One of my earliest memories is of York Lane, a dirty tiny thoroughfare behind Wynyard Station. My parents used to take me to the city on Saturdays and park nearby, and one day as we passed through York Lane I saw the Paddle Pop lion (or a man dressed up like him) handing out ice-cream.

Why he would be in a dark dirty laneway waiting for children is now, I realise, a little odd – but as an ice-cream-deprived kid with a feline obsession, it was the most magical moment I could remember. Every Sunday for the following year I kept looking for the Paddle Pop lion in that laneway but never saw him again.

Feeling lost and betrayed, I gave up eating Paddle Pops for good.

All of which is a convoluted and self obsessed way of saying that a small bar called York Lane has opened up in that laneway of broken dreams.

What makes York Lane different to most laneway bars is that it isn’t hidden in a basement – instead, you can sit on a milkcrate right by the lane and watch as the 8.15pm garbage truck goes by and pedestrians (including a regular stream of homeless people who hang around the lane) shuffle past.

Then again, there are also lamp-lit tables down the back for those who want a bit more intimacy, with other décor details including a stack of milkcrates that function as shelving in the small kitchen area up the front (believe it or not, this actually looks good), punch-card wallpaper, wooden floorboards and enamel tables up the front. I realise my description makes this bar sound like a hobo’s hideout but it’s actually a stylish little place (it can only hold a maximum of 30 people).

There’s also a great smell emanating from the kitchen and so when I turn up on a Wednesday night with a friend we both decide to order food and wine. We go for the duck pancakes ($12) and the chorizo hotpot with cannellini beans ($12), as well as two glasses of red – the Seppelt shiraz for $9, and the Society pinot noir for $8.50.

The wine is decent but nothing to write about in my opinion but the food is. The duck pancakes are freshly made but come prewrapped – which I prefer, since I hate having to roll things myself – and the chorizo hotpot has a clean, simple taste that’s not overloaded with spices. Actually, I wouldn’t mind a bit more oomph in the flavour but my more subtle friend loves it the way it is.

The service is fantastic, and so when the bartender tells me about his negroni I try it out. This is made with Punt e Mes rosso vermouth, Tanqueray gin and Campari and is faultless. For those who take their negronis as seriously as I do, the bartender shakes them here rather than stirring and uses small ice cubes, all of which dilutes and softens the drink a little. Some would disagree with this but I like this approach.

Despite the indie music and the bike and the helmets hanging on the wall, this is not another hipster hangout. Ultimately, it feels like a genuine little hole in the wall when you can have a drink and a chat while smelling the fragrant breeze from the laneway – unless, that is, it’s 8.15pm.

York Lane, located on (surprise, surprise) York Lane (there is no number), open Monday to Friday, phone 9299 1676

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Even though the most exciting moments in my high school life consisted of wagging class to hang out at the local petrol station with my equally ambitious pothead friends, the thought of getting cocktails at Assembly is appealing. Then again, in this case Assembly refers to a new small bar located in the basement of a mini mall on Kent Street.

It’s a Thursday night when I turn up with the Amazonian Croatian to find an astro-turfed courtyard near the escalator (smoking is still not allowed since it is indoors) and a bar area that looks minimal and industrial.

There’s an old draftsman’s table, naked bulbs dangle above the bar counter, the lampshades would be at home in a factory and there’s a metal spiral staircase leading to a second floor with a chain link balcony fence. This feels more like a sweatshop than a school to me but I like it nevertheless. The one touch of comfort is with the chesterfield sofas but, since the Croatian believes comfort is for pussies, we perch at the bar counter instead.

I order the Deauville, a cocktail that harks back to 1930s New Orleans and is made with cognac, applejack, Cointreau and lemon juice ($19). It’s like a Sidecar with an extra flavour note thanks to the applejack – and it deserves to be made in more bars. The Croatian orders the Bosom Caresser (cognac, Grand Marnier, grenadine – $19), which is served in a steel port glass with a rich egg-white foam on top. I suspect she only ordered it because of the name but it works surprisingly well (I say surprisingly because I’d never normally mix grenadine with cognac).

The cocktail nerd in me likes how Assembly’s cocktail menu lists the proportions of each drink (for example, it says the Bosom Caresser has four parts cognac to two parts Grand Marnier) and in addition to classic cocktails it also has two pages of modern-style ones that tend to have more fruit puree and less liquor in them for those who no doubt like to sit on chesterfield sofas.

In keeping with Sydney’s soul food obsession, the food here includes gourmet hotdogs and sticky ribs. We order the pork belly slider ($12) made with spicy sofrito and pickled red cabbage, as well as the provolone pepper croquettes ($10 – smoked provolone and piquillo peppers), both of which are great (and I especially recommend the croquettes).

For dessert the Croatian orders the For Shizzle My Treacle cocktail (Appleton rum, Angostura bitters, pear puree, white chocolate foam and cinnamon – $19). This turns out to be the best cocktail we taste here and, despite its name, the sweetness is kept to a minimum for balance. It works, much like Assembly itself.

Assembly, 488 Kent Street, Sydney. Open Monday to Saturday until midnight. See the Assembly website

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Wow. This is my first reaction when I enter the Baxter Inn, Sydney’s latest hidden bar. To get there you go down an unmarked laneway off Clarence Street and then turn right down another lane/courtyard that looks like a dead-end. If not for the large but friendly bouncer standing alone in the courtyard I wouldn’t have found the Baxter Inn’s nondescript entrance.

You then head down some industrial looking stairs and push open a basement door to suddenly find yourself in a large old-fashioned American-style saloon. There’s a long wooden bar counter (complete with stools) and a backbar filled with a ridiculous array of whisky. Honky tonk blues is playing, the walls are covered with black and white photos of boxers, plus there are knick knacks such as old clocks, a candelabra and a vintage wall-mounted pinball-style game (I suspect it could be a form of Corinthian bagatelle, but my knowledge of antique parlour games is rusty). Even though it’s a Thursday night and the bar has only just opened a week or so ago, every candle-lit table in the joint is taken.

In keeping with the retro vibe, the cocktails here are largely classics. I order the Brandy Crusta (brandy, Cointreau, lemon, maraschino liqueur – $17) while my friend orders the South Side (gin, mint, lime juice, sugar – $17). The Brandy Crusta is a perfectly made rendition of this drink, right down to the traditional pithed lemon peel that curls in on itself inside the sugar-rimmed glass. If you’ve never had a crusta before, then this is the place to try it. The South Side is served with a generous mint sprig poking out of an enamel mug, which is a smart vessel for this drink since the enamel keeps it cold. I usually prefer Mojitos over South Sides but I love this version – it’s balanced just right and the fresh mint’s aroma goes well with the gin.

The service is friendly and the atmosphere intimate. The only thing lacking is food, as pretzels seem to be the sole source of sustenance here – but considering how packed this place already is, perhaps starving people to force them to move on is a canny strategy for managing capacity.

Baxter Inn, 156 Clarence Street, Sydney. Open Monday to Saturday until late.

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There’s something about Westfield and Italian wine bars. First there was Ragu, which I reviewed a few weeks back, and now there’s Spiedo (and I’ll try not to make a budgie smuggler joke).

Spiedo is a Northern Italian restaurant and bar from chef Alessandro Pavoni (one of the many bald guys who appeared on Master Chef) that’s on level 6, which is one level above the foodcourt. Whereas Ragu stands out for its good and simple food, Spiedo is a more elegant – and larger – affair, with half its space being a bar area (called Stuzzi Bar) and the other the restaurant. The bar area almost feels like an indoor courtyard, complete with a fig tree, plus there’s a bar counter for those like me who enjoy eyeballing bartenders.

Tonight, however, I’m with glamazons who insist both on sitting at a table like civilised people and on having the Pirlo ($14), an aperitif made with prosecco, Aperol and sparkling mineral water. The idea sounds a little girly to me, but I like Aperol and am too scared of the glamazons to argue – and the Pirlo certainly works well enough to give me an appetite for more drinks.

I try to feel more manly by then getting the Birra Ronzani, a dark gold beer from Bologna that comes in a 750ml bottle ($19). It’s a good, crisp beer that’s ridiculously easy to drink – it should be more available in Australia.

To scramble my taste buds more I then order the Tuscan Sidecar ($17). This is made with Hennessey VS cognac and Tuaca vanilla liqueur (which has a brandy base) that’s shaken with lemon juice. The Tuaca replaces the orange liqueur (such as Cointreau) that’s usually in a sidecar, giving the cocktail more of a dessert flavour (a note for cocktail nerds: this variation is different to the Tuaca Sidecar, in which Tuaca replaces the cognac and is mixed with the Cointreau.)

The surprise hit, however, is the Go Figure ($17), made with muddled fig and apple, gin, blueberry liqueur, and cream (one of the glamazons ordered it).

I say it’s a surprise because I usually hate cream cocktails but this works. It works well. I’m almost ashamed of myself for liking it. Actually, I’m always ashamed of myself.

We also order some finger food such as the salumi plate ($18), crispy polenta sticks – ie chips – with gorgonzola sauce ($8 – I keep forgetting just how potent gorgonzola can be) and my favourite, the Sciatt (also $8), which the menu describes as Fontina cheese in buckwheat and grappa tempura. What this means is you get these little brown balls filled with great gooey cheese – and this is what I would order again here.

Actually, what I’d also like to get if I ever come back is a full-blown restaurant meal I spied on the menu – the Spiedo Bresciano con polenta ($35), which is a Brescian slow spit roast made with pork ribs, pork scotch fillet, quail and duck, served with Storo polenta. Apparently Spiedo is Italian for spitroast (and I’ll try not to make a joke about the sexual position).

Last but not least, I do need to mention the grappa trolley, which I’ve never seen before. This is basically a box filled with grappa bottles that’s wheeled around the bar and restaurant for those who want this Italian digestive. To be honest, I need to drink a lot more grappa, both for my own education and because it’s fun to say the word. Grap – pa. Try it. See how it trips off your tongue.

Ok, maybe I’ve drunk too much.

Spiedo, level six, Westfield, 188 Pitt Street, Sydney. Open everyday from breakfast onwards (7:30am-11pm). See the Spiedo website

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It’s 1.30pm on a Saturday, I’ve barely been awake for an hour, and while I should be scoffing scrambled eggs and coffee to deal with my hangover I find myself at Ragu Pasta and Wine Bar in Westfield instead.

It’s been a while since I’ve had red wine for breakfast but I have to say – it works pretty well.

I’m here because a Kiwi friend of mine is in town for the day and refuses to drink coffee.

“Drinkin’s thinkin’” he brusquely said when I suggested a bean-based brew. Although I didn’t know what the Kiwi’s brusque and cryptic saying meant, I started thinking of possible alcoholic breakfast options and concluded a glass of red and some house-made pasta at Ragu should ease me and my alcoholic friend into the day.

Even though Ragu is located in a Sydney food court it somehow feels like an authentic Italian wine bar. As soon as I’m perched on a zebra-striped stool at Ragu’s curved bar counter, an array of wine bottles facing me, I forget about the shoppers just metres away. The sounds of Italian being spoken by the staff and the Italian man hunkered over his pasta next to me add to to the feel of authenticity.

Tempted by the displays of fresh home-made pasta, I order the orecchiette with ragu. Orecchiette pasta originates from South Italy and is named after the Italian word for ear, since that’s the shape the pasta is roughly in. The orecchiette here is (to shamelessly use MasterChef parlance – I really watched that show far too much) the hero of the dish: it has bite and texture and goes beautifully with the small pieces of tender beef and rustic tomato-based sauce. In short, it’s hearty, honest and simple Italian fare – and good value for $15.

I wash it down with a glass of A.Retief shiraz, which is also great value for $9. This is the first time I ever tried a wine from NSW’s A.Retief but I’m going to look out for it from now on – my shiraz is well balanced and, to yet again shamelessly use MasterChef parlance (I promise this is the last time), it has bags of flavour. Actually, that MasterChef saying doesn’t make sense, really – what is a bag of flavour?

But I digress.

The Kiwi keeps sneaking jealous peeks at my pasta and grumbles that he shouldn’t have eaten before meeting me. I shield my pasta with my arms and hunker down like the paisan next to me, but I’m also grateful to the Kiwi for forcing me to avoid my coffee today. All of a sudden his cryptic message makes sense: drinkin is thinkin.

Ragu Pasta & Wine Bar at Westfield Sydney. Level 5, in the newly opened part of the food court, Pitt Street Mall. Open until 7.30pm every day except Thursdays, when it’s open until 9.30pm.

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If burlesque artists strutting half naked on bar counters appeals to you then a) you’re my kind of people and b) you ought to head to Zeta Bar’s Extreme Cabaret night.

Every Friday until the end of September, Zeta Bar will transform itself into what looks like a 1920s-inspired cabaret with circus freakshow overtones – there’ll be contortionists, an Indian rubber man, fire eaters, a guy who lies on a bed of nails (what do you call people with that particular profession?) and a Lady Gaga-inspired midget (incidentally, the term midget is considered politically incorrect except if you’re referring to someone in the circus – so we’re on safe grounds. Whether or not a Lady Gaga impersonator, regardless of height, is in good taste is another matter).

What is in good taste are the Prohibition-inspired cocktails created by Grant Collins (who’s responsible for both Zeta’s and The White Hart’s cocktail lists). Many contain absinthe, such as the Zeta Imbibe. This is made from citrus vodka, absinthe and fresh pressed citrus served in a dark glass poison bottle. It’s then served with a candy-striped straw and, as Collins puts it, has dry ice as a garnish to make it smoke.

My favourite Extreme Cabaret cocktail is the Zeta Moonshine. Made with spiced rum, dark rum, passionfruit, bitters and falernum (a Caribbean syrup typically made with almonds, ginger, cloves and lime), it’s served in a tall bottle wrapped in a paper bag with smoke coming out of it and a lime wedge stuck in the top. This is a beautiful drink and while it tastes more tiki than prohibition to me – it’s fruity with spicy elements and is extremely easy to drink – I absolutely love it (although I do suggest waiting until some of the smoke clears before drinking it!).

I also suggest the Extreme Iced Tea, made with vodka, gin, Cointreau, light rum and Coke, which is served in a smoking teapot. Despite my usual disdain for Long Island Iced Teas – or having Coke in cocktails – I have to admit this is great and surprisingly smooth.

In addition to the above cocktails, there’ll also be free alcoholic treats handed out such as the absinthe agar jelly cubes served with white fizz powder on top, or the frozen grapes soaked in champagne. Perhaps it is time I started eating more fruit.

Zeta Bar, Level 4, 488 George Street, Hilton Sydney. Phone 9265 6070, or see the Zeta Bar website

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I’ve been reviewing so many new small bars recently that this week I decided to do the opposite – namely to review Sydney’s oldest pub. Actually, whether or not The Lord Nelson is the oldest is a point of contention, with the Fortune of War claiming it’s the oldest (Mark Chipperfield wrote a good article on this – the only thing I’d add is I think the Woolpack in Parramatta also has a good claim on the title).

Regardless, there’s little doubt The Lord Nelson is the more gentrified of the three and for that matter it’s also more upmarket than most pubs in The Rocks, with the possible exception of Harts Pub. In fact, if you were to take your gran to a pub then this would probably be the place – although whether you’d want to drink in a pub where your gran would be comfortable is another matter.

To be honest I’m in two minds about The Lord Nelson. On one hand, I’d argue there’s something a little too studied about it, right down to the boxes and the barrel and the flags and hurricane lamps that all hang from the ceiling (it’s as if this place was decorated for the benefit of patrons lying on the floor). I’d also say that the service here has usually been, at least for me, somewhat brusque to put it nicely.

On the other hand, however, their beer – which they brew themselves in tanks that you can see out the back – is so good that it alone provides a good reason to come here. I mean, it’s awesome beer.

They make six different types, ranging from the Nelson’s Blood (a dark, full-bodied porter that’ll put hairs on your chest) to the easy-to-drink Quayle Summer Ale. I personally prefer the Trafalgar Pale Ale because of its maltiness – and at $4.50 for half a pint it’s decent value (in a childish attempt to try as many beers as possible I never order pints here).

The food varies from trying to be down to earth – such as the pie with mushy peas – to fancy, such as the confit of duck with star anise. I like the tempura ale-battered fish and chips with wasabi mayo ($17.50).

Finally, the Lord Nelson is in a stunning old sandstone building that alone makes it worth coming to for a beer. Although I would love to see more smiles behind the bar, this is still a place I’d recommend – regardless of whether or not you bring your gran.

The Lord Nelson, 19 Kent Street, The Rocks. Open every day till around 11pm, see the Lord Nelson website

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When I’m not drinking, writing or being abused by my cat, I’m usually being abused by my university students – and so, after a particularly vigorous Wednesday evening class that left me fatigued and in need of fortitude I stumbled into Since I Left You.

This is a small bar on Kent Street that’s in one of those old converted warehouse buildings with the arches. Once you enter the bar through a carriageway you’ll find a narrow space with a 1920s New York/art nouveau feel. The bar counter and the ceilings are both made with silver pressed metal, there’s a back-lit wall behind the bar, glass coffee tables, a long leather banquette down one wall with cushions that have clock motifs on them and, when I’m there, a feisty couple who alternate between cooing at each other and arguing.

All of a sudden my cat’s beginning to look good again.

The couple aside, I’m beginning to think I found the perfect bar – the bartenders are friendly, there’s an intimate vibe and I like the funk music quietly playing on the sound–system – until I see the menu and realise it’s not for cocktail nerds like me. For a bar that feels this good and this gloriously retro I was imagining old fashioneds, a Manhattan, gin martinis and maybe, if I dared to dream, a sazerac – but instead it has a menu that, while it has a good and interesting selection of regional wines, good beer (from Asahi to Peroni) and French champagne, the cocktails are more of the girly, fruity, Sex in the City style variety.

Ugh.

Ok, maybe that was a little harsh. After all, their menu is divided into two – classics and signatures – and the classics include a champagne cocktail, a cosmopolitan, margarita, mojito and caipiroska – and there’s nothing whatsoever wrong with most of those drinks. In fact, since a good margarita is what dreams are made of I order one of those and try not to look at the Tutti Frutti (rum, mango, peach, watermelon, strawberry) on the signatures list.

The margarita ($16) is decently made – I’d even go so far as to say it’s good – but I do love their olives, which are marinated in house and much better than usual. The only problem is that now I know they have olives like these I yet again start dreaming of martinis with olives in them.

(Since I Left You also serves nuts, cheese and charcuterie plates, and small dishes such as chicken and tarragon terrine.)

I also love their courtyard area – if you head back out into the carriageway and go down the end you’ll find yourself in an old, industrial looking space/loading dock that reminds me of the Spiderman scene in which Spidey saves Mary Jane in the alley with the fire escapes above her. And I mean that in a good way – I like these hidden parts of the CBD and it’s great that bars like Since I Left You are making the most of them.

In short, I think Since I Left You (which is named after The Avalanches song) is a great bar if you’re not a cocktail snob like me – and if you are a cocktail snob, it’s still worth going to provided you order the wine or beer.

Since I Left You, 338 Kent Street, Sydney. Open until midnight most nights, although they are usually closed on Sundays except for private functions. See the Since I Left You website.

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The original La Bodeguita del Medio in Cuba was once a hangout for Hemingway (although to be honest, a LOT of bars around the world were frequented by him) and it calls itself the home of the mojito. Who exactly invited the mojito is unclear, but there’s no doubt La Bodeguita helped popularise the drink, which has always been an early love of mine. So, when Dot, the Ginger Binger and the Purger invite me to join them at the Sydney branch of this Cuban restaurant I promptly ditch my cat and join them.

In some ways La Bodeguita del Medio feels like a Cuban version of Café Pacifico. It’s a restaurant that has a decently sized bar area where you can sit at the counter and, instead of an impressive tequila selection, La Bodeguita has two pages of rums (which is unusual and welcome) – and of course it has Cuban, rather than Mexican, food.

We immediately order mojitos and they’re served long with lots of finely crushed ice and a fresh sprig of mint poking out of the glass. Having once had a mojito addiction that saw me drink them in every bar from Barcelona to Botany, I’ve become addicted to a bastardised version that has them in short glasses with no soda water and lots of lime.

The mojito in La Bodeguita is served in a more traditional way and is good – the soda water hasn’t pooled at the top like it does with badly made ones, and it tastes fresh and sweet, although the Ginger Binger argues she can’t taste enough rum (they use Havana Club rum here, btw). The Binger might have a point – I’m not getting much of an alcoholic kick from mine but then it could be that the mint and lime are simply masking the rum well. The next time I’m here I think I’ll perch at the bar and cast my critical rum-coveting eyes over the bartender as he makes it to see for myself rather than sitting at a table. Then again, the mojitos only cost $10 here so they’re still good value regardless.

Out of interest, there’s a great video online where you can see how the bartenders at the Cuban La Bodeguita del Medio make their mojitos (they seem to do it a little differently in Sydney though – for example, here they use crushed ice whereas they don’t in this video clip).

As for food – we order:

• The rabbit empanadas ($17), which come with a great tomato and coriander sauce. They have a gamey flavour and I like them, although Dot and the Binger aren’t so keen.
• Taro croquettes served with aji de gallina sauce ($15) – these are soft with a crunchy coating and are good if you like croquettes (I’m so so on them) – but the sauce, which has a kick without being too spicy, is great.
• Tomato and yogurt braised lamb neck with Cuban rice and black bean vinaigrette ($24). This is so tender it just falls apart and if it just had a bit more spice it would have become awesome.
• Seared wagyu slices with marigold dressing ($19). This is the favourite. I’m not sure how traditional it is, but the pink slices with a slight charred flavour are perfect.
• Sliced sea scallops with yellow chilli with prawn dressing ($16). The girls love this but I’m not so sure. The sauce kicks you in the teeth with its strength and to some degree overpowers the scallops. Then again, after the third scallop I find myself wanting more of it and fighting the girls off.

The décor here is atmospheric without trying too hard or becoming kitsch: think brick walls, arches, wooden floorboards, photos of Cuba on the wall, leather banquette booths in one area, plus patrons are given marker pens and invited to write on the wall (I wrote a homage to my cat in one corner. Then I wonder why I’m still single.)

There’s also a stage and a small dancing area and later in the night a Cuban band start playing and people who have obviously taken dance classes start gyrating. It’s a fun atmosphere that I can’t get cynical about – I’d like to come back.

Cocktails: after the mojito I try the Nacional, made with Havana Club rum, apricot liqueur and a couple of splashes of pineapple juice ($14). This is good and not too sweet or tangy, although I prefer the mojito for its crispness.

Dot orders the Mai Tai – Jamaican Rum, orange liqueur, lime and almond syrup ($15). This is just great – a tropical drink filled with goodness.

The Ginger Binger orders the Mulata Daiquiri: 7-year-old Cuban rum (I don’t know which one, to be honest) with lime juice and a dash of cacao ($16). We’re not sure about this one – it’s a bit too syrupy for us, and I’m not convinced chocolate flavours should even be in cocktails.

The Purger has now gone home, but the Ginger Binger insists we keep drinking for four and orders the Hemingway Daiquiri, made with Havana Club Rum, lime juice, grapefruit and maraschino liqueur ($15). Now this is my kind of cocktail and we all love it. The sweet and sour flavours balance perfectly.

To keep the Binger in drinking company (I am a gentleman, after all), I try the Ernest’s Breakfast, made with rum, grapefruit marmalade, Cointreau and lemon juice ($16). This is also one of the better cocktails here – tart and with some backbone.

By now you’d think we’d have given up and gone home – but no. Our livers are sturdier than that so we try the Canchànchara, made with Havana Club rum, honey and lemon juice ($16). By this stage I’m just ordering drinks because I like saying their name and my ability to judge them is fading. I can, however, say that it smells like lemon, tastes like honey, and is served with a large spherical ice ball in the glass. If you like honey then this might work for you.

We finish off by ordering some straight rum – the 18-year-old Flor de Cana ($18), the 15-year-old Pusser’s ($13.5) – the Binger orders this because she’s drunk enough to think the name is hysterical – and the Matusalem Fran Reserva 15-year-old ($15.50). The Flor de Cana is our favourite out of the three but to be honest, they’re all great rums with different flavours – and I love my Matusalem if only for its vibrant aroma.

And that completes the longest, most indulgent and gluttonous review I think I’ve put on Bar Zine so far. However, if you have anything to add then please add a comment below.

La Bodeguita del Medio. 125 York Street, Sydney (behind the QVB building). Open Monday to Thursday from 12pm-12am and Friday to Saturday from 12pm-1am. Closed Sunday. See the La Bodeguita del Medio website

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I’m not sure what made the owners think this could work but somehow it does – a place that is a shirt store, a whisky bar and a cafe. Welcome to Shirt Bar.

What’s interesting is that it isn’t a shirt store that just happens to sell alcohol and coffee on the side (which is what I expected before I saw it for myself) but an unusual hybrid of all the above. While it does feel more like a store and cafe during the day, at night the lights dim and it feels like a whisky bar – albeit one where, when you get lipstick on your collar, you can quickly buy a new shirt before going home.

I ought to come here more often.

(Ok, I just said that to sound dashing. We all know I live alone with my cat and broken dreams).

But I digress.

When I walk in on a Thursday night, after being cruelly thrown out of a different bar beforehand (turns out the managers weren’t happy with an article I’d written in the past), I slump on one of the leather stools that line Shirt Bar’s galvanised steel counter and order a Glenfiddich Solera 15-year-old single malt ($16).

The beauty of a single malt is that it can cure most troubles and the Glenfiddich 15 is like a liquid therapist. I normally like my single malts to be more distinctive in flavour but when you just need an easy-to-drink scotch with a little character then this is perfect.

As you’d expect from a shirt store, there’s a manly feel about the place. The bar counter is padded with leather, there are leather sofas and metal tables with metal chairs, an exposed brick wall is at one end and an old Singer sewing machine is propped up on a table. Soul and blues music is playing, the staff wear crisp shirts, and there’s art on the wall (supplied by a gallery called Urban Uprising) and candlelight.

Food wise there are salumi and cheese platters and while the drink focus is on whisky (the most expensive drop is a $50 shot of 25-year-old Chivas), there’s also a selection of tequila, rum (next time I’m here I’ll try the Ron Zacapa Centenario 23 for $18), Peroni, champagne as well as two cocktails – a mint julep served in the traditional pewter cup ($18) as well as an espresso martini (I don’t try this but I’ve never been a fan of espresso martinis. I tend to either want to be sedated or caffeinated – not both).

As I slump and slurp at my whisky I notice a couple sitting on the stools next to me who offer me some of their salumi platter out of sympathy. Before they can change their mind, I start scoffing down hunks of meat while grasping at this moment of human contact in order to tell them about my inhumane ordeal at the last bar. They then tell me they’re the co-owners of Shirt Bar and no doubt start wondering what kind of an article I’m going to write about them if I got kicked out of the last place I was in.

The other co-owner is Adam Hofbauer, who not only pours the whisky here but is a barista who blends the beans and is behind Fat Coffee. He tells me that his coffee is as much of an obsession for him as whisky and so when I come in the next day to take a photo I also try the coffee – and it’s good. Actually (and I’m not just saying this because I got a few hunks of free salami – sadly, I’ve yet to be given free whisky in return for one of my sad tales, although I’m working on it) it’s great coffee. It’s coffee you ought to try for yourself so you know I’m not just saying this out of salami guilt.

And that’s my shitty way of ending this review. Actually, I should also mention that Shirt Bar is next door to Balcony Bar and Small Bar on Sussex Lane (which is on the other side of Erskine Street), so it’s nice to see that strip evolve for drinkers like me.

Ok, that was an even worse ending. Screw it. I’ve got the DVD of Fight Club that I paused to write this review and I want to get back to it. This will do.

Update: Shirt Bar has started doing spirit tastings every month as part of what it calls Scotch Club – you can email them at info@shirtbar.com.au for more info.

Shirt Bar, Sussex Lane, Sydney, see the Shirt Bar website. Open Monday to Wednesday until 6pm, Thursday and Friday until 10pm, and closed on the weekends.

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Now it’s your turn – how do you rate Shirt Bar?

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