Friday, November 26th, 2010—Bar 320

Day 320—Thursday, November 25th, 2010
Ryan's Daughter
It’s Thanksgiving and before I go to tonight’s bar, I’m going to have my Thanksgiving dinner. My friend Joanna invited me to her dinner last year after finding out I had no place to go to. It turned out to be a lot of fun, good food and a few drinks as well. She invited me back this year and so that’s where the bar crawl will start out. And then I’ll waddle over to tonight’s bar, Ryan’s Daughter, which I’ve been meaning to go to and it’s just about five blocks from Joanna’s apartment, so it works out perfectly. Okay, time to put on the old feedbag and start up Thanksgiving!

I love Manhattan on Thanksgiving because everybody leaves to go somewhere else for Thanksgiving and the streets empty out for once. Joanna lives on the Upper East Side, so let's go hail a cab.

It seems you can't escape TV sets these days, they even have them in cabs and they ruin the scenery.

So I'll glance out the side window and ignore the thing. As you can see, it's a bit of a rainy day outside, but it's better than snow. That'll be here all too soon.

And through the magic of the internet, here we are and Thanksgiving has begun! Here's the lovely hostess Joanna with her two daughters, Winkin' and Blinkin.' Let the festivities begin!

The table's all set and the turkey will make its appearance in due time. First let's meet some of the other guests.

Here's Jason whom you've seen on this blog before, but usually he's pictured with Zioum Zioum, but she's all the way back in France. Maybe that's why Jason looks so glum. Cheer up, Jason, it's a holiday!

And here's Sebastian, who's motto is: "An apple a day, brings another week's pay."

John poses with Blinkin' who's transformed herself into a combination of Santa Claus and a catwoman.

While the rest of us have a drink or three, Joanna's busy making a string bean dish that was the hit of the evening.

Hey, it's Thanksgiving, time to put this Halloween shit away!

And the first course is served! John made this dish of fresh antipasto and it's made from an Italian family recipe that's been handed down through the years. It was delicious and I ate too much of it.

A few beers later and it's turkey time! The bird looks beautiful and I'm not sure, but I think Sebastian supplied the apple.

Gobble...

Gobble...

Gobble...I'm not a mind reader, but I think Joanna's thinking, "Will you put that goddamn camera down and eat your dinner?"

Gobble...

And of course since it's Thanksgiving, somebody had to flip the bird, so I decided to be the guy.

Okay, now everyone is completely stuffed. A wonderful Thanksgiving dinner!

These two watched the festivities rather nervously fearing that they may be the next birds in the oven.

And the tryptophan kicks in, part I! I thanked Joanna and everyone and headed out for tonight's bar before I fell asleep.

And here we are, Ryan's Daughter, let's see if anyone else is out tonight.

As I suspected, not a huge crowd, so there's plenty of places to sit.

Mike the friendly bartender serves up a vodka and orange juice. I was afraid if I had another beer on top of all the food I'd explode.

The bar is known for having free bags of potato chips scattered all over and here's a pile of them.

And here I am with a bag of them. I didn't open them as I could barely fit a few drinks into my filled to the brim stomach.

Joe was having a drink at the end of the bar and had a duck umbrella handy in case he didn't find any turkey. Luckily the turkey was found and the duck is safe for another year.

A poster of the movie that the bar is named after hangs on the wall.

And just in case you don't happen to see that one, another poster hangs next to it.

There's a pool table in the back and on most night's its probably pretty busy. This isn't most nights it's Thanksgiving, so it's not in use.

Tables and stools sit opposite the pool table.

A shot from the opposite end of the long, wooden bar. Hey two more people are down there, let's go say hi.

The two lovely women are Peggy and Shana. But who's Mickey?

Why it's none other than Mick the bartender who just came on duty to relieve Mike. In accordance with the bar's theatrical name, they also have a theatre company and they put on plays in the space above the bar occasionally. Mick's a thespian in the group and told me their last play was titled: "A Man Walks Into A Bar." I wish I could've seen that one, as usual my timing is great.

Mashha lives in the neighborhood and told me she loves the bar.

Joe told me he was part of some Scandinavian group, but my notes are garbled and I couldn't find the website. Feel free to put it in the comments section, Joe.

And the tryptophan kicks in, part II! Okay, maybe the drinks had something to do with it too. Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving and goodnight, everybody!

Review
Alright, I have the day off and I have a ton of things to do, so I’m going to copy and paste the review of Ryan’s Daughter from New York magazine. And here it is!

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Among the crush of the UES frat-boy establishments (the Big Easy, Aces & Eights) is this pub venerated by neighborhood old-timers. And by old-timers, we mean an over-30 post-work crowd and longtime Yorkville locals. Movie memorabilia—mostly from the namesake seventies David Lean film about an Irish girl smitten with a British soldier—line the walls, along with vintage photos of Dubliners and assorted tchotchkes like a collection of beer steins, cast-iron pots, and a saddle. Two prosthetic legs hang from the ceiling behind the bar. The twelve-inch TVs with dodgy reception have finally been replaced with flat-screens, but the Chuck E. Cheese–style basketball game still stands in for darts. The staunchly anti-gimmick attitude (unless you count the free bags of chips on tables in the back) and slightly dated aura make Ryan’s Daughter the sort of cozy neighborhood haunt you’d want on your block. Try their amber house ale on tap—it’s somewhere between a Guinness and a Sam Adams. — Abbe Benson & Rachel Wolff

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I really want to thank Joanna for having me over to another wonderful and fun Thanksgiving feast! A great time was had by all!

Ryan's Daughter
350 E. 85th St. (Near First Ave.)
212-628-2613

Wednesday, November 10th, 2010—Bar 304

Day 304—Tuesday, November 9th, 2010
Reif's Tavern
365 commentator, friend and somewhat frequent guest star, Biff, found tonight’s bar for me. Last week when Bifferoonie was in town we went to one bar on the Upper East Side that we hoped wouldn’t be insane on Halloween night. Well, our hopes were dashed as we could hear drunken screams a block away and sure as shit on a shingle, the joint was a madhouse of people bombed to the gills and glocked out of their gourds. Biff said she knew of another place called Reif’s Tavern and it was a winner. A dark, old school dive bar with a friendly bartender named Michelle, behind the bar. We had a good time in there and I told her I’d be back to do an official 365 night there. And, as I’ve done in the past, much to co-pilot Al’s delight, I’ll quote Neil Young and say, “Tonight’s The Night!”

Here we are, Reif's Tavern. As the awning says, it's been on the block since 1942, let's go check it out.

There's a decent crowd in here for a Tuesday night, but I spy a seat in the center of the bar.

And I meet friendly bartender Bob as soon as I sit down. And Bob's not only just the bartender here, he's one of the owners, his last name is Reif. He, his sister, Taryn and his mother now run the tavern.

And a glance upwards reveals a tin ceiling, once again proving the theory that all the best bars have a tin ceiling overhead.

My view of the bar and an obligatory bar room mirror shot all in one.

Some of the beers on draft available at Reif's.

A long wooden railing and stools stand opposite the bar.

Look at this trio of merry-makers. Let's go see who they are.

It turns out they're regulars here at Reif's and very friendly people. From left: Eileen, Toby and Eric.

Eileen and Toby pointed out this picture which is the tavern's logo made up of a composite of every regular from the place. Pretty cool!

Above that picture is a photo of the original owner and barkeep from 1942, John Reif.

There's a nice back room in the bar...

Complete with a state of the art pool table.

There's also a beer garden and according to this sign, it's open. Let's check it out.

Wow, a large space with tables and chairs. There's also gas grills in the back and if you bring your own meat, you can grill it up back here.

Meanwhile, back at the bar, things have picked up, there's quite a crowd here, let's go meet some of them.

This is Boneau who has his own design studio. Check it and some of his paintings at his website here: boneau design.

Bob came over and poured the three of us a shot. Cheers!

(After I left the bar I realized I left my notebook behind, I hope from here on in I have the name's right, but if I screwed up your name, you can correct me in the comments section.) Chilling out behind me were Michelle and Ian (I think.)

I'm pretty sure these guys names are Mike and John, but I definitely know that they're from Chicago, because we had a nice chat about the Midwest and the Billy Goat Tavern.

For some reason I'm completely drawing a blank on this guy's name. He was a real nice fellow and he's the head bartender at the new Lincoln Restaurant in the Lincoln Center, so maybe our paths will cross again.

Here's Rob with a poster of his band, Diesel America. Check them out online here: Diesel America.

Rob gave me an official Diesel America wristband. Kick out the jams, Motherfuckers and goodnight, everybody!

Review
While frat bars continue to pop up like pimples on a 13-year-old’s noggin’ on the Upper East Side, Reif’s Tavern has been a family-owned watering hole since 1942. The front room houses a well worn wooden bar with locals from the neighborhood gathered around it. The bar is one of the friendliest I’ve been to and even if you’re brand new to the place, you’re greeted and treated as a regular. The back room houses a pool table and chairs and there’s an outside patio area that’s open all year long.

There’s a full bar at Reif’s with martini specials on Wednesdays. They offer up a decent selection of draft and bottled beers including: Corona, Magners, Pabst and Miller Light (no wonder Biff likes it in here.) Happy hour runs from Monday to Friday with two buck cans of Pabsts and one dollar off drinks.

They don’t serve food, but you can bring in slices from the pizza parlor on the corner, or if you feel like grilling you can utilize the grills in the beer garden. Just bring your own meat and turn on the gas.

Reif's Tavern
302 E. 92nd St. (Near Second Ave.)
212-426-0519

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Jukebox Request From Tim Clack in New York City

Clacky’s taking a brief break from the bar crawl to do some sight-seeing, but in the meantime he sent in this request for a song by an appropriately titled band, Ausralian Crawlers. Here they are with “Beautiful People.” This goes out to Clacky and all the Aussie mates out there!

P.S.

Fat Al over at the fine blog, The Half Empty Glass has a nice post about our night on the town, check it out here: The Half Empty Glass.

Friday, October 29th, 2010—Bar 292

Day 292—Thursday, October 28th, 2010
Phil Hughes
While Googling around tonight I came up with what I think will be a real winner. I found a bar on the Upper East Side called Phil Hughes that has been around for four decades, so they must be doing something right. Plus, if you’re like me, you’re wondering, “Who the hell is Phil Hughes? Let’s go find out.

The outside of the bar is unassuming and kind of looks like an apartment house, but the Heineken sign gave them away, let's go check it out.

Oh boy, this looks like the real deal here. A dark, quiet dive bar where people come to drink, period.

The bartender was a nice woman, but didn't want her picture taken. She took my photo and then reluctantly said I could take photos after I told her I wouldn't bother any of the people at the bar and would keep my flash off so I wouldn't bug anyone. The following pictures were snapped in about five minutes before she could change her mind. I had to document this joint!

There's lots of booze here, but I wouldn't order a Cosmopolitan if I were you.

An ancient Guinness sign hangs on the wall behind the bar.

I think this cash register is the original deal.

There's dark wooden tables opposite the bar, but none of the regulars sit at them.

Here's a window seat, table for two!

A lantern on this wall illuminates some pictures of sports scenes from the past.

And there's more pictures and a lantern on this brown wall.

There's a pool table in the back room, but I don't think it gets a lot of use. The regulars here use most of their energy to shuffle to their spots at the bar.

Old Glory hangs on the back wall. Somebody cue up The Star Spangled Banner.

After taking my pictures I had a few beers and chatted with a retired sanitation worker at the bar over a few Budweisers. On about the fourth beer I asked the bartender who Phil Hughes was. She told me he was the original owner and that he died a couple years ago. His family now owns the bar and hopefully they'll keep it in business. She pointed to his picture hanging at the bar hugging a dog. I asked if I could take a picture and she smiled and said I could. "Oh," she said, as I walked over to take the shot, "turn on your flash for that one." It was one of those moments that make me glad I'm doing this. TO PHIL HUGHES! Goodnight, everybody.

Review
This is one of the last true old-school New York watering holes. If you’re under 60-years old, you’ll probably be the youngest person in the joint. This bar has absolutely no frills, no specials, no gimmicks and is a true throwback to what a bar should be—a place to sit and throw back drinks in a dark and dank atmosphere. The patrons of Phil Hughes are grizzled and drizzled regulars who shuffle and limp to their bar stools and drink beers and shots. Talk can get lively and then it will fall silent again as everyone takes pulls off of their bottles of bud and straight up scotches.

There’s a full bar here, but the beer choices are strictly domestic and if you order anything more complicated than a screwdriver, you’re pushing the limits here. There’s no food or kitchen, but if you want to bring in a slice from a neighboring pizza place, I don’t think anybody would mind. And if you’re an early morning drinker, like a lot of the retired regulars here are, you’re in luck, the bar opens at 8am.

Stop in and have a drink or two at Phil Hughes and keep a legendary dive bar alive. But leave the plastic at home, Phil Hughes only takes cash...on the barrelhead, son.

Phil Hughes
1682 First Ave. (Near 88th St.)
No phone (The mark of a truly great bar!)