The Colonies may have declared independence from Great Britain in 1776, but the Union Jack still waves over a small, cozy drinking establishment in the Flatiron District.
The Churchill Tavern is something like the last bastion of the English Empire in North America. It’s an Anglophile’s kind of bar. Walk in off the busy Manhattan street and suddenly you find yourself in a pub that one would imagine tucked away in a quaint London alley. Think: dark wood ceilings, exposed brick walls, regal crests, a mounted deer head. A portrait of Churchill hangs over a candle-filled fireplace, and the former Prime Minister stoically surveys the dimly-lit space. The bar itself is charmingly rustic, with brass accents and tarnished copper plating. Naturally, the beer on tap leans towards the United Kingdom, serving Old Gold Hen, Fuller’s, Belhaven and Strongbow. Guinness, too, of course. An assortment of European brews are on offer as well. The place fills up on weekdays during the office exodus, and there’s a beer mug in every hand.
England isn’t known for her elevated cuisine, but this bar kitchen, open until 3 a.m., doesn’t disappoint. Fried fish with creamy tartar sauce. Scotch eggs with pickles. Sausage rolls with spiced apple sauce. And the truffled artichoke fries? Good enough to have the Queen herself licking her fingers.
The homey haunt lies just around the corner from my office. Some would call me a regular, but I prefer the term Loyalist.
>>The Churchill Tavern, 45 E. 28th St., 646.476.8419