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Tucked away in the Back Bay at The Lenox Hotel, this bar is a cozy spot for a drink with friends or for making new ones. It's the kind of place you go to if you want to meet someone and have a great conversation about an underground Chicago jazz band, or a great documentary you saw at Music Box; there's no air of desperate singledom. Serving food and drinks, this hotel bar truly has it all. best hookup bars boston

Private cabanas cater to the truly indulgent, while most patrons head to the bar to order a frozen cocktail alongside swordfish tacos or a lobster best hookup bars boston. Live music and a cool, low-key atmosphere file this little bar a recommended stop in the Financial District. Many Cougars pride themselves on staying in great shape, and want a younger man to appreciate their bodies and the handwork they put into looking fantastic. What you're having: A shorty of Genesee cream ale and a caballito of Los Monjos mezcal. Met away in the Back Bay at The Lenox Hotel, this bar is a cozy spot for a drink with friends or for making new ones. It's important to note that The 13th Step is terrible, and that a night here will force you to spend time in a sea of 20-something medico folk, fraternity brothers, and recent college graduates, all of whom will scream in your ear and best hookup bars boston Yuengling pitchers on your shoes. They're coming back, over and over. Enjoy a drink with friends or find yourself making new ones as the the crowd is lively, and you'll always solo someone to chat with. So pull up a chair, grab a knee and see where this frisky night may take you. Because there's something going on in these new bars, particularly in the best of them, that needs more attention. Upstairs, a DJ spins between 30-second samples of Top 40 hits to a dance floor underpopulated by self-conscious bump-n-grinders.

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In 2005, my editors at Esquire came up with the idea of putting together a list of America's best bars—not the best new cocktail bars or sports bars or brunch bars or whatever, but the best bars irrespective of type. As the magazine's Drinks Correspondent, I was to be the pointman on the project. What I didn't know was that I'd be reporting from the front lines of a revolution in how and where Americans drink. Back then, if you knew where to go in New York, San Francisco, Seattle, and a few other towns, you could find a place where the young man or woman behind the bar would carefully crack the ice for your manhattan or El Presidente, precisely measure the ingredients and give them an elegant stir, strain the cocktail into a beautiful glass, and then charge you ten dollars. That ten dollars would not get you bar snacks, a well-stocked jukebox, TV, Big Buck Hunter , darts, a greasy egg sandwich, or a basket of fries. There weren't many of these places, but there were just enough to satisfy the rare cocktail enthusiast. Today, this kind of bar numbers in the thousands, and you can find them in just about every town in the country. Springfield—all of the Springfields. In New York and San Francisco and other places where real estate is expensive, the venerable, homey, and very human old dives are closing and these are opening instead. But here's the thing: This may be a case of the blood of heroes watering the tree of revolution. Because there's something going on in these new bars, particularly in the best of them, that needs more attention. For one thing, these places are full. People are paying double to drink in them, and they're not outraged. They're coming back, over and over. They're putting their phones away well, mostly , forgetting about the game, doing their best to act sober. In my years of visiting these joints, I've rarely seen anybody visibly intoxicated—tipsy, sure; drunk, uncool. The bartenders, their mustachioed, inked hipsterdom aside, are generally studious and hardworking if perhaps too devoted to making things by hand that really don't need to be. All of this while the media and the political class are hyperventilating about the irreparable decline of America. But when you're seated on a barstool, whether it's in Seattle or Sarasota, Salem or San Ysidro, that's not what it looks like. From there, it looks like these bars are the anti-Internet, bringing young people together and rebuilding a society, one martini or beer back at a time, that has kind of come apart at the seams. Where it is: 271 Eleventh Avenue, New York, New York Why you're here: Though top restaurateurs have opened bars before, none have succeeded quite as brilliantly as Danny Meyer of Union Square Cafe and, of course, Shake Shack fame. Meyer's joints have always gone easy on the chefy shenanigans and hardcore on service and hospitality. At Meyer's Porchlight, that means personable, clever bartenders mixing balanced, straightforward drinks. It also means superior bar food. Plus, there's great music and a well-stocked game room. The bar at Good Luck. Why you're here: Even though Good Luck bills itself primarily as a restaurant, its bartenders have been making craft cocktails since 2008 at the big square bar right in the center of the room. It's loud, boisterous, busy. It's also excellent, even down to the okay, now cliché on-tap Moscow Mule, which they liven up, unconventionally, with a splash of Scotch ale. What you're having: A New York Sour. Cocktail: New York Sour Recipe by Chuck Cerankosky of Good Luck In a shaker, muddle 3 Demerara sugar cubes and ¾ oz fresh lemon juice. Add ice along with 2 oz bourbon and shake some more. Strain the cocktail, discard the ice, add an egg white, shake, and then strain again into an ice-filled old-fashioned glass. Using the back of a spoon, float a thin layer of dry red wine malbec is good on top of the drink. Where it is: 364 Grove Street, Jersey City, New Jersey Why you're here: Real cocktails, good food, regulars who know the art of conversation: Believe it or not, this is Jersey City, a short tunnel and a thousand miles away from Lower Manhattan. Extra points for the Dullboy's literary theme and witty atmosphere—the back wall of loosely hung books is particularly amusing. What you're having: A Gibson. Where it is: 1116 Twenty-fifth Street, San Diego, California Why you're here: It's been around since 1950 and kinda looks like it, a hard-ridden reminder of when California represented The Good Life—As Seen on TV. There's a gas grill, right in the middle of the bar, for cooking your own steaks; a piano and a jukebox; and a menu filled with stiff cocktails. What you're having: An Esquire martini gin, please, up. What you're having: An Esquire martini gin, please, up. The bar and restaurant at Turf Supper Club. Where it is: 268 West Broadway, Boston, Massachusetts Why you're here: I do my best to exercise good—okay, goodish—judgment when I'm touring barrooms, but every once in a while, a gear slips a tooth and dosages get miscalculated. Whitey's is a slipped tooth, a place I was introduced to by some Boston bartenders. I have dim memories of having an excellent time—doing big shots of Irish whiskey, writing on the walls, rolling dice, joking around with the regulars. What you're having: Nothing fancy. Where it is: 1015 NW Everett Street, Portland, Oregon Why you're here: With its low-key elegance and intelligent focus on the fundamentals, Teardrop Lounge is a linchpin in America's craft-cocktail bar scene and one of the pioneers that spurred a revolution. What you're having: A Hell or High Water. Add ice, shake again, and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Extract the oils from an orange rind and discard. What you're having: A Cool Jules, a gin-and-port stunner. Unless it's Tiki night—in which case, pick something rummy from the chalkboard. When you're going: Tuesday or Wednesday, when there's live music. Where it is: 1950 West Thirty-second Avenue, Denver, Colorado Why you're here: It's a modern, thrill-ing dive that happens to be owned by Sean Kenyon, one of America's top mixologists. What you're having: A shorty of Genesee cream ale and a caballito of Los Monjos mezcal. Where you're sitting: Out on the deck, with its fine view of the Denver skyline. Where it is: 1113 Decatur Street, New Orleans, Louisiana Why you're here: Because this new New Orleans favorite gives a word like distressed a good name. A few years back, when the owners of Cure, the city's seminal craft-cocktail bar Best Bars, 2011 , took over a vodka-and-absinthe bar a block from the old French Market, they had the good sense to rip out the features and expose the old bones lying beneath. They continued to exploit that good sense by stocking the place with rum, as if to remind us that should you sail southeast from New Orleans, the first place you'll hit is Havana. Add in Caribbean-inspired bar food and bartenders who enjoy their work, and you have a bar that's far easier to walk into than out of. Cocktail: Cane Street Swizzle What you're having: A Cane Street Swizzle. Where it is: 231 Parsells Avenue, Rochester, New York Why you're here: This old German market and smokehouse has good German lagers on tap, fresh kegs, and clean lines. A liter stein costs all of eight dollars, and the crowd is friendly and lively. If it ain't technically a bar, it's as good as one but with better food. If you like German food, this is as good as it gets; if you don't, it's still good. What you're having: Spaten. What you're eating: Jägerschnitzel. When you're going: 11:00 A. At Seamstress, you'll get an excellent one and enjoy a rollicking atmosphere, and if the bar's original creations don't appeal, choose from the list of fifty all-time classics. Where it is: 75 Edward Street, Buffalo, New York Why you're here: It's the only dive bar in America obsessively devoted to presidential history—and it's got great drinks, too. Occupying an 1870s brick livery stable in a handsome old-house part of town, it's draped in flags, paneled in plaques and prints, and strewn with presidential kickshaws. Plus, it offers a deep bench of local brews. What you're having: A pint of whatever is local. Where it is: 113 Rhode Island Avenue NW, Washington, D. Why you're here: There's nothing fancy about the bar itself—draft beer, cheap whiskey, highballs. Put it this way: A book accompanies it, listing the contents of each of the home-burned CDs. What you're having: A five-dollar combo: a shot of whiskey and a can of beer. What you're playing on the jukebox: Anything by Nathaniel Mayer. Where it is: 221 Smith Street, Brooklyn, New York Why you're here: Because co-owner and star bartender Ivy Mix her real name specializes in Latin American spirits and cocktails. Rum, pisco, tequila, mezcal, cachaça—there's more than enough here to build a pleasant buzz on, but there's also Scotch and gin and whatnot. What you're having: A Pan-Am Sour. How long you're staying: Long enough to snack on some panuchos and a poblano relleno. Mixing a drink at Whitechapel. Where you're sitting: The front bar has the best decor, with real Tube tiles and custom faux-Victorian wallpaper with—what else! What you're having: Gin—Whitechapel has almost four hundred of 'em—perhaps in the form of a Dutch Nemesis or kopstootjes: little shots of chilled genever Dutch gin sipped sans hands from the bar with a short beer back. Where it is: 1204 West Mount Royal Avenue, Baltimore, Maryland Why you're here: It's a great dive bar, and great dive bars always have something epic about them, some surprising something that makes you shake your head as you drink your drink. At this substantial redbrick row house turned bar, it's the replica Sistine Chapel on the spacious ceiling—there's God and Adam and their fingers; there's Y-W-H creating this and that; there's Adam and the Mrs. What you're having: A Natty Boh, a shot of Pikesville, and religious thoughts. Why you want to leave: You don't. Where it is: 519 Eighteenth Street, Denver, Colorado Why you're here: Because you'll stand in the little smokers' corral in front of Shelby's and you'll look around—all the way around—and you'll remember that Denver used to be an ornery frontier town, full of crust and character. And then you'll step back inside and call for another round, and the bartender will tell you to shut up and wait your damn turn like a human being. What you're having: Jameson. Where it is: 676 Fifth Avenue, Brooklyn, New York Cocktail: Quarter Bar's Daiquiri Why you're here: Before it was Brooklyn TM, this borough was an unmoored chunk of the Rust Belt right on the East River, and Quarter Bar has all the Rust Belt virtues. Founded in 2007, it's homey and unpretentious and feels like it's connected to the neighborhood. But they can twist you up a fancy New York-style cocktail without blinking an eye or looking at you funny. What you're having: A daiquiri, because they do them right. Whom to ask for: David Moo, and tell him we said hello. Unfortunately, it closed a couple years ago, and there's no point in us listing a place you can't visit. That sends us—and, we hope, you—to. In our first Best Bars feature, we singled out this modern New York classic for proving that a bar today could do everything the legendary bars of the past could do. Years later, it's still doing that. Meanwhile, Pegu Club's bartenders have gone to every corner of America and opened their own bar, establishing the same thing over and over: Pegu was timeless when it opened, and it hasn't changed a bit. To sit there in the cool evening shadows sipping a Pegu Club Cocktail is to be drinking in 2006 or 1936 or 1916.

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