Of all the gin joints in all the world, picking the very best is fraught with
danger. You can recommend a bar where you had a whale of a night and send
along friends who will report back that they didn’t know what all the fuss
was about, or that it was full of poseurs, or the drinks were watered or the
bellinis premixed. However, some bars are so rich in history, so iconic, it
is almost impossible to have a bad time, because you are making a pilgrimage
of sorts, albeit one where you can order a fine drink at the end (not always
a feature of the original pilgrimages). Here are a dozen of our favourites,
not the latest flash-in-the-pan watering holes, but ones that will still be
here when your grandchildren are asking: “Grandpa, what was a Boujis?”
HOTEL NACIONAL, Havana
You get serious cocktail action in Havana, and it is de rigueur to
follow the Hemingway mantra: “My mojito in the Bodeguita del Medio and my
daiquiri in the Floridita.” But where do you take your cuba libre? At the
Vista al Golfo bar (gulf view bar) of the vast (and vastly improved) Hotel
Nacional de Cuba, where you are likely to see the likes of Naomi or Kate and
Ralph Fiennes or Robert Redford (Fidel actually came to visit him at the
Nacional). Inside are pictures of even starrier guests who have stayed over
the past 70-odd years, including Winston Churchill (with cigar, natch), Nat
King Cole, Marlon Brando, Francis Ford Coppola and Frank Sinatra. There are
six bars altogether (including a cigar bar) but the Golfo is the only one
open 24 hours.
Remember the name: Nelson will do the honours.
Make mine a ... mojito (rum, lime, mint, sugar syrup, soda), £1.90,
because cuba libres can get boring.
On the soundtrack: Chan Chan by Compay Segundo.
Call me a 1950s cab: the Nacional is at Calle 21 y O, Vedado, Plaza (00
53 7 836 3564, www.hotelnacionaldecuba.com
).
HARRY’S NEW YORK BAR, Paris
Perhaps because of their memory-twisting nature, cocktails often have a
disputed history. Take the bloody mary. Many think Hemingway invented it at
the Ritz in Paris (in fact, he only came up with a variation on the recipe).
The real thing was created by an American bartender, Ferdinand “Pete”
Petiot, at Harry’s New York Bar in Paris, which claims to be Europe’s oldest
cocktail bar. It was, indeed, shipped over from the USA and opened on
Thanksgiving Day 1911, which means it predates its namesake in Venice by 20
years.
The original 1921 bloody-mary recipe called for equal parts of vodka and
tomato juice, but in 1934, having moved back to the USA, Petiot added black
and cayenne pepper, Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco sauce and lemon juice to
spice up the drink for New Yorkers. He called this the Red Snapper, and the
excellent King Cole Bar at the St Regis, where he did the tweaking, still
calls its bloody marys by that name.
These days, the woody saloon New York style of Harry’s Bar has something of a
Parisian bistro feel, but you can catch the whiff of the jazz/prohibition
age at its well-stocked bar, and a mid-afternoon cocktail still feels like a
guilty pleasure.
Harry’s makes a good combo with the Hemingway Bar (once the Little Bar, which
Ernest “liberated” from the Germans) at the Ritz, which does not open until
the evening – Harry’s kicks off at midday – where ace barman Colin Field
will make his damn fine Picasso martini, and relieve you of £16 for the
privilege. It’s worth every penny.
Remember the name: Alain Da Silva is the bar manager.
Make mine a ... bloody mary (£7.50) or, for the same price, the latest
in a long line of creations, the Web Spirit, in honour of the internet:
mezcal, cranberry juice, lemon juice and peach liqueur.
On the soundtrack: George Gershwin’s An American in Paris. He composed
it on the piano in the downstairs bar.
Call me a cab: Harry’s is at 5 Rue Daunou (Sank Roo Doe Noo, as the
bartenders used to instruct non-French-speakers); 00 33 1 42 61 71 14, www.harrys-bar.fr).
THE CROWN BAR, Belfast
Belfast is full of fantastically quirky pubs, such as Bittle’s Bar and the
Morning Star, but the Crown Liquor Saloon is the only one to be owned by the
National Trust, to have been a film star and to have been lauded by Sir John
Betjeman as a “many coloured cavern”. The pub appeared in the underrated Odd
Man Out, which had James Mason as an IRA gunman making his way across the
city. The flamboyant interior, all ornate tiles and columns, mirrors,
fabulous plasterwork and woodcarvings (mostly originally done by Italian
craftsmen who were in town to work on churches) was feted when it was
unveiled in 1885. During the Troubles, the Crown suffered damage from more
than 40 blasts and when it was time to restore the pub, stills from Odd Man
Out were used for reference. (Bizarrely, they were working from photographs
of a faithful replica of the Crown that had been built in England for the
interior shots.) Cyril Cusack, who appeared in the movie, enjoyed one of the
first postrestoration pints. These days, the pub is crowded with locals and
tourists, and it still has the 10 cosy snugs where, as Betjeman said,
“serious drinkers can hoist their pints in contented privacy”. You could do
worse than join them.
Remember the name: Colum presides over the granite bar.
Make mine a... Whitewater Belfast Ale (£2.80).
On the soundtrack: Van Morrison Live at the Grand Opera House Belfast
(it’s just over the road).
Call me a cab: you can be found at the Crown Bar, 46 Great Victoria
Street (028 9027 9901, www.crownbar.com
). But tell them which snug you’re in.
AUTHORS’ LOUNGE, The Oriental, Bangkok
Why not the jungle-themed, jazzy Bamboo Bar, where you might find Matt Dillon,
Leonardo DiCaprio and Pierce Brosnan? Well, you can move on there, but begin
at the white-rattan Authors’ Lounge, which is housed in the oldest part of
the building, where the original Bamboo Bar was. Here you will find the
spirit of Somerset Maugham, Noël Coward and Joseph Conrad, from the days
when things at the Oriental were less sedate. Gavin Young, author of In
Search of Conrad, describes Bangkok in the early days of the hotel (in the
late 19th century) as being “like the Wild West”. He goes on: “An engineer
named Hitchcock, having ‘forgotten’ to pay his drink bills, was successfully
sued by the Oriental. Having settled his dues at the Oriental’s bar and
seeing Mr Andersen, the owner, standing there, he drew a pistol and took
deliberate aim... the bullet glanced off the wall, ricocheting towards the
veranda.” You can still take cocktails in the Authors’ Lounge or, better,
out on its veranda, watching the sun set over the lush gardens, but you no
longer have to dodge bullets.
Remember the name: Sompong Boonsri is the main mixer.
Make mine a ... rum-fuelled oriental mai tai (£4).
On the soundtrack: Noël Coward’s Mad Dogs and Englishmen (“In Bangkok
at 12 o’clock they foam at the mouth and run, but...”)
Call me a cab: there’s always one waiting outside 48 Oriental Avenue
(00 66 2 659 9000, www.mandarinoriental.com
).
WHITE HORSE TAVERN, New York
One of the two Dylans who drank here is dead. This is a proper old New York
saloon (1880), where Dylan Thomas drank his last in 1953 before expiring at
St Vincent’s Hospital, via the Chelsea Hotel. He was just 39. Bob, on the
other hand, survived. There is a plaque and a Dylan Thomas Room to
commemorate its most famous patron, but the Welsh word wizard who was
finished off by scotch (18 of them, legend has it) was hardly the only
hard-drinking writer who used the Greenwich Village tavern. Hunter S
Thompson partied here and, in the 1950s, Norman Mailer and James Baldwin
were regulars, and Jack Kerouac was thrown out on the road for being more
than one over the eight. Having spent a couple of blurry nights here a few
years back with some serious drinkers, I do wonder how bad you have to get
for that to happen these days.
Remember the name: Bob Walsh will pull you a pint.
Make mine a ... Redhook beer (£2.75). Skip the whisky chaser.
On the soundtrack: you choose. The MP3 jukebox has access to virtually
every track in the world, but can it get Stan Tracey’s version of Under Milk
Wood?
Call me a cab: to 567 Hudson Street, between West 11th Street and Perry
Street (00 1 212 243 9260).
PRAIRIE HOTEL, Parachilna, South Australia
There are only seven locals in total in Parachilna, which is 290 miles north
of Adelaide, but this place is always full of interesting characters, many
of them from nearby (that’s a relative term) mining towns. The Prairie is
the classic, friendly, low-rise, tall-tale-telling outback pub, so much so
that film-makers use it when they want an authentic backdrop – the backdrop
being the Flinders Ranges on one side and the vast, empty, red desert plains
of South Australia on the other. The pub has been used in Rabbit-Proof Fence
and Holy Smoke, as well as the notorious “So where the bloody hell are you?”
tourism ad campaign. It has 12 rooms, a popular pool and a restaurant
serving bush food.
Remember the name: owner Jane Fargher (who with her husband, Ross,
reinvigorated the place, starting in 1991) or Margii, the manager.
Make mine a ... Fargher Lager, brewed specially for the hotel, £2.20 a
pint.
On the soundtrack: Parachilna Sunset by local singer-songwriter John
O’Dea.
Call me a cab: you must be joking, mate. But a bus comes through two or
three times a week. The hotel is on the corner of High Street and West
Terrace, Parachilna, SA 5730 (00 61 8 8648 4844, www.prairiehotel.com.au
).
THE POLO LOUNGE, Los Angeles
There are new celeb hang-outs opening in LA every other week, but few will
ever last long enough to match the wealth of stories woven into the fabric
of the Polo Lounge at the Beverly Hills Hotel. It goes all the way back to
Bogart and beyond: it was here that Raquel Welch was “discovered” at the
pool; that an elegantly clad Marlene Dietrich buried the “no slacks” rule
for women; where the Beatles relaxed after being smuggled into the hotel to
avoid rapacious fans; where Frank Sinatra drank into the wee small hours,
afraid, as always, of calling it a day. Yet it wears its history lightly;
decor is reassuringly classic and comfortable, service is impeccable, even
if they don’t recognise you, and drinks are well made. And while it may not
be the deal-making power it once was, it still gets the stars: it was here
that Kate Hudson and Owen Wilson fuelled engagement rumours recently.
Remember the name: ask for Matt Martinez.
Make mine a ... classic dry martini (£7), vodka or gin, it’s your
choice, there are more than 45 spirit varieties to choose from.
On the soundtrack: Thomas Newman’s music for Robert Altman’s The
Player, with Jack Lemmon on piano.
Call me a stretch: you’ll need picking up from the Beverly Hills Hotel
and Bungalows, 9641 Sunset Boulevard (00 1 310 276 2251, www.beverlyhillshotel.com
).
TOWN AND COUNTRY LOUNGE, Mayflower Hotel, Washington DC
Remember those clubby bars in The West Wing where Toby or Josh would sneak off
to to drown their sorrows, make an assignation or pick up some gossip? Well,
those intimate dark wood and leather watering holes were based on the Town
and Country Lounge in the Mayflower Hotel. Built in 1925, its politico
credentials are impressive, from being J Edgar Hoover’s favoured lunch place
for 20 years to being the site of Roosevelt’s “We have nothing to fear but
fear itself” speech. However, as with many great bars, the secret weapon
here is the weekday barman who works the 5pm-2am shift: Sambonn Lek. He is
the man Raise a glass to Bogie in LA’s Polo Lounge behind the 101 cocktails
on the bar’s list, but his skills go beyond mere mixing – he specialises in
magic tricks. Levitating $20 bills is one of the favourites. He also has the
skill of making money float willingly from his clients’ pockets to his
charity, Sam Relief (www.samrelief.org
), which has built nine schools in his home country, Cambodia, and dug wells
and provided medicine for poor villages. So, who said drinking cocktails
never did anyone any good?
Remember the name: just call him Sam. Make mine a... Sam-I-Am (Ketel
One Citroen, cranberry, amaretto; £8).
On the soundtrack: Let’s Impeach the President by Neil Young.
Call me a limo: Mayflower Hotel, 1127 Connecticut Avenue (00 1 202 347
3000, www.marriott.com ).
ACADEMIA DA CACHACA, Rio de Janeiro
It is unusual to find a bar specialising in just one spirit, but this tiny
hole-in-the-wall is a temple to cachaça, Brazil’s potent cane spirit, with a
staggering 500 varieties on offer. It has a reputation for making the finest
caipirinhas (cachaça, lime, sugar, crushed ice) in town. It isn’t in a
particularly glamorous locale, but it’s the place to check out what the
cocktails should taste like.
Then, make for the Garota de Ipanema, across from the famous beach (with large
windows to admire the views). It was a hang-out for Antonio Carlos Jobim and
Vinicius de Moraes in the early 1960s, when it was called Veloso, and legend
has it that, mesmerised by a teenage beauty called Heloisa Eneida Menezes
Paes Pinto, they penned The Girl from Ipanema there. Sadly, the legend isn’t
quite true: the song was written elsewhere, although the part about the pair
watching Heloisa day after day is true. Although it’s now something of a
tourist trap, you can still sit in the window and watch the beauties of both
sexes walk by – and get a decent cold beer.
Remember the name: Helena is the cachaça queen.
Make mine a ... caipirinha at Academia (£1.50 up), a Chopp beer (70p),
like Jobim and Moraes, at Garota.
On the soundtrack: Brazil Classics Vol 1, curated by David Byrne for
his Luaka Bop label.
Call me a cab: the Academia is at Rua Conde Bernadotte 26 (00 55-21
2529 2680, www.academiadacachaca.com
); Garota de Ipanema is at Rua Vinicius de Moraes 39 (21 2523 3787).
LA CAPILLA, Tequila, Mexico
The town of Tequila (south of Guadalajara) is something of a shrine for
serious drinkers, and La Capilla is its holy grail. It’s a brightly lit bar
– the oldest in town, but that doesn’t mean it’s grand – stuffed with arcane
memorabilia, pin-ups and taxidermy. The tequileros come here for the
batanga (lime, salt, Tequileño Blanco, cola), a drink invented by the patron,
Don Javier, 50 years ago. The bar will be full of locals who speak no
English, Americans who speak no Spanish, and plenty of people incapable of
speech altogether. Payment is mostly by honour system – the owner will ask
how many batangas you have had and you pay him. The trick is remembering.
Remember the name: Don Javier Delgado Corona.
Make mine a ... you virtually have no choice, it’ll be a batanga (less
than a pound normally, but it could be more, might be less – it depends on
the Don’s mood).
On the soundtrack: an eclectic jukebox exists; select Tequila Sunrise
by the Eagles.
Call me a cab: there is no street sign, bar sign, no published phone
number, but everyone in Tequila knows Don Javier.
THE BRAZEN HEAD, Dublin
How do you choose a pub in a drinking city like Dublin? Well, I would follow
the advice of James Joyce, who claimed: “You get a decent enough do at the
Brazen Head for a bob.” Joyce actually got the location of the pub wrong,
and a pint of Guinness will set you back more than a shilling these days,
but the oldest pub in town (which is why the floor is wonky, it’s not the
beer getting to you) is still worth a visit. There is a barmy myth that
Robin Hood imbibed here (well, it did open in 1198). The nationalists
certainly plotted rebellion here in the late 18th century, and Wolfe Tone
and Michael Collins drank here (which is perhaps why the British almost did
for it with their artillery in 1922). The memento-packed interior is
crepuscular and cosy, and there is live music, too – best on Sunday
afternoons. We can’t promise the likes of Van Morrison, Mary Black or
Hothouse Flowers, who have played here in the past.
Remember the name: Podge Byrne and Steven Wilson are the bar managers.
Make mine a ... well, take a wild guess (£2.90 a pint).
On the soundtrack: Quare Things in Dublin by the Wolfe Tones (who have
also played here).
Call me a cab: 20 Bridge Street (00 353 1 677 9549, www.brazenhead.com
).
PLANET CHAMPAGNE BAR, Cape Town
Normally, we disapprove of moving or destroying established bars, but the
dark, heavily panelled Lord Nelson Bar at the Mount Nelson was beginning to
seem tired, a crusty icon of another era. So the hotel decided to put
something more contemporary in its place with the new and – not a word you
would associate with this grande dame – sexy Planet Champagne Bar.
It’s heavily mirrored (so the beautiful people can watch their reflected
glory) with a black and white tiled floor and purple seats; heaven knows
what previous guests Winston Churchill, Margaret Thatcher and George Bush Sr
would think of it, but Robbie Williams, Kate Moss, Colin Farrell, Salma
Hayek and others have certainly taken to it (Farrell reserved a table every
night during his stay). There is also a wonderful garden terrace for
enjoying the charms of other stars – those in the African night sky.
Remember the name: Benson is your man.
Make mine a ... stardust (citron vodka, peach schnapps, blue curacao,
pineapple and grenadine, £2).
On the soundtrack: beats by Derek “The Bandit” Richardson.
Call me a cab: 76 Orange Street (00 27 21 483 10000, www.mountnelson.co.za
).
