My sort of bar

The best bars in the city shut down within a short time of being discovered. It's a fact. Pimmelies (or whatever it was called) in Cabbage Town was a gem stumbled upon on an intoxicated walk late one night. Essentially a haunted house, the dining room of this mansion was crammed with tables and antique cutlery. Waving up from below, the slightly eerie bits of jazz beckoning you down a dark staircase in an empty building were irresistible.

That first night in the basement bar the bartender sat cross armed behind a dark counter as all the patrons seemed to be leaning into each other without making a single noise. The room, lit entirely by a blazing fireplace at the end of the wooden bar, was overdecorated by antiques including a suit of armor, helmets and Mardis Gras beads. Sure enough, a year later the restaurant bar had been turned into a soulless renovated drinking hole with no appeal.

A few years later I had moved out of the Cabbage Town area and was looking forward to life near St Clair and Bathurst. On my first walk down St Clair I saw a sign promising cheap beer. My heart skipped a beat (this was at the height of my lush days). A new/old gem.

If only they hadn't closed the Chinese Canadian Tavern on St Clair West to turn it into yet another Hispanic restaurant. $2.50 mugs of beer. A jukebox with forty songs including Dixie Chicks and Garth Brooks. Textured wall paper. Embossed table tops from the 70s. Drunk senior citizen regulars with sad, sad stories and a 75 year old bartender. What else do you want from your favorite divey bar?

We had some good times at the Tavern in 2006. I would like to thank Shannon for bringing a big Eastern European oaf that wore a pink tiara as he sat and stared at every girl's ass one of the many barbecue day's/drinking night's we had that year.

I've been looking high and low for another Pimmelies (or whatever it was called) or Tavern experience. Please let me know if you have discovered a bar with the qualities described above that I should know about. The review for the Rhino reads promising but in reality the place never really quite lives up to the low down dirtiness described in the first few paragraphs:

If you just want a place to drink yourself shitty, play a little pinball, and shoot some stick, the Rhino will do you just fine.

The beer is cheap, the wine is cheap, and the pool is cheap. Ambiance? Not really: Picture a clubhouse with really high ceilings. Best part about this bar is that it's pretty much scenester free. Not uncommon to see a local hunkered down with a pitcher all to his lonesome. God bless the lonely. This is a great place to "unleash the mojo."

When you walk into The Rhino you think, "I might get my ass kicked in this place" -- not a sentiment many Toronto bars inspire these days. The Rhino is a shrine to all things Parkdale trash, and the early evening patrons aren't acting. Later, when the place fills up (almost exclusively with men), it becomes a rowdy house of pure liquor-induced fun. Sure, some of the bar-stomping routines seem like they were lifted directly from a certain Patrick Swayze movie (you know the one), but by the end of the night you'll be singing "Gimme Three Steps" along with every other guy in the place.

It is smoky. But that's just about what you might expect at this Parkdale watering hole. The tables and booths are perpetually half-full (usually by the same folk) throughout the day, as are the high tables with stools, with local after-workers -- lots of local folk, no one in a suit. You can leave your fancy shoes at home for this one.

And, yes, there is a menu. It's all elevated bar food that's so-so, and reasonably priced. Classic Americana like grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup, fried clams and deviled eggs go perfectly with a roster of old-fashioned cocktails like sidecars, stingers and draught beer.

In the land of bright shiny hip spots, here's one alternative to let yourself come undone.