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Any watering hole with poor signage and dim lighting seems to feel entitled to call itself a “speakeasy,” and the word has become something of a fashionable affectation. Yet seeking out truly clandestine bars in Philadelphia felt entirely appropriate, given the city’s renowned defiance of Prohibition. Philly was rampant with bootleggers, organized crime and dirty cops. Historians believe that more than 10,000 illegal bars operated there during the period. The 18th Amendment may be out, but speakeasies are very much in in the City of Brotherly Love. We had a great time seeking five of them out, though not every secret door revealed a gem.
Tucked within an unassuming building of black-painted bricks, this exceptionally stylish lounge is conveniently located just east of Rittenhouse Square. “Andra Hem” means “second home” in Swedish, and it lives up to its name, with soft lighting, bold interiors and good-humored bartenders. From our bright-blue barstools, we could appreciate the splendor of the room, in which cobalt walls collided with an entrancing botanical-patterned ceiling, a look that was at once chaotic and utterly glamorous. We enjoyed two of their seasonal offerings, both as bold as the maximalist décor: What the Pho, a zesty cocktail combining pho-spiced gin, rum, Thai basil, vermouth and jalapeño, and a tequila martini enlivened with Sichuan peppercorn and herbaceous Génépi liqueur. Patrons next to us had ordered a plate of smoked salmon served with pickled jalapeños and a grapefruit vinaigrette, which looked tempting enough to derail our dinner plans. We will be back, possibly even for the dessert-worthy milk punch cocktail that pairs rum with crème de menthe and crème de cacao.
Andra Hem
218 South 16th Street. Tel. (215) 545-0823
This speakeasy is sequestered within The Franklin on Rittenhouse, an unassuming hotel next to the square. An unmarked door behind reception affords access to the bar. We arrived soon after opening time, a precaution well worth taking given the no-standing policy. The intimate, elegant space looked the part, with a gold-tinted ceiling and chairs of plush blue velvet and cognac-hued leather. On that chilly afternoon, I asked the bartender for something rich and restorative, and he delivered, presenting the seasonal old-fashioned, a strong mix of bourbon with pecan and walnut bitters that warmed me from the inside out. Next, I took a chance on the unique Pepe Sylvia, a bold combination of cocoa-butter-washed rum, aged-cheese cordial and mashed berries that proved to be perfectly balanced and memorable. The wine list held its own too, including a top-notch Grechetto Bianco from Umbria and a Pinot Noir from Burgundy’s Côte Chalonnaise. This has become one of my favorite lairs in Philly.
Franklin Mortgage & Investment Company
1715 Rittenhouse Square. Tel. (215) 546-9544
The city’s most talked-about hidden bar is Hop Sing Laundromat, a notoriously difficult spot to access in Chinatown. A red light behind a metal gate was the only indication of its presence, and it was rather exciting to find it. But the fun ended there. The brusque owner directed us to some seats and spent far too long enumerating the rules: no photos, no phones, no hats, cash only. He announced with some pride that he keeps a copy of every guest’s ID on file, ready to ban anyone who violates one of his regulations. These days, it can be important to set boundaries, but his imperious tone sabotaged the experience. We needed a drink. My cocktail, the Co-gi, a mix of ginger and coconut liqueurs, kalani, lime juice, egg white and Thai chile pepper, was admittedly excellent, like a piña colada with an extra kick. The moody setting and delicious libations aside, the uniformly unfriendly staff left a bad taste in my mouth. For some, the surliness may read as cachet, but we left feeling more relieved than enchanted.
Hop Sing Laundromat
1029 Race Street. No phone.
Famed restaurateur Stephen Starr opened Ranstead Room as a companion to El Rey, his adjacent Mexican eatery. Those at the restaurant can access the bar through the kitchen, but we sought out the exterior entrance. The dark alley was daunting, but a red light above a black door bearing the letters RR indicated we were in the right place. The glamorous interior was every inch the archetypal speakeasy, with blood-red leather booths, louche paintings and a gilded chandelier, yet the décor stopped just short of kitsch. The setting is gorgeous, but the passionate bartenders and the inspired drinks are what truly set this bar apart. My Ranstead Spider combined mezcal, mole bitters and Bittermens Elemakule Tiki Bitters into a smoky cocktail with notes of cinnamon and allspice that evoked flavors from Oaxaca. From my barstool, it was riveting to watch the expert mixologists measure, muddle and shake an arsenal of spirits, bitters and house-made infusions. Arrive early; this bar, like Franklin Mortgage & Investment Company, has a no-standing policy.
Ranstead Room
2013 Ranstead Street. Tel. (215) 563-3330
Of all the bars we visited, Blind Barber comes closest to the format of a true 1920s speakeasy. It’s hidden at the rear of a working barber shop, not just lurking behind a nondescript door. But the secret of this hybrid tonsorium-tavern isn’t exactly close-cropped. The company behind it operates six similar establishments across the country. When we entered, a barber nodded toward the back, and we passed a man getting a cut, cocktail in hand. The bar was unexpectedly spacious, a scale that worked against the sense of a clandestine find. And unfortunately, the “Specialty” cocktails weren’t especially special, offering modest variations on classics, like an espresso martini made with horchata, with the option to swap vodka for tequila, or the Batman, essentially a French 75 sweetened with elderflower. When I challenged the bartender to create a refreshing cocktail using mezcal as the base, he rose to the occasion with a Paloma-like drink that was both bright and tart. I wish the menu had shown the same ambition. Blind Barber is resting on its laurels, the concept proving far more inspired than the execution.
Blind Barber
1325 Sansom Street. Tel. (215) 528-9485