Temple Bar — A Girl's Guide to Drinking Alone

*The mysterious chameleon marking the entrance*

332 Lafayette St btw Houston and Bleecker Sts, NoHo

The Place: A dark and moody cocktail bar that I had originally written off because I went on a terrible date here once.

The Time: Thursday October 24, 6pm. Manhattan errands in the afternoon + dinner plans with a friend in Manhattan at night = exactly one hour to kill in Manhattan! (That’s girl math right there.) I was walking around NoHo when I came across a familiar-looking white chameleon on a black brick wall on Lafayette Street. I suddenly had a Proustian rush of a god-awful date I was subjected to around 10 years ago that took place beyond the depths of this skeletal lizard. But I also remembered reading something about it being resurrected by cocktail veterans, so I’m like, “I can’t even recall that dude’s name so why shouldn’t I give the bar another shot?”

The Vibe: Oh, it’s a vibe, and a date vibe at that. It’s got strong speakeasy energy with dim lighting and no windows, mahogany walls, red velvet curtains (or are they green? It’s so dark in here I can’t tell), black and white tile flooring. The bar winds its way through the front area, and off to the right is a small room of tables and lounge furniture. It’s also loud, even though it’s not packed. That’s mostly due to the volume of the music (which is mainly rap and hip hop) but it’s not oppressive–again, it’s a vibe. I have zero memory of anything about this date that I went on back when Obama was president except that it was horrific, but if this place had the same energy as it does now, it’s sexy AF. So it certainly wouldn’t have been the bar’s fault that the date sucked.

I’m able to get a spot at the bar easily, though there’s a group clustered at the end. There are cute Art Deco lamps on the bar, important for being able to read the menu, so thank you to whoever made that decision. But I instantly notice that the bar top is so low (or the bar seats are so high) that I can’t cross my legs under the bar. I don’t get it, did anyone sit and test this out before committing to this design choice?? Because I’m not a large person and this is a tight squeeze. Just get lower seats, I want to be able to cross my legs and chill rather than being forced to sit upright like I’m in an electric chair. It’s the kind of bar setup where I can’t really find a comfortable position–it’s much better suited for a date when you’re distracted by the other person, for better or for worse.

The Bartender: A lovely woman named Aysha (I must be butchering the spelling, I’m so sorry!). She answers my questions about the history of the bar and the changes that were made. Her station is at the other end of the bar, so my head turns every time I hear her shake a cocktail, which is often. Also that’s where the most people are, so either Aysha is super popular or that’s just the part of the bar where the regulars go.

The Drank: There’s a long menu of “Citrus/Shaken” cocktails, then another lengthy list of Martinis (any of which you could add a “bump of caviar” to for $20) and “Stirred” (any of which you could add Champagne to for $4, which, compared to the caviar, is an absolute bargain). All of the cocktails are either $22 or $23 (except the “Minis” and nonalcoholic options) and I’m afraid Manhattan has officially hit a mean cocktail average of one Andrew Jackson (more girl math), which is really a shame on all fronts.

I ask Aysha about the Blue Negroni, which contains something called Blue Kampari™. She tells me that “it is a Negroni that is blue” so I choose the Temple House Gibson Martini instead. Anybody who knows me knows that I think a Gibson is just a martini with a pickled onion garnish and shouldn’t have its own name. A Gibson is also a drink that I would never have ordered just a few years ago. This one is a 50/50 martini with gin and manzanilla sherry, a dash of sherry vinegar and onions. I love a good 50/50 martini with gin and sherry–who have I become?! (I blame Martini Time.) Also at some point a bowl of hot, salty popcorn gets placed in front of me and I couldn’t be happier. (I’m still a sucker for free bar snacks, just like I was back in 2017 when naive little me was horrified by the thought of spending $16 on a cocktail. Some things don’t change.)

Was I Hit On?: Blissfully I did not have a repeat of my dreadful-date-of-yore, but I am a witness to what initially sounds like a first date. A guy and a girl sit down to my left, she orders a dirty vodka martini, he orders a diet coke. She looks around and says excitedly, “Taylor Swift has been here!” which is something I did not know because I do not care. I quickly ascertain that this is probably a second date where he really wants to impress her, because this guy has designed a whole night where they get drinks here first and then are going to dinner at a place where T-Swift has ALSO been. “Oh, has she? I didn’t know.” LIAR! Either he’s a secret Swiftie or he actually LISTENED to her when she was rhapsodizing about The Tortured Poets Department. Or, the secret third option: it’s all over her Hinge profile.

Should You Drink Here Alone?: The drink was delicious, Aysha was great, I spent a really nice hour here. But if it isn’t obvious already, Temple Bar is a date spot, so come with someone you either want to impress or have sex with (or both!). And hey, if your date is wretched, at least you can wash it down with a good martini.