Death & Co. remains one of my favorite bars in New York City, but it was also the scene of the most brutal date of my tenure here. I matched with a woman on Hinge, and we made plans to meet up that evening. I figured Death & Co. would impress her, but making a Resy slipped my mind. It was Saturday night, mind you. After waiting in line for twenty exquisitely awkward minutes, Tinderella exhaled a plume of Parliament smoke and announced that she was heading back to Long Island.
I still went inside and had a great time. The bartender comped me a drink and reminded me that my Brookhaven belle had actually done me a solid, saving me a few shekels on a courtship clearly not destined for greatness.
Because I could not stop for Death — He kindly stopped for me —
If there were a Hall of Fame for modern American cocktail bars, Death & Co. would have its own wing. Opened in 2006 in the East Village, it helped define America’s craft-cocktail revival. When I lived in Houston, a bartender at Anvil—another temple of mixology—told me she studied Death & Co: Modern Classic Cocktails like scripture. Years later, I spotted a copy behind the bar at a tiny cocktail den in Tokyo.
Death & Co. now has locations in Denver, Los Angeles, Washington, D.C., and Australia, but the OG location remains as polished and creative as ever. Scores of dazzling cocktail bars have opened in Manhattan since 2006, but lines still appear nightly outside that discreet wooden door on East 6th Street. Staying power worthy of Federer, I say!
I went recently with my buddy Andrew, another lifestyle journalist, to try the new summer menu. When I told the bartender I had a weakness for Green Chartreuse, he made me a riff on the Last Word—as green as fresh limeade and as fragrant as spring in the French Alps. Next came the High Plains Drifter, a bucking bronco of tequila, mezcal, green apple, and Chartreuse. Preparing to imbibe like soldiers of fortune, we fortified ourselves with fried chicken, tuna tartare, and pigs in a blanket.
Andrew, who writes about points and miles, was droning on about a new credit card with juicy bonus points on dining. I reminded him that picking up the tab would earn him a veritable Comstock Lode of points. “It’s a win-win, bro.”
We stumbled out into the East Village night and made our way to McSorley’s. If you’re going to keep drinking after Death & Co., you might as well stick to New York City classics.
