Sydney - The Smoking Rocket is one of the signature drinks at Stitch, a basement cocktail bar in Sydney with cheeky Victorian accents, like the stacks of Singer sewing machines that form the foundation of the bar.
The cocktail is silver tequila, chili, lime juice and agave built on a sturdy foundation of Ardbeg, a smoky single-malt Scotch. It's enthralling, and let me tell you: It was well earned. It had, after all, taken me an hour to get here.
It shouldn't have. Stitch was less than a 20-minute walk from my hotel in Sydney's Central Business District. But I strolled up and down the block - and adjacent blocks - no fewer than seven times before I realised I'd been repeatedly passing the place. The dim, narrow entrance, next to an airy bakery, is indicated only by an inconspicuous window displaying vintage Singer sewing machines and clothing draped over hangers.
Oh, right - Stitch.
To make up for lost time, I hastily ordered the 1811, a Buffalo Trace bourbon-based twist on the Boulevardier, which is itself a twist on the classic Negroni (gin/Campari/sweet vermouth). And the plot thickened: The concoction had rested in in-house port casks for about six weeks, imparting a rich, almost silky mellowness to the drink. Before long, I struck up a conversation with two cheery waitresses on their day off. They eagerly offered their insider knowledge. And as an unfathomably jetlagged specimen lamenting the loss of 14 hours (“Where'd tomorrow go?” my friend had asked, indignant), I couldn't have been more indebted.
One woman grabbed a pen and a napkin and within a few minutes presented me with a scribbled list of 22 bars. It felt like I had been handed a treasure map. I folded it up neatly, said my farewells, and made the trek to the hotel. It took 14 minutes.
Stitch opened in the bustling Central Business District in 2012, just one of several small bars to debut there around that time. These hangouts contribute to the fresh, postmodern energy that practically defines the city. I can't help wonder whether that stems from the fact that it's a relatively new metropolis. There are no centuries-old cathedrals, castles, or cafes once inhabited by monks, royals, artists and cult intellectuals. There are no war-scarred civic buildings. The most iconic structures are its grand cantilevered opera house, completed in 1973, and the Sydney Harbour Bridge, an art deco colossus unveiled in 1932. Add to that the fact that the city is rimmed by beaches, each one packed with surfers, and it's understandable how Sydney is as relaxed and modest as it is stylish and forward-looking.
The bars of the city embody the same balance, shunning pretension while mixing up intriguing cocktails, from classic to avant-garde. Yes, some bars are tucked away in that all-too-familiar speakeasy mode that makes me roll my eyes, but unlike the vibe in other cocktail-obsessed cities, there's no preciousness and no exclusivity at these hideaways. The tucked-away locations started to seem like mere matters of real estate availability.
Such is the case at Bulletin Place, which opened in 2012 on the outskirts of the Central Business District. The compact space has small tables and artfully distressed walls. It's situated above a cafe in a building old enough that it's classified as “heritage.” Thus, there are strict signage regulations. It'd be tough to find if not for fashionable types tapping on their iPhones outside. The entrance is guarded by a baby-faced but no-nonsense young man in a black T-shirt who monitors the foot traffic. And, as with Stitch, once you're seated and your drink arrives, it feels like a reward.
Co-owner Tim Philips, a veteran barman who's a familiar face on the global cocktail competition circuit, has a laser focus on seasonal cocktails. Menus are scrawled on butcher paper and tacked to the walls because they change daily, a tribute to Australia's lush vegetation. While the rum in my Corella Swizzle was well aged, the garnish, a generous bouquet of fresh mint, was newly born.
Chatting with Philips, I learned how drastically the city's bar scene had changed in the past few years thanks to the introduction of what's referred to as the “small-bar license.” Whereas once bars had to serve food and/or be in a hotel and/or have a gaming license, that requirement was eliminated in 2008 for establishments with a capacity of less than 60. This created new opportunities for entrepreneurs who weren't keen on the big, boisterous, clubby venues that had long been the norm.
“We're owner-operated - and small - so it's easy to control. We never have issues,” Philips told me. “Police came three months after we opened to see if we had the right signage. Since then, police only come when they're off-duty. These bars look after themselves.”
That same sentiment was echoed by the bartenders at Grandma's Bar, who told me their location “keeps the riffraff out.” Another Central Business District spot, it's located down a set of stairs, over which a stag head is perched like a sentinel. The bar is a study in retro kitsch: crocheted blankets, tacky ceramic statues and an attic's worth of tchotchkes soften the cement-walled space. The menu is rum-centric, but even the drinks with other spirits lean tiki. My Rye Me to the Moon (rye whiskey, Punt e Mes, fresh lime, passion fruit), was so vibrant, it seemed likely to break into a cha-cha routine.
Opened in 2010, Grandma's received the city's second small-bar license. The intimacy makes it feel like a house party with Granny as host. I imagine her as a feisty broad who frequented the glammy Polynesian-inspired party spots in California in the 1950s.
Tokyo Bird is the subdued, contemplative yin to Grandma's sassy, whimsical yang. If it weren't for the swirling aromas of charred wood and teriyaki wafting from an alleyway, I probably wouldn't have found this year-old pocket-size restaurant in the ultra-trendy Surry Hills neighbourhood. I also wouldn't have ventured down the kinda-creepy alley to the nondescript cement-faced building.
The drinks are serious business: The oversize ice cubes are hand-carved with the cleaver, saw and ice pick mounted on the wall by the bar; the sleek Japanese mixing glasses and bar tools seem designed by engineers. But the space has a laid-back, luncheonette air about it, what with tiled walls, tall tables made of salvaged wood, a small open kitchen (with a bell signaling when an order's ready) and cocktails listed on an aluminum-framed letter board. The Japanese whiskies here, including hard-to-find brands, encompass a vast diversity of flavours and subtleties. (The variety comes from the fact that Japanese whiskymakers are not tied to rules like Scotch and bourbon producers are.) Each selection is listed on a menu with almost haikulike tasting notes, like “Stonefruit, light peat, oak toffee” (Nikka Pure Black Malt, $26/R300) and “Red berry fruits, mild chocolate, spice” (Yamazaki Distillers Reserve, $13).
“We wanted it to feel like Tokyo - you look down the alley, you smell the food and there you go,” bartender Yoshi Onishi told me as he finished making my Smoked Hunter, which involved him pouring a Nikka From the Barrel - the name of a Japanese whisky - and Cherry Heering into a bottle he filled with applewood smoke. The smoke complemented the grill char on the assortment of creative yakitori - Japanese scallops, shiitake mushrooms, crispy fish skin. Traditional skewers like these are the restaurant's focus. A Tokyo feel? Mission accomplished.
Bar-going in Sydney is a bit like scanning radio stations, each of which specialises in a genre. You get your tiki drinks here, your Japanese-whisky fix there, your market-fresh cocktails a distance over there.
The specialty at This Must Be the Place is spritzers - light, wine-based drinks carbonated in-house and designed for the season. They're as bright as the narrow Scandinavian-inspired space, which features a shallow counter along a wide window overlooking Oxford Street. This no-frills commercial strip is in Darlinghurst, a revitalised neighbourhood once known for its red-light district.
Charlie Ainsbury and Luke Ashton, two well-known barmen in town, opened This Must Be the Place in February. They wanted a break from labor-intensive, high-proof (and, accordingly, high-priced) cocktails. They're living evidence that simplicity is supreme. At least that's what I thought as I sipped the shimmery Rose Gold (quinquina, violette, rosé wine and grapefruit oil). It was an exercise in casual elegance. Nothing esoteric, nothing hidden and nothing presumptuous. Just a drink that's imaginative, invigorating and fiercely rewarding.
* Weisstuch is a travel, spirits and lifestyle writer based in Boston and New York. Follow her tweets: @livingtheproof.
If you go
Where to eat and drink
Stitch Bar
61 York St.
011-61-2-9279-0380
www.stitchbar.com/bar
Dim, Victorian-accented subterranean bar serving creative cocktails and modern fare, from duck sausage to lamb burgers. Drinks from $12, small plates from $9.
Bulletin Place
1, 10-14 Bulletin Pl.
www.bulletinplace.com
The daily-changing menu at this compact, shabby-chic hot spot features cocktails ($7 to $14) made with fresh, seasonal ingredients.
Grandma's Bar
Basement 275 Clarence St.
011-61-2-9264-3004
www.grandmasbarsydney.com.au
The decor at this hip basement bar is an exercise in light-hearted kitschy cool, while the rum-focused cocktail menu, from $12, allows the bartenders to display serious craftsmanship. Toasted sandwiches and retro-minded snacks from $4 to $7.
Tokyo Bird
Commonwealth Street and Belmore Lane
011-61-2-8880-0788
www.tokyobird.com.au
Tucked away in a discreet alley, this sleek but casual yakitori restaurant offers an impressive selection of Japanese whiskys and cutting-edge cocktails. Cocktails from $12; plates from $4.
This Must Be the Place
239 Oxford St.
011-61-2-9331-8063www.tmbtp.com.au
Refreshing and seasonal wine-based spritzers are the draw at this airy, minimalist bar opened in February by a pair of Sydney's best-known bartenders. Drinks from $10. The Spanish-accented snacks include chicharones ($4); cheese plates, from $17; and classic tins of seafood with toast, from $13.
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