Employee’s Only. Please Don’t Tell. Death & Co. These lower Manhattan establishments don’t require an introduction or description for most cocktail enthusiasts. They’re bona fide legacy bars that cropped up during the first decade of the craft cocktail movement and helped shape the scene. These industry bulwarks need no press, advertising, fanfare to garner attention. Their longevity and industry impact allows them to live in drinkers’ collective consciousness. They don’t generate the same kind of all-consuming buzz a hot new space does, but that’s because they produce a reverent type of heat nearly worthy of a sacred touchstone. If a new bar is a 2026 Maserati, a legacy bar is a 1968 Shelby Cobra.
But what about the critically acclaimed bars that opened during the movement’s second wave between 2010 and 2015? Over a decade old, these establishments may be known commodities with solid fan bases and several awards to their credit, but they tend to get left out of the legacy conversation. At the same time, they’ve been around too long to be considered the shiny new object within their communities. As such, they exist in this nebulous state on the bar scene’s timeline; too old to be an “it” bar, but too young to be an industry elder statesman. They’re essentially the bar industry’s middle children, and being wedged in this spot tends to give those running the establishments a specific point of view.
The Road to the Middle
Amor y Amargo, Williams & Graham, and Jack Rose Dining Saloon opened in 2011. Each space was an immediate hit and began snapping up a host of accolades. They also made a sizable splash in their communities — New York City, Denver, and Washington, D.C., respectively.
“We became the bar in D.C. that parents would bring their kids to, and the bar that kids would bring their parents to,” explains Jack Rose owner Bill Thomas. “Sometimes, it would be a competition to see who would bring who first.”
Eventually, the heat surrounding these bars died down. Awards and honors still rolled in, but their names appeared in print with less frequency. The drop-off was initially concerning, if not slightly confusing. “When the local press stopped writing about us, I thought we were falling down,” explains Sean Kenyon, bartender and proprietor of Williams & Graham. “I ended up calling a journalist to check in to see if we were in decline. She said the reason she didn’t write about us anymore is because she wrote about us for so long and so often, everyone knew who we were already.”
A Matter of Business
Of course, being known is not the same as being relevant. The immediate media push was enough for these second-wave bars to become established parts of a growing or evolving scene. However, it can be argued that the volume turned down before they could ascend to the rarified air reserved for the still-standing bars that came before them. This could leave these not-quite-legacy bars in a mushy middle ground that must be navigated to stay afloat, which can be tricky.
“We’re in this weird, liminal space where we’re struggling to stay in the light,” explains Sother Teague, beverage director of Amor y Amargo. “We’re not new enough to get foot traffic from guests attracted to shiny new objects. And while we’re revered, we’re not old enough for people to give a shit about whether they come here or not.”
Teague also notes such malaise doesn’t necessarily translate to a lack of appreciation, but it can produce dire consequences. “When you have a bar closing after several years of being open, people will say they loved that bar,” he says. “But if they never showed up to support it, saying they loved it pretty much means they loved it to death.”
Working through this potential indifference can be challenging when attention points toward other spots. It’s a hurdle all three bars must currently clear: It could be argued that Yacht Club in Denver, Service Bar in Washington, and schmuck. in New York’s East Village neighborhood currently bask in the limelight the trio of older bars once did. While this may be true, it’s equally accurate to state there is no jealousy or hard feelings regarding this shift. In fact, the well-established places draw from their past experiences as trendsetting bars to offer support and guidance to the spots currently earning their flowers on a large scale.
“These days, we’re more focused on building a culture of service and hospitality from within and being committed to be the best we can be for our guests. We can do that without worrying about any outside awards.”
“We’ve never thought of any of these bars as anything other than part of our community,” Thomas explains. “When one bar in D.C. wins an award or gets recognition, we all do. We’re all happy for each other’s success.”
“To see Denver bars like Yacht Club and Lady Jane grow the way they have makes me proud,” Kenyon adds. “It makes me feel kind of like a father figure to the Denver bar community.”
A Shift in Focus
These second-wave bars may not be legacy spots, but they are far from irrelevant. Amor y Amargo, Williams & Graham, and Jack Rose have earned plenty of awards and accolades during their 14 years of existence. The bars and the people associated with them haven’t stopped hauling in hardware, either: Kenyon took home the Tales of the Cocktail Spirited Award for Best Bar Mentor in 2022. But none of these spots show off the trophies, plaques, or other ephemera they’ve earned. The lack of display sends an inadvertent message about what the mindset of these bars may be. While the people behind them appreciate the recognition, the hardware clearly takes a back seat to tending to the bar’s most basic elements.
“Winning awards is great, but the pressure that comes from the award is real,” Kenyon explains. “These days, we’re more focused on building a culture of service and hospitality from within and being committed to be the best we can be for our guests. We can do that without worrying about any outside awards.”
In other words, awards may be nice, but they’re unimportant compared to the basic elements of bar service and creating an excellent guest experience, especially when you’re not buzzy but also don’t have long-standing status to fall back on. But what about achieving legacy status? Would hitting an arbitrary number like 20 years be an award-like accomplishment, or does it even matter?
“It’s not that important to be a bar that’s been around for 20 years,” Teague says. “What’s important is to still be viable, and not reach the point where the juice will be less than the squeeze.”
Retaining sufficient juice levels can get harder with each passing year, when the sheen of newness fades and profit margins aren’t padded with people who absolutely must stop in because they read a breathless article or a list of awards dropped online. The harsh realities of business can kick in when this occurs: potentially fewer customers, gradually increased rent, competition from the new, shiny object down the street. These elements can conspire to suck up the juice like a high-powered aspirator. For a bar that’s too old to be new but still too new to be old, these elements are something to be pondered on the regular.
Perhaps that’s why there’s never been a quantifiable term for a bar that’s been around for a while, but not long enough to earn legacy status. It’s ultimately meaningless. The only thing that has any meaning is taking care of guests in a way that keeps them coming back year after year.
When viewed from that perspective, a formal name is really not needed. However, an informal colloquialism may fit.
“We’re now the comfortable spot, the ‘old reliable,’ if you will. We’re OK with that,” says Kenyon. “As long as we’re making people happy, that’s all that really matters.”
