Review: Los Punk in St. Louis

Editor's note: Los Punk has closed.

“There’s no cocktail menu. We’re going the other way,” said the bartender at Los Punk as he tilted back a generous pour of whiskey into my first drink of the night, a Jameson and ginger ale, and slid it across the bar. A little sweet but stiff as hell, it’s a satisfying and casual little escape. There’s no better descriptor for the drink or the bar.

On a Friday night, Los Punk rocks. A low-key band takes to the collapsible wooden stage tucked in the back of the gritty, cramped saloon. Dim, noisy, oddly orange and not particularly organized, Los Punk is the ideal port in the storm for drinkers weary of cookie-cutter or even craft-focused bars. You won’t find anyone nursing a Manhattan with barrel-aged rye and a fat maraschino floating on top. Tall shots of Fireball Cinnamon Whisky washed down with a bottle of Lone Star or a can of Busch are much more fitting here, where a bottle of regular Stolichnaya is about as high-end as you’re going to get. (It’s hard not to love a place that proudly showcases a bottle of Old Crow bourbon.) The bottled beer collection – there is no tap – is something that looks like a grab bag of suds snatched from someone’s parents’ fridge.

The mischievous, adolescent theme extends to the space. something like a sulking teenager’s bedroom, the 16-foot bar is hemmed in by walls adorned with rock posters, depraved-looking longhorn skulls and a stand-up cardboard cutout of Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. The backyard is choked with smokers milling around a fire pit and a handful of plastic chairs that could have easily been yanked off the deck of my first apartment.

The uber-laid-back atmosphere is the work of owner Brian Thomas, who on any given night works his way around a hot grill out back or presents dishes he put together earlier in the day – like chicken paprikash, a Hungarian stew served out of a slow cooker next to that bottle of Old Crow. A well-worn board on the front wall lists the nominal food offerings. Like the booze and beer, it’s whatever they want to make that day; expect anything from greasy burgers to Korean barbecue tofu in delicate lettuce wraps.

Throwing his lot in with the growing number of new entertainment venues on Cherokee Street, Thomas opened Los Punk this January to the affection of neighborhood regulars who dig the original punk-rock, saloon-type venue enhanced by homemade street food. The “punk” moniker shouldn’t serve as a deterrent; on various nights this place will host every type of music from reggae to alternative rock to local DJs and out-of-town rock groups.

Much more of a bohemian rock house than a seedy dive bar, Los Punk certainly welcomes more than Cherokee regulars and music fiends. And though the place is still raw and stumbles at times to find its feet, Los Punk benefits from a unique style and unapologetic attitude that, like Cherokee Street itself these days, lends to itself an attractive confidence.