DINER THEORY NYC - Rudy's Bar & Grill

Come meet the Baron

Rudy's claims to be the most famous dive bar in NYC, but that claim is pretty fraught. Let aside for a moment that there are certainly contenders for the title, "fame" and "dive bars" are rather odd bedfellows. Shouldn't a dive bar be sort of dingy and uninviting? Can a bar that is "famous" truly still be a dive? I was certainly asking myself this question during my stay in New York, as I tried on three separate occasions to visit Rudy's, and only on the third visit was there enough room for me to make it more than a foot past the door. I shouldn't have to try this hard to go to a dive bar. Should I?

Well, there's one thing about Rudy's that is indisputably divey: the prices. Beer can be had for as little as $4 - don't let anyone tell you ya can't eat cheap in New York. But there's another that that, despite all the crowds and the notoriety, as well as the replacement of their old jazz-heavy jukebox, persistently warrants Rudy's description as a dive: the glorious chaos of it all

.

There's a pig mascot outside (named "The Baron"), who's been stolen enough times to have to be bolted down, and exudes an aura of excess and debauchery despite his smart suit jacket. There's a booth or two in here whose naugahyde has been almost entirely replaced by colored duct tape. I'm pretty sure I saw Flava Flav standing in the corner. I've barely ordered a drink when the bartender has shoved a hot dog in my face - did I mention you get a free hot dog with every drink purchase? Though it varies in intensity by night, Rudy's is wild. It's crazy. Its tile saxophone-adorned walls, Tiffany glass lampshades, and eternally affordable prices are always a comfort in this fast changing world, but there is an element of the unpredictable that lives at Rudy's.

There is a cross-cultural truce in place at Rudy's. Literally any type of person could walk through the door on a given night, although party-seeking twentysomethings comprise the majority on Friday and Saturday nights. And the world-weary bartenders are ready for any of them. It's not that they're particularly surly or brusque, relative to other NYC dive baes; they have a welcoming but not-overtly-friendly demeanor that I'm sure equips them to handle any number of situations. They've got lots of other people to tend to, so they're a little light on conversation, and yet I never walk away feeling like they deserve any less than my most generous tip. They work harder in an hour than I'm sure many of us do in a week

.

It's almost a little difficult to get a good look at Rudy's. They keep it dark, as any good dive should be. There's probably a crowd of people standing between you and the surprisingly ornate walls. The alcohol certainly can't help keep any remembered experience of the place from feeling a blur. But if you get a chance, it really is a beautiful little bar. The history is worn into the walls like laugh lines. They hold one of the first post-Prohibition liquor licenses in NYC, you know. Many lives have been lived in this place. And sure, it's easy enough to just get blitzed with your friends on some of the cheapest beer in town. But a good dive should be amenable to more contemplative moments as well, in the off-hours at least. Good thing they open at 8am most days. Because who doesn't love hot dogs eaten alongside elderly alcoholics for breakfast? (A final word about the hot dogs - they come with both mustard AND ketchup, usually heretical among NYC hot dog afficianados, so let em know if you're an all-mustard maverick).