The best East Village bars

Getting maced in the East Village might sound like a New York nightmare, but not when you’re at Mace: Recently moved to a new, more spacious venue, this cocktail club is named after the nutmeg-like spice, not the tear gas. Don’t shy away from the namesake drink, a tangy, sweet candied-beet number that’s misted with earthy—you guessed it—mace, right at the table.

Feeling as if it were airlifted right out of the 1970s and plopped onto Avenue A, Lucy’s evokes a nostalgia for the edgy East Village of yore. On a typical weekend night, the charmingly cluttered red-lit space is packed with people of all ages ordering bottles of Miller High Life while Lucy herself (full name Ludwika Mickevicius), a tiny, ageless Polish woman with close-cropped blond hair and a tight smile, holds court behind the wide dark-wood bar.

Attached to Ukranian East Village, an old-school New York spot for pierogis and blintzes, here you'll get a window into a fading version of the East Village. As long as you're respectful to the patrons who've been coming to the bar for decades, Sly Fox might just be perfect. You can order from the adjacent restaurant's menu while chugging $2 PBR. Bring cash though because there's a $20 credit card minimum. 

Three years after the six-decade-old East Village mainstay shuttered its dinted metal doors following the sale of the building, the saloon has been given a new lease on life. And though the place has been spruced up—duct-taped booths traded for green banquettes, neon beer signs for gold sconces—the joint hasn’t been scrubbed clean of its charm.

The nattily attired mixologists are deadly serious about drinks at this pseudospeakeasy with Gothic flair (don’t be intimidated by the imposing wooden door). Black walls and cushy booths combine with chandeliers to set the luxuriously somber mood. Patrons bored by shot-and-beer bars can sample the inventive cocktails as well as top-notch grub.

At this a colorful nook, curious drinkers can find plenty of ways to mix edification and inebriation. The focus here is on amaro and other bitters, which can be explored via tasting flights or excellent stirred cocktails. Sip your way through a range of trendy fernet or herbal liqueurs made by Carthusian monks, then try a modern-day cocktail. 

This cocktail den from the Wayland’s Robert Ceraso—taking over the former home of red-curtained, 15-year-old Simone Martini Bar—draws in a packed house with experimental drinks, raw-bar offerings and warmly personal trimmings (exposed-brick walls speckled with family photos, a reclaimed-wood bar sourced from a partner’s ancestral home in Connecticut). 

Paper Daisy, now in the former digs of Cafe Orlin, takes its name from an Allen Ginsburg poem. Orlin was a meeting-of-the-minds enclave for artists and NYU students for 36 years, until closing in October 2017. We hope this new haunt from the team behind Drexler's, Mister Paradise and Mother's Ruin will truly revive the space's old New York bohemian soul. 

The entrance to this taxidermy-strewn saloon is hidden behind an old phone booth inside Crif Dogs. Pick up the receiver and a hostess opens the back wall of the booth. Inside, a team of barkeeps offer thoughtful cocktail creations perfect for washing down a haute dog brought in from next door. It’s that kind of dedication that makes getting in worth the effort.

The menu is infused with DIY flourishes, crafting proprietary bitters and jams from a pantry of seasonal ingredients. Meanwhile, the memory of Banjo Jim's, a honky-tonk dive that used to occupy the space, is kept alive with Miller High Life longnecks, eclectic tunes on the speakers and an upright piano that hosts the occasional jam session.

This paradisiacal 50-seat revamp of his old Gin Palace space, Ravi DeRossi (Death & Co, Amor y Amargo) recruited a team to rehash the throwback pours and Orient-skewing grub shaped by 1940s tiki culture. Without a single standard-issue tiki offering on the menu—no mai tais or pupu platters here—Mother of Pearl is a postmodern Polynesian affair pioneering new waters.