RAISING A GLASS TO NEIGHBOURHOOD BARS

Destination bars are all well and good but there's a lot to be said for drinking closer to home.

By Gary Sharpen

There used to be a bar, quite some years ago, that was about a five-minute walk from where we live. The design of the space itself was nothing particularly special. Open all day, the lighting worked well enough. Music seemed to cover hip-hop, pop, jazz, soul, reggae, Latin, with no particular rhyme or reason. The food consisted of simple snacks that were pretty good. And then there were the drinks. Now these were always fun. They knew how to pour a beer and open a bottle of wine (both from well-priced selections). As for cocktails…

We have particularly happy memories of the cocktails. They had a few on the menu, some classics and a few original creations. We soon learned, though, it was about who was making them. If it was the assistant bar manager, let’s call them ‘X’, then we couldn’t have been happier. But if the task fell to absolutely anyone else on the team we were in for an absolute shocker. As I say, we learned. If we were served by X then we would order a cocktail and it would always be pretty tasty. If it was anyone else then we would politely go for something else. (Despite well-meaning protests as they were all keen to try their hand at the mixology lark.)

So, why did we keep going back?

Yes, it could have been the convenience, but then there were also a handful of decent pubs and a couple of pleasant wine bars, all within about the same distance. The reason, plain and simple, was the people and the atmosphere they created. The tone was set by the bar team. It was how they made us, and everyone else, feel.

It was as though a few of our friends were running a bar as an open house.

What they lacked in skill they more than made up for in being genuinely nice people. They greeted all of their regulars by name and made new guests instantly feel right at home. Lots of energy, bad jokes, music tracks put on because you mentioned something you liked.

On one particular occasion I dropped in alone for a quick one. Fortunately X took my order and I knew I could get a decent Martini. I then noticed he had made two. When I pointed this out he simply said it was a happy hour two-forone, and swiftly deposited the second into the fridge to await my pleasure. Unorthodox yes, but thoughtful.

And they did these kinds of things all the time. Small gestures. Remembering things you said or friends you’d brought in. Asking how the family was. Bearing in mind that at the time, social media was in its infancy, they also collected people’s mobile numbers. So it was not unusual to get a text message on a grey Monday evening saying something like they were giving away food with any drinks ordered. Yes, it was marketing, but it made you feel part of something.

And feeling part of something is feeling part of a community. In towns and cities, this is especially valuable. Good neighbourhood bars are the urban equivalent of the village hall.

Sadly this bar has gone, a victim of ever-increasing rents in the area, and has been replaced by a barbershop. But we still talk about it to this day.

Times have changed, too. And now, all around the world, it’s not unusual to find neighbourhood bars that actually mix up incredibly good cocktails, serve outstanding small bites, curate clever playlists and more. But what marks out the very best of them is the people. It goes beyond great service. From five stars to dive bars. It’s how they make you feel.

So, if you’re lucky enough to have a great neighbourhood bar, we urge you to support it. And in the meantime, we’ll raise a glass to the great neighbourhood bars of the world.