In a neighborhood whose defining feature is esprit de corps born of inaccessibility, Sunny’s feels a bit like Redhook’s city hall. The waterfront location has been home to a bar since 1890, so over a century of people have passed through the doors. It may be inconvenient to get to, but that only adds to the feeling of rarity and sincerity and camaraderie to be found therein.
Sunny’s is a maritime bar in its bones, but the mood is unforced and doesn’t define the place any more than its back room’s weekly bluegrass jams. Nets, buoys, and nautical knickknacks fade into the background behind a long, scarred bar that’s seen Red Hook through the decades. Seating is smattered throughout with tables and booths of different configurations and sizes, so you can just as easily have a romantic interlude or boisterous party here. On the street, wind off the water encourages layers nine months of the year, but there’s warmth to spare inside and a small courtyard in which smokers can take refuge.
Drinks are straightforward and priced as such. Drafts from local heroes like Strong Rope, Threes, and Talea beside the domestic bottles and cans you’re picturing. There’s a small natural-leaning wine slate if that’s your pleasure. If you’re after a cocktail, something in the Dark & Stormy/Moscow Mule/Sea Breeze zone is hand-in-glove. If you’re wanting something more complex, go ahead and try it out on the night’s bartender who may come armed with cocktail acumen an itchy trigger finger, but don’t be offended if they decline. It’s a bar that treats adults like adults and expects you to act the part; entitlement or snootiness will only yield dirty looks from locals.
There’s no kitchen. Red Hook is deep with excellent options for eating before or after, so plan accordingly. Failing that, go ahead and ask the bartender if they’re okay with you bringing food in or ordering delivery–more often than not, they’re fine with it. Hometown BBQ (one of if not the single best barbecue spots in NYC) is around the corner and does the job a treat. Just saying.
The place’s location does make getting there a bit of a pilgrimage and there’s no way around that. You can take the B61 bus, the G or F trains to Smith-9th and hoof it the grim mile-and-a-half, bike the cobblestones if your seat can stand the abuse. Or you can just suck it up and take a taxi and consider that your toll for entry. Once inside you’ll find a kind of homey atmosphere all-too-rare in the country’s most cosmopolitan city, rendering the means by which you’ve arrived inconsequential.
Sunny’s concedes almost nothing, but that fact in itself makes drinking there feel well-earned. Bring cash for the bucket, wear a layer, and plan to take a taxi to/from—at least as far as the subway. Once you’re taken into the place’s scruffy, old salty embrace, you’ll never want to leave.