Behind an unassuming door on an unassuming West Village corner is Little Branch–a pioneer in the speakeasy-style revival. Much more than a subterranean bar with a theme, Little Branch is as much a trendsetter as it is a shrine to the origins of modern American bar and cocktail cultures.
Stepping down into Little Branch feels like being let in on a well-kept secret, though, as you might surmise from the crowd, that secret is out. Nevertheless, the space itself is comfy with standing room and cozy booths and a small stage that hosts live jazz. The vibe is sultry and, in that anemoiac way, timeless. Subtle lighting and understated touches evoke the 1920s without veering into kitsch or parody.
The cocktails here are, in a word, masterful. In keeping with its decor, the menu is populated by classics, so order one and you’ll receive what is likely the best version one could possibly have of that thing, anywhere. If you’re not into what’s on offer, give the expert bartenders some prompts and they’ll happily whip something up bespoke.
Strict house rules are posted to keep riffraffery to a minimum, so observe them. No men in hats, so don’t bring your dudebro who can’t part his head from his Stetson or backward white baseball cap. No name-dropping, so check your star-fucker friend who doesn’t realize that name-dropping is insufferable. And any persuasion of a woo-girl unwilling/unable to regulate their volume is welcome to drink elsewhere.
Little Branch neatly bridges a century of American nightlife history. Now that Chumley’s is gone for good, LB is as close as anyone can get to time-traveling to the days of Fitzgerald and Josephine Baker, at least in The Village.