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Bars
For my money the only ‘cocktail’ worthy of the name is the classic martini, together with the gimlet
It’s like dropping into the opening scene of an Agatha Christie story: anything could happen
Establishments where writers and reporters liked to drink hold for me a privileged position
The pub has Ireland, and the Irish experience in America, in its DNA
The mere fact it is on that liminal, edgy, Mexico-American borderland adds a definite frisson
I once said when it closes, it’ll be time to leave New York. That was seventeen years ago
What Colony lacks in ash it makes up for with the world’s best pizza, one designed specifically for drinkers
Spare a thought, dear Americans, for the British cost-of-drinking crisis
