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Reynolds Cafe
- Nearest Transit:
-
181st St (A)
181st St (1)
- Music:
- Juke Box
3 reviews for Reynolds Cafe
"Welcome to the Clubhouse!"
Small and surprisingly crowded for early evening on a Monday, Reynolds Cafe is much like that tree house your father built for you in the backyard all those years ago. You begged and he complied, but it wasn't finished until the "No Girls Allowed!" sign was nailed to the top rung of the wooden ladder.
That was how it felt, at any rate. Small, cozy, and familiar. The bartender Ish[mael] is a nice, easy going guy who is friendly and sociable. The whole place is filled with old men. It kinda felt like I was shopping for a grandpa. "The one with the glasses looks comforting. But the guy with the suspenders has better war stories."
"Not many women come in here," Ish warned. "Maybe 1 in 60."
I smiled and nodded, "That's fine." A portly grampy from down the bar beamed, "Welcome to the clubhouse!" Yeah. The clubhouse. I nestled into my barstool and ordered an Old Fashioned. Ish nodded, and 10 minutes later brought me a shot glass with an ice cube, Wild Turkey 101, a wedge of lemon, and a splash of soda water in it.
"We're all out of Crown Royal and sugar," he explained apologetically. I shrugged. No harm done. "Shots are $4." I shrugged again. $4 for shots? I'm already a fan because of your diverse selection of PopPops.
Ish then told of the manager, Pat, who works Saturdays. He said to stop by so Pat could tell us stories of the neighborhood. My favorite grandfather, Joe, nodded along. "My English is not so good, but..." The rest was inaudible.
It's okay, Joe. Shhh. Just rest. Rest them big, old eyeballs. You're such a fuckin' cute old man! I wanna put you in a whacked out holiday sweater and parade you around.
They don't have any beer on tap, and the selection in the bottle isn't that great, and I was about 50 years younger than everyone else in the place (aside from Ish), but Reynolds has got history. Most of which you can still find sitting at the bar, nursing vodkas and waters. And I love it. They may be grown up, but they're still Little Rascals.
Reynolds is one of the dirtiest, most depressing dives I have ever been in.
Washington Heights has a handful of good Irish dives left over from the days when it was an Irish neighborhood. Now many local ethnic businesses cater largely to Dominicans. The Chinese restaurants serve fried plantains and jukeboxes in Irish bars feature Bachatta alongside Lynyrd Skynrd, The Clancy Brothers, and other traditional offerings.
Reynolds Cafe is the best Irish dive left for a few reasons. (Though The Irish Brigade is also quite good.)
1. The bartender (owner?) is in his seventies, skinny as a rail and is pretty good in Spanish. He's also quite nice though sometimes I worry he is going to keel over and die while pouring my drink.
2. Prices can't be beat. I paid under $5 for a Johny walker red. Up the street it would be $8. As best as I can tell, the bartender keeps tabs in his head and charges what he thinks you owe at the end. I am always pleasantly surprised.
3. Last time I was at Reynolds there was a line for the men's room most of the time despite the fact that the same 10 people were there all night. Cocaine is a helluva drug.
All this place needs are a few urns filled with the ashes of patrons who drank themselves to death.
