Our dive bars are disappearing, and
So why should you care about them?
Dive bars are humbly born out of a neighborhood need. They speak to the history and presence of the neighborhood. They have stories, they have secrets, they have something to say without a hashtag. They feel timeless. And they are all running out of time.
Here’s your guide to embracing the best of the worst, the worst of the best, how to recognize one and how to find one in every neighborhood in Brooklyn, and unfortunately a meagerode to those we’ve lost. Dive in. Their isn’t much time.
How to Spot a Dive Bar
- They don’t serve food, and no part of you would want to eat food if they did serve it. Obvious exceptions include peanuts (often shellable onto the floor which is a very smart move to sop up unnoticed spills or avoid some lost delicate Upper East Side bitch from filing a lawsuit against absolutely no one in charge for almost killing herself), Zapp’s chips, bowls of dusty cheese balls.
- The bathroom mirror is completely covered in stickers.
- The cocktail list consists of beer and shot deals with somewhat clever names.
- The jukebox is full of grungey favorites and often free.
- When you ask the bartender to settle you up, he clearly estimates about how long you’ve been there and then tallies up some vague number while offering you “one for the road”
- You can’t remember the last time you were there.
The Best Dive Bars in North Williamsburg
Turkey’s Nest | Neighborhood Deep Dive
You’re probably most familiar with this place from their syrupy-sweet and oversized styrofoam cups of margaritas, and everyone’s uncanny ability to completely ignore the “no drinks are permitted to leave the bar” sign at the door and thus establish said margaritas as a staple of outdoor films and all other summertime activities in McCarren Park. But Turkey’s Nest is also a place to find yourself in rather than simply to exit. It’s a place to stay, a place to be, a place to… well, nest. And it has been for the past 30 years. The appeal is mostly in its staying power in a neighborhood that feels like it’s slipping from our fingers. It’s complete deference to “neighborhood demands” and, well, its overall dustiness earns it a spot as North Williamsburg’s Deep Dive. Stay with it. 94 Bedford Ave.
The Levee
All you need to know is that this place used to called Kokie’s and used to sell coke behind a curtain in the back. You don’t need to know how I know this. Now it’s the Levee and they have
Rock A Rolla
This corner bar under the BQE is covered in enough antique beer memorabilia to feel genuine, unironic, and to remind you specifically of all the beers you’ve drunk there before. Bucket seats and regal chalice glasses ironically juxtapose the sticker-covered surfaces and walls. The bartenders are warm yet distinctly don’t give a fuck. The music is always good and the overall atmosphere discourages shitty people from entering most nights. 486 Metropolitan Ave.
Skinny Dennis
The presence of taxidermied animals is always a good sign, except for that one boar head that is always thinking about crushing you on the makeshift dancefloor. And by “dance floor” I mean the space in front of where they often have live bluegrass that inevitably tempts you our of your barstool. Please note that this place loses its divey-ness on Friday and Saturday nights. Best to go on Sunday afternoons when there are usually more dogs than douchebags and you don’t have to fight through oversized vegan fur coats to get a shot of whiskey. Or the mint bourbon iced tea, which I highly recommend having two
The Best Dive Bars in South Williamsburg
Jack Bar
A bar
Midway
A bar for people who are halfway between admitting they have a drinking problem and a halfway house, check in here for a while.
Lucky Dog
This place is basically your local dog run, with a roof over it and no sign that says “you must have a dog. This is not a petting zoo.” They not only allow dogs, but they encourage them to be there. The backyard is charming and expansive and littered with pups and they have shuffleboard and beer-and-shot deals for you and your two-legged friends. There is no food, there are no dog treats, but there is the vagrant empanada peddler who often passes through, who is also known to offer blow jobs. No, I’m not kidding. Your resistance to buying one of his empanadas will wain the more you drink, but hopefully nothing else. Stay strong. 303 Bedford Ave.
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