ‘Days of Our Lives’ just because it’s on the telly or lose your money to the dazzling lights and siren call of the pokies. The only thing you have to put up with are the winos, hobos and weirdos that frequent the place; each of whom can be interesting and entertaining one day and as friendly as dingos are to babies the next.

On this note, it seemed odd to me that our mate Adrian, a person I would have associated with the “colourful regulars” was chatting to me as if he were on the outside looking in. Then again, I myself have become a regular to Central Station Bar, so it’s entirely likely that any other supposedly normal person would not think twice about adding me to the line up.

On occasion, you may find yourself seated amongst a wonderfully dull crowd, people who have just finished work/study for the day and wanted to enjoy a nice six dollar pint on their way home (again, pints are $6.00. Interested in going yet?). Other times, you’re bound to end up defending your spare change and cigarettes from the bums, boozers, carousers, drunkards, guzzlers, tosspots, crackpots, misfits, and nutcases that call the place their home away from the other pub they were just hauled, kicking and screaming from.

People I would gladly enjoy a drink with any day.

Cheers, Daniel Prior