If you’re a retrosexual like me then Honey Rider ticks all the boxes. Named after a James Bond girl? Check. A bar counter up front with leather stools you can perch on with a devil may care swagger? Check. 70s-style lounges down the back where you can lure the North Shore women with pick-up lines straight from a Playboy magazine? Check – not that any of the lines work for me.

What really impresses me, though, is the blackboard behind the bar counter that shows all the different bourbons and rums they can make an Old Fashioned cocktail with.

I opt for the Bulleit bourbon Old Fashioned ($17), made with vanilla sugar and orange bitters, and watch as the bartender slowly adds the bourbon, then some ice cubes, and stirs, before adding more bourbon and stirring again, and repeating the process a third time. Whether or not this is the best way to make an Old Fashioned is arguable – some say it is, others believe it dilutes the drink too much. However, as I’m always hungry for any attention that’s bestowed on me – or my drinks – I’m happy to watch the repetition of stirring and pouring. My only quibble is that the bartender then serves it without any orange peel – but the other bartender (possibly the manager) notices this and then comes up to flame a peel and twist it into my drink to finish it off, which I appreciate.

With that note of cocktail nerdery out of the way I can now quickly deal with the ambiance: blues music is playing, upside down pot plants hang from the ceiling, there are exposed brick walls, a collection of old siphons above the back bar, wooden floorboards and lots of women. Then again, every bar I go to in the North Shore has more women than the bars in the inner city – perhaps it’s time I gave up on my pseudo hipster ways and moved north.

PS oh yes: I forgot to cover other basic details that should go in a review such as:

• Food: there’s pizza from $9.50
• Beer: they have 4 Pines Heffenweizen beer (which I love) for $7
• Girly cocktails: available, such as the Cham 69 – Chambord, Smirnoff black, Amaretto, fresh lime juice and lemonade for $16
• Classic cocktails other than the Old Fashioned: include mojitos, Vespers and the negroni
• Conclusion: A cute, stylish bar with counter stools, a love of classic drinks and just a hint of swagger.

Honey Rider, 230 Military Road, Neutral Bay. Open Tuesday to Saturday until midnight, Sunday until 10pm. See the Honey Rider website

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Politics and alcohol often go hand in hand, which might explain why so many new bars have political names. You have Hinky Dinks, coined after a corrupt polly from Chicago; The Roosevelt and, in Cremorne, The Mayor.

Located where the post office used to be, The Mayor is a stylish bar and restaurant where the walls are covered with black and white photos of mayors and the occasional quote from them – I particularly like “A conservative is a liberal who was mugged the night before” by Frank Rizzo, an outspoken former mayor of Philadelphia.

There’s a large dark wooden middle bar in the centre with comfy leather stools all around (which alone makes me like the place – to me, that’s the ideal bar setup), along with leather banquettes, tables, chesterfield sofas and a large window with venetian blinds facing Military Road.

It’s a weeknight and the place is bustling to the point where I only just squeeze myself in at the bar. I’m not on the North Shore often so I decide a stiff drink is order and opt for the Hurricane ($17), which the menu says is a secret house-made tropical rum punch with fresh fruit and burnt orange syrup. Pale yellow with an orange wheel perched on top of the glass, this is a well-made punch that’s ridiculously easy to drink – if you don’t like the taste of liquor then this is for you. As if to synchronise with my drink, Bob Dylan’s Hurricane starts playing on the sound system. I wonder what would have played if I had ordered the Sneaky Sneaky instead (a shot of apple brandy and apple cider – $18). There’s also a good wine list, with vinos from Mudgee to Argentina and beers that include Bluetongue Lager, Peroni and Bruers Bright.

The restaurant serves meals such as the club sandwich ($19), crispy southern wings with coleslaw, blue cheese and sweet sour dips ($17) and chicken breast stuffed with ricotta, preserved lemon with brik-wrapped Israeli cous cous and jus ($26) – but since the Hurricane gave me my daily serve of fruit and I’m squeezed between two different groups at the bar, I decide to try the food on my next visit.

(I was going to end with a lame joke about not having the stomach for politics but even my cat shot it down … )

The Mayor, 400 Military Road, Cremorne. See The Mayor website. Open for lunch and dinner 6 days a week.

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As the barman vigorously muddles jalapeno chillies in a glass I see a look of anxiety on my gay wingman’s face. It serves him right – I asked him twice if he was sure he wanted me to order the jalapeno margaritas and, as usual, he nodded his head without having heard me at all.

Then again, as I stand at the bar counter of Tio’s Cerveceria, a Mexican-themed small bar that looks like it ought to be in a small Mexican border town rather than Surry Hills, I probably look anxious myself. After all, a crazed-looking woman has sidled up to me at the bar and started talking about god knows what – and while the old me would have leapt on her without a second thought, my new year’s resolution is to stay far away from women (especially the crazy kind) and be faithful to my cat. After all, you can only have one true love in life, and mine is feline, vicious and faithful.

As soon as the jalapeno margaritas arrive we pay and bolt from the bar to the back wall, where candles are burning in a tiled arch in the adobe-coloured wall with melting wax dripping onto it. The décor here has a retro-meets-South-American–antique feel, if that makes any sense at all, and I particularly like the dark green shutters on one wall.

Although you can wedge yourself in at the bar counter, which is packed on the weeknight I’m here, most of the seating is at the tables and benches. However, this is a bar and not a restaurant and as far as I can tell the only food here comes in the form of complimentary chili popcorn that’s served in a bag.

The jalapeno margarita is well-made, tart and stings like a scorpion – there’s so much jalapeno in it that while the top half has the yellow colour of a normal margarita, the bottom of the glass is a sinister chilli green. I like it, but the GW can only drink half before he feels queasy to the point where I have to drink his margarita as well as mine (not that I’m complaining). They also have a dizzying array of tequila behind the bar plus they serve Rio Bravas beer.

Crazed women aside, I like this place – it’s a bit like a South American version of Shady Pines Saloon and has a vibrant feel about it. Just go easy on the jalapenos.

Tio’s Cerveceria, 4 Foster Street, Surry Hills (a few down from the Hotel Hollywood). Open Monday to Saturday from 4pm-midnight, and Sunday from 12pm-10pm. See the Tio’s Cerveceria website

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Glebe’s nightspots are multiplying like rabbits on ecstasy, with two small bars opening within the same week.

One is a casual, sofa-filled affair called Mr Falcon that I’ll review soon – but for now I’ll focus on The Little Guy, which is just a few minutes walk away and looks as if a landscape gardener designed it.

I say this because there’s a horizontal ladder, a watering can and metal pails with plants growing out of them that hang above the bar counter, while the bar counter top is made from a large rough-edged wooden slab that looks like half a tree. There’s also some tree-thingie (I’m not good with horticultural terms – even cacti die in my care) that’s painted on the wall.

Most of the seating here is at the bar counter, which combined with the jovial staff (they genuinely seem to be enjoying themselves) makes this feel like a friendly neighbourhood bar.

Drinks wise they have the Hangman beer and the Pickpocket cider on tap, both from the Rocks Brewing Company (which is connected to Harts Pub) as well as some craft beers, a number of wines and a short cocktail menu that looks like it’ll change frequently.

After sticking with the Hangman beer (which is served in pints or half pints) on my first and second visits here (it’s a great brew), I try the Tommy’s Margarita on my third visit – and it’s good. I like how they use Don Julio tequila and organic agave syrup, and that they asked me if I wanted the rim salted. For $16, you can’t really beat this.

I also try their Bourbon Bitter and Twisted cocktail, which I like although my gay wingman isn’t as fond of it. Made with a shot of Makers Mark, a shot of American Honey by Wild Turkey, as well as grapefruit juice and bitters, this is like a fresh and fruity take on an Old Fashioned. I try to point out that the cocktail’s name matches the GW’s persona, but that doesn’t appease him either.

Food wise they serve fresh popcorn (the staff are continually popping corn behind the bar) as well as nibbles such as pate, hummus, brie and prosciutto. However, the popcorn’s so plentiful – and addictive – that I stick to that. In addition to the front bar there’s also some seating down the back and an area upstairs, but it’s the front bar that makes this place special. With their predilection for rock and roll (the Rolling Stones was playing on my last visit) and an upbeat vibe, this is definitely a bar I’ll be going back to again and again.

The Little Guy, 87 Glebe Point Road, Glebe. See The Little Guy website. Open until midnight Tuesday to Saturday, and until 10pm Sunday.

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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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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 nothing new about looking old in the world of small bars – after all, most feature more second-hand furniture than a uni student’s apartment. Yet what makes Hinky Dinks stand out is that it does feel new – in a 1950s way.

What I mean is that its retro décor has been built from scratch, making it feel like a brand spanking new 1950s apartment. The pastel surfaces gleam, the red and white bar stools are vibrant, the pineapple-shaped lamps shimmer and the low leather settee is … ok, I ran out of adjectives. If only there was a vintage record player then the look would be perfect (although they do have a vintage refrigerator humming along at one end).

What also makes Hinky Dinks stand out is its Madagascar Manhattan ($16) – so much so that, after trying it on a Sunday night, I come back the following Wednesday just to have it again.

Made with vanilla and citrus peel-infused bourbon, sweet vermouth, agave syrup and chocolate bitters, the Madagascar Manhattan is served in a crystal glass (on the Sunday it was garnished with an orange twist and on Wednesday with a maraschino cherry). The result both times was a delicate drink that belied its strength, with the vanilla, citrus and chocolate hints adding a fragrant softness. It’s by far the best cocktail I’ve had in weeks – although, for the record, I prefer the orange twist.

The menu is geared toward alcohol-soaking snacks such as the pan-fried olive and parmesan sandwich ($9) and fried squid ($16), as well as oysters with blood orange and coriander gastrique.

For me the sandwich is the winner (I am a sucker for gooey cheese) and the squid’s good too. I tried this on my second visit when I came with a chef friend, and although he pointed out that the batter could be a little crisper, he was still happy – the batter’s light, the squid tender and …

Ah crap, I’ve used so many adjectives I’ve bored myself.

The rest of this review will be in bullet points:

• The jazz music on Sunday is quiet enough for conversation and on Wednesday there was no music, which actually worked fine as the place was so busy it was still humming
• The bar’s named after a corrupt Chicago politician who gave out drinks for votes
• If you’ve had a bad day then try the Zombie, which is so potent they make a point of only serving two per customer. Made with silver, aged and op rum, cinnamon syrup, passionfruit, grapefruit, flamed absinthe and mint, this Tiki drink doesn’t taste anywhere near as alcoholic as it is.
• Talking of cocktails named after the dead, the Corpse Reviver No. Blue is another deceptively smooth and yet strong drink. Made with South Gin, Lillet Blanc, triple sec, absinthe and fresh lemon, it uses blue curacao to give it an electric blue colour that, combined with a rich egg foam on top, makes it look like something from a cartoon. It’s a good party drink – but in my humble opinion, the less ostentatious Madagascar Manhattan is a much better cocktail.

Hinky Dinks, 185 Darlinghurst Road, Darlinghurst. Open Wednesday to Sunday from 5pm until late. See the Hinky Dinks website

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The best part about Stitch, a small basement bar on York Street, is the entrance. There’s a shop front on street level filled with sewing machines, balls of yarn and shirts hanging on a rod – as well as a stairwell heading down. Take a step into the shop front and you can then see a glimpse of the sumptuous bar downstairs, with all the promise that those shelves of bottles glowing from the back bar’s light can bring.

It’s this specific moment I enjoy most about my visit – the promise of something unusual, decadent and hidden from view. Call me a fantasist but as I head downstairs on a Saturday night my imagination works overtime. I imagine exotic women with a fetish for alcoholic bar reviewers, a piano man tinkling the ivories and a wizened old bartender who’ll listen to my troubles while making me Manhattans.

It turns out there is no piano man and the bartenders here are young (what happens to old Sydney bartenders? Considering how young they all are, it’s as if they live in an alcoholic version of Logan’s Run, where any barperson over 30 is swiftly dispatched) but the bar has got an old fashioned and quirky feel nevertheless.

The bar counter is seemingly made from old sewing machines stacked on top of each other while sewing machine covers dangle from above the back bar. The light fixtures look like they came from a western saloon, sheet music is used as wallpaper in one area, there are booths as well as small barrel tables and blues music is playing on the sound system.

The blues fits my mood since I’ve been stood up not once but twice by two people today, which must surely push my loser quotient to new heights. As such I perch dejectedly on a bar stool, order a sazerac and begin telling one of the friendly bartenders about how a man can only trust his cat in this world. In turn she smiles politely and no doubt starts hoping I’ll drink my sazerac quickly and get the hell out of here.

The menu lists the sazerac as being made with Hennessy cognac, sugar and Peychaud’s bitters served in an absinthe-rinsed glass, but I see the other bartender using Pernod instead (when I ask, he tells me they’ve run out of absinthe).

The result is still good, however, (if I wanted to be fernickety I’d argue the aniseed flavour is fractionally stronger than I’d like in a sazerac, but it’s still a great rendition) and I’m always happy to see a traditional sazerac on a cocktail menu.

Talking of menus, the kitchen here offers gourmet hotdogs and burgers – for example, one of their meals is the Mack Ducky Dog, made with duck, orange and pistachio sausage served with foie gras canard and truffle sauce. I’m tempted to order a dog but I’m worried my cat will become jealous, so I finish my solitary sazerac, tell the bartender that my faithful feline awaits, and head back up the stairs into reality.

UPDATE: I’ve since come back several times. First of, if you order a cocktail then I recommend either the Romeo Had Juliette (made with Amaro Montenegro, pineapple juice, Angostura bitters, Hennessy cognac and lemon juice) or the Bitter Tears (made from Makers Mark bourbon, grapefruit marmalade, honey syrup and orange bitters and served short with a sugar rim). The former is tangy and tart, while the latter is my favourite cocktail in this bar. I’m not sure how to describe the flavour – you can taste the orange bitters, the tang of the marmalade, and the sweetness coupled with the citrus and bourbon results in a taste that reminds me of the fizzy sour lolly drops of my youth. I like it.

I’ve also tried the hotdogs: the French Poodle ($17) is made with Toulouse sausage, red wine and garlic and served with pickled pear and Dijon mustard while the Wild Pig Dog (also $17) is made with wild boar sausage that has spiced apple and and rum-soaked currants in it. Both are awesome.
Stitch, 61 York Street, Sydney. Open Monday to Saturday, 4pm until late. See the Stitch bar website)

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There’s a small bar in the basement of an otherwise innocuous building on Clarence Street that’s become my favourite bar of the moment. Called Grandma’s, it calls itself a “retro-sexual haven of cosmopolitan kitsch and faded granny glamour” on its website and to be honest I just can’t beat that description.

Once you climb down the stairs past the animal head with horns on the wall you’ll find exposed brick walls, retro furniture and the occasional tiki touch such as cockatoo wall paper and a tropical cocktail menu with plenty of punches, rum and tequila cocktails.

It’s a Saturday night and I’m drinking a Papa Doble (Hemingway daiquiri) while waiting for my gay wingman to join me – he’s running late because he’s having dinner at his grandmother’s place (and yes, the coincidence doesn’t escape me). Personally, I can’t imagine spending Saturday night at my grannie’s place but hey – the GW has always been a far kinder soul than me.

However, the daiquiri is good enough to increase my benevolence toward my fellow man: made with Havana Club rum, maraschino liqueur, fresh lime and grapefruit juice, it’s perfectly made. It’s one of those cocktails that are strong and yet refreshing, with the tartness of the grapefruit balancing the sweetness and unique flavour of the maraschino. Hemingway may have been a drunk but he sure knew his cocktails.

There are also beers and ciders available and when I finish my daiquiri I order a Monteiths Summer Ale, which is a good Kiwi beer. I’m just checking out the food menu – they serve jaffles (you can choose from chicken, cheese, spaghetti and vegetarian ones) as well as biltong and curried cashews – when the GW finally arrives and apologises for his tardiness, explaining that his granny was plying him with margaritas and he lost track of time. This makes me somewhat jealous since all I get at family functions are matzo ball soup and guilt.

Despite believing that Melbourne bars are better than Sydney’s, even the GW grudgingly admits this is a good bar. Funk music is playing, the service is friendly and the crowd is casual and relaxed. If my grandma’s place was like this, I’d be a far more doting grandson myself.

Grandma’s bar, basement, 275 Clarence Street, Sydney. See the Grandma’s bar website

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Created by the same folk that ran Seven Metre Bar (7M), Grasshopper is possibly Sydney’s hardest to find laneway bar. Located on Temperance Lane, which runs off George Street, it’s not visible from the main street and the Amazonian Croatian and I aren’t even sure we have the right place until we walk up the lane and see a large open doorway with people drinking inside.

The top level of Grasshopper is a restaurant with an open kitchen and an aroma that makes us regret having fish and chips before coming here. The menu is limited to some classics such as steak poivre and pork and parsley terrine and the dining atmosphere is seductive and low-lit, with intimate little tables. In other words, this would be perfect for taking a date.

However, the Amazonian and I instead head downstairs to the bar, which has a hip, funky vibe. One side is wallpapered with kitsch black-and-white still shots of people performing kung fu, there are 70s-era armchairs and lamps, old records are used as coasters and there’s an overall vibe that would be very much at home in Melbourne.

As with 7m, some of Grasshopper’s cocktails are served in jars, such as my no. 3 (all the drinks here have numbers rather than names, much like an Asian takeaway). Made with gin, vermouth, orange, Campari and raspberry syrup, the no. 3 has a fresh and strong orange flavour. Both the Amazonian and I prefer her no. 7, however, which is made with calvados, Fernet-Branca (an Italian amaro), orange and almond syrup. This is served in a small cocktail glass and has a complex flavour with the almond syrup giving it a slight nutty edge that works beautifully with the bitterness of the amaro and the sweetness of the orange.

I come back a few months later with the Gay Wingman and try a new cocktail of theirs called the no. 20. Made with tequila, brandy, cherry, Cynar (a bitter Italian apéritif where the main ingredient is artichoke) and served with orange peel, this is now my favourite Grasshopper cocktail. The bartender served it because I told him about my sazerac addiction and there are similarities, with the brandy and the cherry’s sweetness working well with the Cynar bitters. The tequila adds a subtle earthiness to it and the result is a smooth, balanced and well-thought out cocktail.

Overall, Grasshopper is a cosy and welcome addition to Sydney’s bar scene – and if we get a few more laneway bars like this then we’ll really be giving Melbourne a run for its money.

Grasshopper, Temperance Lane (between 389 and 391 George Street), Sydney CBD. Open Monday to Friday. See the Grasshoppper website or phone 9947 9025 for more details

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