The Most Storied Whiskey Bars in America

Of all the indignities I endure as a non-billionaire, none sting quite like knowing I’ll never lay eyes on the world’s greatest whiskey collections. They’re locked away in the mansions and super-yachts of moguls scattered across Asia, the Americas, and Europe. Worse still, we plebeians aren’t even privy to the existence of some god-tier caches. In 2019, an anonymous collector consigned 9,000 bottles to Sotheby’s, a hoard bejeweled with near-extinct treasures from Kentucky, Japan, and Scotland. His identity remains as mysterious as Satoshi Nakamoto. 

As bitter as that reality may be, I take solace in remembering the great whiskey bars across America, public temples of barrel-aged booze where the Everyman— the plumber,  the politician, and yes, the derelict writer—can sip drams even kings would covet. At institutions like Jack Rose in D.C., Travel Bar in Brooklyn, or Delilah’s in Chicago, the catalogs of whiskey are as extensive and democratic as the stacks in the Library of Congress.

These 10 storied American whiskey bars—bastions of bourbon, shrines to Scotch—fill me with hope that, in these United States, we’ve realized one of the noblest of democratic ideals: fine whiskey as an inalienable right for all. Here, here. 

I’ll seize any excuse for an evening of wining and dining in Carroll Gardens—that leafy corner of Brooklyn, home to the mythic pies of Lucali’s, the knockout burgers of Luana’s Tavern, and the dazzling whiskey library of Travel Bar. 

Mike Vacheresse, Travel Bar’s owner, describes his establishment as “a neighborhood bar with a whiskey problem.” But don’t let the laid-back ambiance fool you. Mike has curated one of the most serious collections in the City. Bartenders are as friendly as they are erudite, and if you catch Mike behind the stick, he’ll gleefully nerd out with you about whiskey history and his favorite pours. 

Anchoring its namesake neighborhood, The Flatiron Room is both nonpareil whiskey bar and world-class jazz club. Wraparound shelves of bottles climb the walls, and the whiskey menu—a leather-bound tome organized by region—hits the mahogany bar with a thud like a wizard’s grimoire. With moody lighting, an elegant ambience, and nightly live music, it’s also one of the best spots in Manhattan to impress Tinderella.

Whenever I’m lucky enough to find myself in Chicago, I make two non-negotiable pit stops: Pequod’s for a heart-stopping slice of deep dish, and Delilah’s—an altar to the twin deities of rock ‘n’ roll and whiskey. The décor is a punk-rock collage of band posters, tattoo flash, and dim red bulbs, but the whiskey program is as ruthlessly ambitious as traders on the floor of the Chicago Mercantile Exchange. Snag a stool amidst a motley crew of tweeded professors, ink-sleeved hipsters, bikers, and brokers, and splurge on some of the rarest pours money can buy.

It’s no mean feat for a whiskey bar to earn cult status in Louisville—a town where every respectable restaurant, dive, and hotel lobby houses a score of sought-after bourbons. In the Highlands neighborhood (think local’s “downtown”), Neat Bourbon Bar and Bottle Shop is a favored haunt for celebrity distillers, seersucker-clad bon vivants, and pilgrim-like aficionados from across the globe. Owners Mike and Kate Selby built their fabled collection largely on Kentucky’s Vintage Spirits law, which allows licensed retailers to buy bottles from private sellers. Translation: when someone finds a bottle of ‘78 Pappy in granny’s attic, they can (and should) sell it to Neat. And, in turn, to the grateful public.

Tucked among Tribeca’s chic storefronts and cast-iron façades, Brandy Library is a venerable New York City institution of the order of Crane Club, Peter Luger, or Jimmy’s Corner. With leather armchairs, polished wooden ladders, and a clientele of well-heeled Manhattanites, the saloon could pass for the drawing room of a Gilded Age robber baron—a Vanderbilt or Rockefeller scion with a manic lust for fine spirits. Though I rarely stray from the list of treasures from Islay (Scotch) or the House of Suntory (Japanese Whiskey), the Brandy Library also boasts one of the world’s finest collections of Cognac and Armagnac.

No list of storied American whiskey bars is complete without Jack Rose Dining Saloon. The collection—more than 2,700 bottles lining the walls of a three-story building in Adams Morgan—is as impressive in cachet as in breadth. Many bottles are one-of-a-kind relics, some over a century old. For serious malt hunters—men who chase rare bottles with the single-minded fanaticism of Captain Ahab—all roads lead to Jack Rose. And if the sheer scale leaves you with decision paralysis, just name a region and the bartender will curate a tasting flight.

With taxidermy glaring down from the walls and nary a skinny margarita or chilled rosé in sight, Seven Grand is an anomaly in L.A.—and I mean that as a compliment. The collection is over 700 bottles deep, including an enviable list of Japanese whiskeys. Slip upstairs to the Bar Jackalope, a speakeasy-style bar-within-a-bar, to indulge in the most coveted juice in the house. A word to the wise: when the bacon-wrapped “danger dogs” hawked by street vendors outside start to seem like a good idea, it’s time to cut yourself off. 

The Pacific Northwest has long been a heavyweight in beer, cider, and wine, but thanks to Westward and Westland, this emerald corner of America is fast emerging as a whiskey powerhouse. Hidden in plain sight behind an unmarked door in downtown Portland, Multnomah Whiskey Library is a members-only club that doles out a handful of nightly seats to non-members. Inside, exposed brick, stained glass light fixtures, and a glittering backbar conjure the glamour of a Jazz Age speakeasy—albeit one with more Patagonia flannels than pinstripes.

Along with with Caroline’s (now shuttered, sadly) and the Comedy Cellar, The Stand is enshrined in the triumvirate of New York City’s most legendary comedy clubs. It’s a venue where on any given night the likes of Dave Chappelle or Chris Rock might make surprise appearances. While the stage is world-famous, The Stand quietly has one of the city’s most lavish whiskey collections. On a handsome mirrored backbar, flex bottles like Pappy 20 and Birthday Bourbon sit next to singular treasures like Balvenie 40. Arrive an hour or two early, grab a bar seat, and pregame a show with mind-blowing drams and maybe a wood-fired pizza or oyster platter.

Oil barons, cowboys, and buckle bunnies, eh? Welcome to Calgary, the Houston of the Great White North. While I set out to keep this roster strictly red-white-and-blue, I would be remiss not to include Missy’s This That, a bar firmly ensconced on San Pelligrino’s list of the 50 Best Bars in North America. 

I first patronized Missy’s while in town for Stampede, after offending locals with disparaging remarks about Canadian whiskey and feeling the need to make amends. Missy’s is best known for playful cocktails, but the whiskey list—a greatest hits compilation from Canada and beyond—hits like a Nickelback banger at last call. And, I’ll eat crow after sipping Forty Creek Confederation Oak and Lot 40 Cask Strength: some Canadian whiskey is actually pretty damn good.