This joint specializes in microbrews and whiskey. Sip, sit back, make some buddies over darts, and even learn a few things from the quotes scribbled on the bathroom floor. True whizzdom.
One of these bars that's never changed despite what's happened to the city around it. Sit at the horseshoe bar and order the negroni, like liquid Miami the way these guys make it.
Don't order a cocktail in here. The crowd of local Irish guys won't let it go. The TVs always have European sports on, so head in for soccer, Gaelic football, rugby, what have you.
The place's a bit of a dive, but the music keeps packing in the people. The cheap drinks don't hurt, either. Order PBR, in a can. Tall boys if they have them.
The Boston cream pie was born in the building, there's a warm bowl of nuts at every table, and the whiskey list is long and beautiful. For something different, check out the alcoholic coffee drinks.
They say George Washington and Paul Revere drank at this bar built in 1780. It's full of locals, and looks like the place sailors drank themselves stupid 200 years ago. Order a Sam to keep it real.
D.C.'s a newspaper town. This place gets that. Do yourself a favor: Buy the Post, order the Front Page Mule, sit down before things get too busy, and really read the news for once.
This spot was once a 3-floor mansion. It still has working fireplaces, antique chandeliers, and upholstered furniture. Pay the cover. You're sure to reap the rewards.
Forget the kids dancing in the boom boom room. Find a seat tucked back in the Red Room. The bar's well stocked, and they serve health food until 2 a.m. Better for that future hangover of yours.
Live blues every night, soul food, and half-priced Rolling Rocks to redheads. Find your Juilanna Moore upstairs at the "Big Daddy's Love Lounge and Pick-Up Joint." No, really, they named it that.
The owner says this brewery was the first to churn out booze after prohibition. And they have a drink to prove it: the Prohibition Porter. Order one up and toast that you weren't born in another era.
Manly (and strange) decor marks this watering hole, which offers an oasis from D.C. grad students and suits. Get a pint of Red Hook. They're three measly bucks on Thursdays.
Order a plate of half shells from the blackboard. Then, have the bartender pull you anything from Allagash (a brewer in Maine). and suck those little guys down with some horseradish and Tabasco.
Books and brews? Not a bad idea. The literate choice here is clearly a Bell's Two Hearted Ale. Leave the mango martinis to the Cliff's Notes types.
Do yourself a big favor and ask to look at their Beer Bible, which includes divine brews like the Flemish Sour Ale. It just might make you religious.
The gravy French fries taste even better with a local brew (try the Kenzinger), and they're delivered by girls with skirts so short they look like they're made with cocktail napkins.
You owe yourself a nip from their gin and rye collections—their cocktails are king, especially the Manhattans. Yes, even in Philly.
Everything but the urinals were built by hand. The booths are made from reused bowling alley wood. Even the stage is a do-it-yourselfer. Come for the beer, stay for the woodworking lesson.
All you need to know is that this place stocks the best pierogies in Philly. Order them with "a lager." (It's really Yuengling, but say it that way and they'll know you're not from around here.)
They built this bar inside the walls of the old National Mechanics Bank. 18 taps. A great whiskey list. Most adventurous, but crazy good, things to order? Bacon vodka or jalapeno tequila, straight up.
Treat the beer menu like a to-do list and then head to the balcony upstairs to catch a better view of local bands. There's also a secret bar up there with shorter lines.
Spend 5 minutes in this brightly-lit beer bar. Have something local on tap—maybe a microbrew (ask for what's fresh). Soak in the service. Repeat.
You've got to respect a place that opens at 7a.m. some days just to host a big soccer matchup. They've even got a European draft system so Guinness pours like Guinness should. Authentic enough for ya?
Out front, snap a picture of the Frank-filled mural (Sinatra, Zappa, and Saint Francis of Assisi all in the same place). Then get Frank's special: a pony Rolling Rock or High Life and a kamikaze shot.
The clam chowder—sorry, "chowdah"—is great. So are the local crowd, the 30 beers on tap, and the TV screens. Show up early, though. The place packs them in.
Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA is the beer of choice at this Cold War-themed dive bar that features darts, cheap beer and all-night $2.50 hotdogs. You're welcome, comrades.
Two-for-one appetizers from 2 p.m. to 6 p.m. every day. Can't beat that. And order the Smithwicks as the locals pronounce it: "Smiddicks."
Sit near the window, order a Bud Light and people watch at this dive outpost in one of the most well-to-do neighborhoods in the city.
Check out the mini-burgers‚ which are 3 for $10. And wash it down with Lucky's Strike: Jack Daniels, amaretto, coke and sour mix.
This jazz dive opened in 1934 and keeps that old school vibe alive and well. Try the Hammer. Brandy, amaretto, orange, cranberry and pineapple juice, topped with a cherry and fruit slice.
The place has more than 100 brews, and if you can't make up your mind, the bartender just spins a wheel. Order your beer, then get a peanut butter burger. Trust us, it's better than it sounds.
Zeke's stocks 130 beers and every bottle costs four measly bucks. One of the best bets: Zywiec. A beer from Poland that'll make you polka.
This bar does one thing: beer. And they do it well. Try their Immaculate IPA. The name doesn't lie.
Always thought bocce was a game for Grandpa? Throw back a couple bourbons and the tables will turn, my friend. Don’t fret if there’s a long line for the court—enjoy some good ol’ Kentucky beercheese.
Being sent to the doghouse a bad thing? Not here. There’s a fenced-in pool table in back with the occasional drunkards barking at each other. Plus, the owners love vintage beer cans…but who doesn’t?
This joint specializes in obscure and rare beers. Hansje Drinker Triple? Zum Uerige Dusseldorf Alt? Hard to pronounce, let alone find the fridge. Luckily, these barkeeps know their beer.
Kickball with a beer seem a bit sacreligious? Get over it. This bar lets you embrace your inner child—it’s stocked with vintage arcade games—while allowing you to keep a hand in your adult life.
Yearning for some Oktoberfest in the Big Apple? Look no further. This industrial warehouse turned German bierhaus serves weinerschniztel and Bavarian pretzels. Say no more.
Nearly every New York City bar serves this local joint’s brew, but swing by the place itself. From 6 p.m. to 11 p.m., pay $4 for a wooden nickel and redeem it for any beer the place brews.
There are a few types of guys it is always worth getting to know. One is a bartender, the other is a pastry chef. Here, you can do both. Go ahead, order that chocolate-hazelnut pudding and a beer.
This place is huge—15,000 feet, former warehouse huge. It’s so cavernous that it becomes like a dozen private bars. Just watch out for couples getting…a little too cozy on the couches.
If it was up to par for George Washington—he famously toasted to his officers in the tavern’s long room in 1784—it’s good enough for us. You’ll feel proud just sitting there.
Order the bistro burger—it can kill you if it so desires. Wash it down with dirt-cheap beer from the tap. You’ll want to sit near the front, at the giant windows, to watch passersby drool as you chew.
One drink here and you might be ready to move to Mexico, learn Spanish, and resettle. They serve pork belly and steak, and you can drink tequila underneath a huge tarantula-shaped chandelier.
Finally, a bar for the hockey fans. Run by Sean Avery, this place is like a love letter to the game. It feels just like a post-game locker room, if locker rooms had tabletop video games.
This place is a foodie haven—100 plus wines, grilled calf liver, all that jazz. The best part though? Kitchen’s open until 2 a.m., and those guys make a mean blue-cheese burger.
The vague name has beer geeks in the outdoor garden arguing about it means. One thing that’s certain? They have damn good beer—350 bottles and 16 taps worth.
The wall of antique clocks is surprisingly relaxing, watching them tick on, unaware of their age, as you drink, fully aware of yours. If you need a distraction, go for the smoked gouda mac ‘n cheese.
You’ve got to be crazy to stand out in New York. Near fanatical. Like this place is about their beer—draught, aged, vintage, cask. Luckily the help on hand can keep you sane while you try to order.
It used to be a horse stable, and the bathroom is an old elevator. Ship plans hang on the walls. The vintage cocktails are strong. Order a Negroni, like a fisherman would do after a big day's catch.
Heaven: sitting in a darkened, romantic bar that looks pre-Prohibition, sipping smart concoctions made by smart barkeeps, making this place heaven on earth.
This place’s happy hour laughs in the face of the word “hour”—it runs from 4 to 9 p.m. Beers are $3 (and PBR is $2), one of the best bargains in New York City. Can’t beat that.
There’s no standing room here. Only groups of four or less are served. If there’s horseplay, they toss you out. Sound crazy? At this place, unmarked and hidden in a Japanese restaurant, it just works.
It’s a jazz joint with real palm trees and amazing cocktails, made by a legend in the mixed-drink world. It may look a little pretentious, but you can’t deny the truth: the drinks are good. That good.
If you have the energy to close out a night right, this is the place to do it. They filmed some of Crocodile Dundee and Godfather II here, to give you a sense of its grand tattered quality.
Don’t be misled by the name. It’s called Dive because it’s aquatic themed, and well, because honestly it’s 75% dive beer. Great beer selection, and a rare Upper West Side bar with character.
Once a Laundromat, the low-key crowd and decent wine list make this the perfect place to chat. With no laundry going on, you don’t have to show off your ratty underwear until later. If you’re lucky.
I am not a rich or dangerous man. But if I were, I'd sit in the plush, red nook of this Scottish bar, past the portraits of kilted Scots in wartime victory. Try the grapefruit and vodka hand squeezed.
It’s as close as you can get to nature in New York City—dead forest creatures around the walls at Freeman’s. If you can find the hidden door, try a few drinks—they’re fantastic—and so is the meat.
This place is pure kitsch, in the best possible way. Concert and movie posters all over, a crowded pool table, and stuffed crows perched on the rafters. What to drink? Something cheap…anything cheap.
Ever been to the catacombs? This is like it, but better—there’s beer. You enter into a dim, tomb-like underground. The beers are imported and largely monk-made. Ask for a Trappist recommendation.
This sprawling bar has themed rooms: the library, the arcade, and so on, and feels just like a good old game of Clue. They have great beers, and great mini-pastrami sandwiches. See you in the library?
Don’t leave this bar without ordering The Slice of Heaven. Only available for a half hour starting every Saturday night around 2:30 a.m., deep friend bacon and a shot of your choice. Nuff said, right?
The owners took an old farmhouse, stuffed it with weathered tables, an art gallery of local stuff, and a heck of a beer list. Grab a drink, walk around. Sometimes the best seat isn’t a seat at all.
Do yourself a favor and rile up your tasted buds with a glass—or three—at this bar while you wait for a table at the same owners pizza shop next door. Hint: these Italians know how to pick their wine.
Instead of leaving something behind, in this bathroom, you take something with you. The stuff on these stalls may have well been tattooed on my forehead because I’m not forgetting them anytime soon.
It’s so hot outside, this is the perfect place for a touch of suds to take the edge off the road. Order a beer from the coldest part of the fridge, you’ll be glad you did.
You’ll never see as many loud shirts and sparkled dresses as you do at this dive. Words of wisdom: Wear black, and keep your cool when they tell you happy hour started at 6 a.m.
Motorcycles always bring in good people, and this bar is full of ‘em. Want to hear a few stories? Find the guy with most black leather and patriotic patches. Order a Jack Daniels, it fuels long rides.
It’s the life of a frontier man—ride west all day, sip some whiskey around the campfire all nite—but with just the whiskey part. Order a $3 Crown and Coke. Save your cash and class for your next date.
It takes a lot to get people outside in Phoenix. But hell, here, the grass bocce ball court, incredible menu, and big outdoor chairs make it so that you’re missing something if you stick to the AC.
When you’re sick of blaring lights, ritzy restaurants, and the sound of clinking quarters, come here. Order a big beer and a barbeque chicken pizza. Rested? Get back out there for some $3 blackjack.
Order up some caviar and vodka at this Soviet Union-themed bar in the Mandalay Bay casino—they’ll serve it on a solid block of ice, literally. Grab some friends for some mutually assured destruction.
The casino cocktail waitresses are great, but the girls here are dressed up in lederhosen, bearing 74 oz. steins of dunkel, and set to a backdrop of accordion music. Doesn’t get better than that.
It’s not the flashiest little joint in Vegas. But after a whiskey or two, a cigar, and a good twenty minutes cradled inside a leather chair, you’ll realize it’s exactly what you needed.
The owner’s a beverage operations professor at UNLV, and runs this slight obsession on the side. His place houses 400 tequilas, 600 whiskeys, and 916 beers. It’s your best guess what to order.
Locals come here. There are bartenders that aren’t concerned with your singles or drinks that don’t come in test tubes. Just ask for whatever the cutest girl at the bar is drinking.
The Brits know how to do it. In every city, I can count on there being one great pub. And with this joint, Sin City is no different. Grab fish ‘n chips and a Guiness. And no, not in a bottle you Yank.
At this family-owned bar, the beer comes from the brewery’s giant tankards that you can see, working hard to churn out beer so fresh you swear you’ll never go back to the bottle.
The rain's not bad when it gives you the excuse to spend the afternoon in a bar like this. Peso’s has a Latin feel that's not shoved in your face with piñatas and tequila. To drink? A marg—no frills.
Belgium cranks out some of the biggest, boldest beers out there. If Belgium’s making it, you can bet this bar has it on tap. Whatever you order, slug it down with a bowl of mussels and plate of fries.
This isn’t your strip mall billiards room. Order a $5 PBR and a slice of pepperoni or cheese pie (it’s New York-style pizza). Heck of a dinner.
If you’re yearning to bring Fido to a bar, here’s the place. Pugs, great danes, poodles—there’s no wingman like man’s best friend. Oh, and order a PBR 40 in a paper bag. For you, not the mutt.
It’s anyone’s guess why someone would turn an old mortuary into a place to drink. But after a few rounds in this dimly-lit cathedral cantina, you’ll realize why. Order a John Doe…it’s deadly.
You’ll never order a whiskey this joint doesn’t have. Or a bourbon. Or a liquor. Try The Last Word cocktail: gin, maraschino liquor, green chartruse, and lime juice.
You’d probably visit the silver screen more if they built ‘em like this. You tell the in-house bartender your seat, they bring you a drink. Order The Bogart, in honor of film’s last real leading man.
Remember how much fun the carnival was as a kid? Okay, now add a fully stocked bar and you understand the idea behind this place. Order a blue moon, hold the orange, and find the Pinball Cove.
Seattle isn’t exactly paradise when it comes to weather. This bar was right to steal the vibe from the always-sunny country of Cuba. Get the Paper Tiger: gin, lemon, blood orange bitters.
The owner used to be a mortician—dead serious. It’s no surprise though, with the real freak shows and bizarre museum. Order the Alligator Juice, it’s one of the more normal things on the menu.
This place gets LA glitz right: a Rat Pack vibe and a killer leather-padded circular bar. Do yourself a favor and order the Broadway Caipirinha: Leblon Cachaca, muddled limes, and simple syrup.
No worries, this power company’s a lot better than the one bugging you for the bill at the end of the month. Plunk yourself on an old leather couch and treat yourself to an Edison Light Beer. Get it?
The rule on theme joints is you can’t force character. Unless that character is Black Bart. Who doesn’t want to sit around a powder keg drinking with his mates? Naturally, order a bottle of rum.
This family-owned joint is still alive and kicking after 25 years. Credit the living-room feel, classy outdoor seating, and heady dose of humility for the Sunset Strip. Grab a Stella from the tap.
Unlike half of L.A., it doesn’t matter what you look like at this bar. Maybe that’s why the drinks are so cheap, yet so strong. Go to? Whiskey soda, although, not sure how much soda you’ll taste.
This place’s liquor license dates back to 1905. That’s before the Ford Model T. Which means you can order drinks to go. To. Go.
This place has low lights, lavish drinks, and plenty of velvet. The guys love it, but the women love it more. Show her her idea of a good time and you’ll soon find your way to yours.
The idea of drinking in places where you’re not supposed to brings back a guilty fun, like passing notes to pretty girls in grade school. Drink of choice? Their “I’ll Take Manhattan.” Cheers, Dickens.
The big difference between this bar and 95% of the others in L.A.: it knows it’s tacky. Drink with Smokey the Bear, talk up waitresses dressed as forest rangers, and hangout with robotic wildlife.
This joint feels like the house of the coolest guy on the block back in the 70’s, complete with a basement bar and a billiard room. Order whiskey with a couple ice cubes. Just like dad used to drink.
Sadly, a man cannot survive on beer alone. Luckily for us, God invented meat. Taste one F.O. burger with sweet potato fries and a microbrew. Heaven sent.
The taxidermy on the wall is reason enough to stop at this roadside joint north of L.A. The taps aren’t half bad, and that pulled pork will fill you up good for a day on the road.
Here, the bar is a stage, and the tenders are the actors. High ceilings, giant mirrors, hell, even curtains to either side of the bar. Snag a Maloney Negroni, then watch the performance.
You may not be a Cubs fan now, but after two hours of cheap drafts, Chicago-style dogs, and Midwestern women sporting pinstriped jerseys, you’ll be calling yourself a resident of Wrigleyville.
With beer, there’s a story behind every bottle. That’s why there’s genius in this bars beer menu. Those stories? Right there in black and white. Read up, boy, then drink up.
You walk in and Rosa’s there hanging out. Her mostaccioli is on the menu. She’s tapping her foot to some of the best blues this side of the Mason Dixon. Now that’s style. Grab a domestic and dig in.
Need a meal of substance after all those Chicago dogs? Head to this burger bar for a mound of ground meat. Oh, and don’t leave without ordering a bourbon on tap. That’s right.
For those 30 days when winter is gone, this place is as close to heaven as you’ll get—pint glasses of basic brew and a good plate of BBQ on a picnic table. It’s the simple pleasures in life.
Where they won’t floor you with décor (what do you expect from a 100-year-old house?), they do it with the music and rye. Order The Wooden Leg, named after an old bartender’s band.
Yes, maps line the walls. But the real attraction is the beer list. You can travel from Belgium to the U.S. to Germany and to Ireland all from your barstool. Try the beer of the month. Genius concept.
Whatever cultures collided to bring a beer garden, a BBQ pit, and a biker bar together did it right. Snag a Spaten Premium Lager. It sticks with your ribs. And there will be a lot of ribs.
The bartenders here know the value of detail. They’re throwing blackberries into caipirinhas. They’re juicing oranges behind the bar. Grab a caipirinha, here they do it right.
These old-timers are keeping things on the hush-hush, and not just with the lack of a marquee. No cell phones. No cosmos. No standing around at the bar. Get a Buffalo Trace bourbon. Taste the history.
If you need to forget things for a while, this place is your go-to. The raunchy comics will have you on the floor if the Bloody Mary’s don’t do it first.
The owners here worship beer. They’ll talk your ear off about the 100-plus beers in the back. It would be overwhelming if it wasn’t so damn genuine. Ask for a local brew and win their attention.
All you need to know is that these blues and boogie musicians laid the groundwork for whatever’s blasting out your car stereo today. Grab a whiskey sour and listen up. You’ll like what you hear.
Ladies in this profession don’t get enough credit. The women here won’t take heat from anyone, and they pour a damn good drink too. Show a little respect and they might pass you a free plate of BBQ.
Here’s a genius concept: buying beer? Drink some as you’re shopping. This mom and pop shop packs in more than 300 beers to buy and a few on tap to taste. Find it in the fridge? Drink it at the bar.
Every man should visit this bar, which requires men to give their seats to the ladies. And guess what, guys? There are more girls here because of it. Grab a chimay, she’ll like it too.
Maybe it’s the Asian menu and views of Golden Gate Park that attract the ladies to this place. A sports bar where you can bring your girlfriend? This may be a relationship-saver, my friend.
A former ironworker’s shop that serves some of the best BBQ north of the Mason-Dixon. Order the smoked prime rib medium rare and sit at a picnic table, take in the butchery charts and dig in.
Here it’s simple, no frills. They’ll wind you down the way people have been doing it for years: a nice whiskey and a good cigar. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
If the college-friendly bands on the red velvet stage is not your scene you can find a spot with the old timers out in the Pachinko room, an outdoor patio lounge. Go for a Lone Star—it’s cowboy fuel.
It’s dark and there’s not a TV in sight, so you can give her your full attention. She’ll appreciate the cocktail list, too. These guys know their way around a mixed drink. Try The Brave…if you dare.
It’s worth it to come here for the pinball. Granted, it’s harder to be a wizard after a few Poison Girl shots, but it’s not rocket science. Had enough shots? Go for The Jones: ginger beer and bourbon.
The closest you can get to the circus without Barnum & Bailey. If the live pianists and pink elephants get to you, grab a cold beer (preferably from Saint Arnold, a local brewery), and a cushy seat.
This hot sun makes a man crave something strong. The walls of this place are filled with taps, and not a Bud logo in sight. Go for the Saucer Black n Tan: Sierra Nevada Pale ale with Guinness on top.
Apprehensive about the whole country western thing? Wait until they kick on the jukebox, the cowgirls start doing shots, and the bar crowd hits the dance floor. What to drink? Jeremiah Weed vodka.
Houston’s humidity will make you do nothing. Here’s the best bar to do it. Sit outside—there’s a roof over the outdoor seating—and order an iced screwdriver. You’ll never go back to ice cream.
Nothing says a good time quite like a fifteen-feet armadillo outside your bar. The inside houses Old West memorabilia, shuffleboard, and a line-dancing floor. Order a Lone Star, you’ll fit in fast.
Yes, the name is Houston spelled backwards. But there’s nothing overly complicated about this place. The later you stay, the harder it is to leave.
The guys here are mixing cocktails like pros, shucking oysters, and arranging mammoth shrimp onto plates. Order as much food as you can, and wash it down with a Luke Export—only available here.
You’re walking into history when you walk in here. Restaurant opened in 1918—it’s been through it all. Drink of choice? The French 75, their signature cocktail. Heck, have a few. It’s Nawlins.
Legend has it that when Ernie K-Doe went to the big blues bar in Heaven, his widow opened up this shack, where you can catch great acts and the occasional Louisiana fish fry. Ask for what Ernie drank.
Fried oysters, on a big honkin roll, with mayo, lettuce, and hot sauce. Say no more. Grab an Abita, a local beer that goes great with the city’s deep-fried menus.
Gotta love an establishment that loves a good classic. They haven’t touched anything at this bar for 150 years. Order a sazerac and an absinthe frappe.
The entertainment is so good it can play to a mellowed crowd, calming even the most rowdy of residents. Here? A live European jazz band. Order a liter of beer, you’ll be here a while.
The bar spins. And not in the “I’ve had a few too many it’s spinning way.” A little hokey, but a trip or two around is worth it when you taste the tender’s first drink. Best bet? A Ramos gin fizz.
It’s plush. It’s refined. It’s the perfect place to bring your girl for a Hurricane before things really get wild. Order two Adelaide Swizzles. Don’t worry about the name. It’s damn good.
Come during the early afternoon. Bring Rover (yes, he’s allowed here). Buy a stogie. Fill a rocks glass. Sit outside. This is what it means to be a man, not to mention man’s best friend.
This Irish joint has a bar that’s 70 feet long. The ladies (not professionals) love to dance on it. Grab a Harp, sit back, and enjoy the show.
This joint’s your taste of the high life. Grab a seat in one of their big beautiful rooms, order yourself something nice, and take it all in.
It could use a little work out front, but the inside will take you by surprise. If the old-school video games, wood-paneled bar, and Big Ted Deluxe burger don't grab you, the view of the city will.
Here, they do the house party the right way. First, it’s an old senator’s mansion, which helps. And there’s ladies, who come because every room has live music. But grab a vodka, for old time’s sake.
If you want sweet drinks and tchotchkes, go to Bourbon Street. Here, all you’ll find are locals, some cheap 24-hour drinking, and an endless supply of bar stories. Go for the basics: Miller or Bud.
Feed your growing bones with a shepherd's pie or (heck, and) some Guinness Beef Stew. You'll have the base you need to survive a long night of hard drinking here. To drink? Go for Smithwick's.
So, what’s in a name? Exactly. It might just be called “Bar,” but it’s so much more than that. Set in an old automobile showroom, it’s got a lot to offer. Microbrews? Check. Brick oven pizzas? Eat up.
Fancy outsides don’t mean a thing if you’re rotten inside. This joint is slick and covered in trendy déco but damn, they back it up with a killer cocktail. Get the Original Rye Sour-whiskey.
Some see an old firehouse and immediately think condo. This buyer thought big. Recording studio, performance space, and more, with a bar downstairs. Pull up a stool. These guys won’t stir you wrong.
Bikers bring some of the best company around. That’s why a stop by this haven of hogs is always worth it. Pay your respects with a few sliders and a couple of pints—preferably Motor Oil beer.
Where else can you drink Oktoberfest beer, year round, from a boot-shaped stein the size of your thigh? Gerald Ford and Ronald Reagan drank here. Go for the Spaten Season—Oktoberfest…because you can.
Brew pubs can be a gamble. But this spot won’t steer you wrong. Try Railyard Ale. One sip and you’ll realize they know their stuff.
Okay, look. Pete’s doesn’t serve hooch. So why go? Simple. It’s the best place to hit the morning after bender. One of their burrito bowls smothered in green chili will put you back among the living.
Okay, look. Pete’s doesn’t serve hooch. So why go? Simple. It’s the best place to hit the morning after bender. One of their burrito bowls smothered in green chili will put you back among the living.
Okay, look. Pete’s doesn’t serve hooch. So why go? Simple. It’s the best place to hit the morning after bender. One of their burrito bowls smothered in green chili will put you back among the living.
Fresh brewed beer. Billiards without daiquiri stains. Food served on platters. No wonder the states mandate closing hours, or you’d never leave this place. Start with Peck’s Pilsner, go from there.
It’s simple here. No. 8 if you want to split bratwurst with buddies, and No. 38 if you want one to yourself. Do yourself a favor, snag a side of mac and cheese. To drink? Easy, the Old Fashioned.
The owner lives in this old house. The first floor is now a neighborhood bar, and the walls creek with what he—and ghost hunters—swears is a crew of old souls. Snag a pale ale, and say your prayers.
Bullet holes. That’s what you have here. They’re in the 1930s-looking taproom and reportedly came from the gun of famed Prohibition agent Elliot Ness. So, why not down a few Elliot Ness Amber Lagers?
There’s no better deal in town than the sampler of its homemade beers, which go for only a few bucks. These little glasses are a victory lap around all the Bud and Bud Light on tap elsewhere.
This little shack on the side of the highway has fresh seafood and cold beer, and attracts people who don’t seem rushed about anything. Your best bet? Baily’s Banana Colada. It’s a Cyril specialty.
Funny finding a place like this in a strip mall. The joint offers more than 100 beers from around the world, pizza, and sports on TV. Snag a Bitburger, and soak up all America has to offer.
The Germans, as it turns out, know how to make a hell of a crisp brew. Saddle up in the bar attached to this German restaurant, and order from its wide range of unpronounceable German beers.
All you have to know is that this cocktail joint hand-writes a fresh menu every day and then they deliver. They're Generals of Gin. They're Captains of Cognac. They’re Bosses of Brandy. Trust them.
Big barrel tables. Bigger burgers. No-bull clientele. They don’t mess around. Neither should you. Try a Pilsner Urquel—nice burger beer.
At a place like this, even a non-seafood lover can eat it all day. It’s a red shack with picnic tables. There’s beer too, which will encourage anyone to stay. Go for Blue Point, it’s the local brew.
If you need a place to bring a friend, this is it. This hardware store turned bar serves up food that is organic, free-range, and local.
There are no seats at the bar. You stand, put your foot up on the railing,and chill. That's how it goes at Foley's. Get your whiskey and knock it backfast.
Boston's long been an Irish town, and this is straight out of the oldcountry (it even has a fireplace). Try the Shepherd's Pie and drink in theauthenticity.
This place often hosts bingo nights, with the hosts giving out gag prizes tothe winners. Specials include $3 PBR and Beam. Can't beat that.
They specialize in drinks made in the pre-Prohibition days. So reminisce todays gone by with a swizzle.
Here's how you get in: Enter Crif Dogs, and veer left into a phone booth.Bam: you¹re inside. Enjoy the kitsch on the walls and try to avoid thecalorie-busting deep-fried hot dogs (if you can).
Can a land-locked state deliver tasty oysters? Hells yeah. Six half-shellsplus a tall draft adds up to one of the best ways to beat a hot day in'Zona.
Just like the name promises, this place has an old school vibe that invitesall manner of Vegas characters. Oh, and order a bacon martini. Not becauseit¹s good, because you can.
A good place to find refuge from the more chaotic places in the Vegas scene.Order two martinis, one for your baby and one more for the road.
Beer drinkers take a sip and say "damn that's good." At this brew shrine,all the best lagers and ales require a few words, followed by a moment ofsilence.
This bar proudly advertises the fact they don¹t have a TV. Instead its BingoMondays, live rockability, and board games. Hey, nothing wrong with a littlesocialization.
When your bar is housed in the building that's survived prohibition and anearthquake, you know it's rock solid. Grab a Big Daddy, a local beer.
Grab a seat at the far end of the bar, within earshot of the famouslycolorful keep. It's the cheapest form of entertainment this city has tooffer.
Far from the main strip, highway right outside the door—this is a bar thatdefines "off the beaten path." Order something clean and simple. Bask inanonymity.
