Here’s an old punk bar with the kinda rules I appreciate: YOU PUKE, YOU CLEAN. Now wouldn’t the world be a better place if all bars had Double Down Saloon’s mentality? I mean, honestly, I know everybody likes going to dive bars to get drunk, but if you take that

A rock and roll speakeasy seems as much like an oxymoron as an affordable bourbon bar, but apparently both exist in a  hideaway under the trampled sidewalks of Alphabet City. Idle Hands was first brought to my attention not because of its over 150 different bourbons (!), or intense selection

As 2024 winds down, we’re reflecting on another incredible year of sharing the stories, art, culture, and nightlife that make the Bay Area so unique. BrokeAssStuart.com wouldn’t be what it is without you—our community of readers, supporters, and believers in independent media. This year, instead of asking you to join Patreon

Boiler Room, disco ball of my night, fire of my liver. My Sin, my soul. Boi-ler Rooooom: the way the lips slightly part as the last syllable escapes the mouth and puckers as the “m” oozes from the back of the throat. Boi. Ler. Rooooom. This is one of my

I don’t know about you, but I’d travel to the far ends of the earth for great foods. Like India for its curries, Morocco for its tagines, Spain for its tapas, Japan for its raw, well, everything, etc… Fortunately in NYC you only have to take a train to the

I don’t remember the first time I went to the International Bar, and if you’re willing to spend $20 there I doubt you will either. Drinks, like the beer and shot combo, start as low as four bucks. And when I say “shot” I don’t mean that puny thimble you’re

BYOB. These four little letters help me forgive a world of sin when it comes to restaurants, much to the chagrin of fellow diners who don’t mind paying a few extra bucks for a drink, aka did not study “communications” in college and have well-paying jobs. As such, when I

Perhaps you’ve noticed the rash of $1.00 pizza joints around town nowadays. It’s really testing the limits of the age old maxim of “there’s no such thing as bad pizza in New York City,” which is true when you consider what the outland territories (read: flyover states) dare to call

I don’t often hit up sports bars. Not because I don’t care about sports, mind you, but I don’t always have the desire to watch a game unfold due to the usual ineptitude of NY teams. Frankly, I don’t need to watch the Knicks/Jets/Giants/Mets/yes, even the Yankees crash and burn