The world's star bars

Sinatra, Hemingway, DiCaprio, Churchill, Dietrich, Coward - we mix with the greats in the world’s celebrity cocktail bars

Of all the gin joints in all the world, picking the very best is fraught with danger. You can recommend a bar where you had a whale of a night and send along friends who will report back that they didn’t know what all the fuss was about, or that it was full of poseurs, or the drinks were watered or the bellinis premixed. However, some bars are so rich in history, so iconic, it is almost impossible to have a bad time, because you are making a pilgrimage of sorts, albeit one where you can order a fine drink at the end (not always a feature of the original pilgrimages). Here are a dozen of our favourites, not the latest flash-in-the-pan watering holes, but ones that will still be here when your grandchildren are asking: “Grandpa, what was a Boujis?”

HOTEL NACIONAL, Havana

You get serious cocktail action in Havana, and it is de rigueur to follow the Hemingway mantra: “My mojito in the Bodeguita del Medio and my daiquiri in the Floridita.” But where do you take your cuba libre? At the Vista al Golfo bar (gulf view bar) of the vast (and vastly improved) Hotel Nacional de Cuba, where you are likely to see the likes of Naomi or Kate and Ralph Fiennes or Robert Redford (Fidel actually came to visit him at the Nacional). Inside are pictures of even starrier guests who have stayed over the past 70-odd years, including Winston Churchill (with cigar, natch), Nat King Cole, Marlon Brando, Francis Ford Coppola and Frank Sinatra. There are six bars altogether (including a cigar bar) but the Golfo is the only one open 24 hours.

Remember the name: Nelson will do the honours.

Make mine a ... mojito (rum, lime, mint, sugar syrup, soda), £1.90, because cuba libres can get boring.

On the soundtrack: Chan Chan by Compay Segundo.

Call me a 1950s cab: the Nacional is at Calle 21 y O, Vedado, Plaza (00 53 7 836 3564, www.hotelnacionaldecuba.com ).

HARRY’S NEW YORK BAR, Paris

Perhaps because of their memory-twisting nature, cocktails often have a disputed history. Take the bloody mary. Many think Hemingway invented it at the Ritz in Paris (in fact, he only came up with a variation on the recipe). The real thing was created by an American bartender, Ferdinand “Pete” Petiot, at Harry’s New York Bar in Paris, which claims to be Europe’s oldest cocktail bar. It was, indeed, shipped over from the USA and opened on Thanksgiving Day 1911, which means it predates its namesake in Venice by 20 years.

The original 1921 bloody-mary recipe called for equal parts of vodka and tomato juice, but in 1934, having moved back to the USA, Petiot added black and cayenne pepper, Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco sauce and lemon juice to spice up the drink for New Yorkers. He called this the Red Snapper, and the excellent King Cole Bar at the St Regis, where he did the tweaking, still calls its bloody marys by that name.

These days, the woody saloon New York style of Harry’s Bar has something of a Parisian bistro feel, but you can catch the whiff of the jazz/prohibition age at its well-stocked bar, and a mid-afternoon cocktail still feels like a guilty pleasure.

Harry’s makes a good combo with the Hemingway Bar (once the Little Bar, which Ernest “liberated” from the Germans) at the Ritz, which does not open until the evening – Harry’s kicks off at midday – where ace barman Colin Field will make his damn fine Picasso martini, and relieve you of £16 for the privilege. It’s worth every penny.

Remember the name: Alain Da Silva is the bar manager.

Make mine a ... bloody mary (£7.50) or, for the same price, the latest in a long line of creations, the Web Spirit, in honour of the internet: mezcal, cranberry juice, lemon juice and peach liqueur.

On the soundtrack: George Gershwin’s An American in Paris. He composed it on the piano in the downstairs bar.

Call me a cab: Harry’s is at 5 Rue Daunou (Sank Roo Doe Noo, as the bartenders used to instruct non-French-speakers); 00 33 1 42 61 71 14, www.harrys-bar.fr).

THE CROWN BAR, Belfast

Belfast is full of fantastically quirky pubs, such as Bittle’s Bar and the Morning Star, but the Crown Liquor Saloon is the only one to be owned by the National Trust, to have been a film star and to have been lauded by Sir John Betjeman as a “many coloured cavern”. The pub appeared in the underrated Odd Man Out, which had James Mason as an IRA gunman making his way across the city. The flamboyant interior, all ornate tiles and columns, mirrors, fabulous plasterwork and woodcarvings (mostly originally done by Italian craftsmen who were in town to work on churches) was feted when it was unveiled in 1885. During the Troubles, the Crown suffered damage from more than 40 blasts and when it was time to restore the pub, stills from Odd Man Out were used for reference. (Bizarrely, they were working from photographs of a faithful replica of the Crown that had been built in England for the interior shots.) Cyril Cusack, who appeared in the movie, enjoyed one of the first postrestoration pints. These days, the pub is crowded with locals and tourists, and it still has the 10 cosy snugs where, as Betjeman said, “serious drinkers can hoist their pints in contented privacy”. You could do worse than join them.

Remember the name: Colum presides over the granite bar.

Make mine a... Whitewater Belfast Ale (£2.80).

On the soundtrack: Van Morrison Live at the Grand Opera House Belfast (it’s just over the road).

Call me a cab: you can be found at the Crown Bar, 46 Great Victoria Street (028 9027 9901, www.crownbar.com ). But tell them which snug you’re in.

AUTHORS’ LOUNGE, The Oriental, Bangkok

Why not the jungle-themed, jazzy Bamboo Bar, where you might find Matt Dillon, Leonardo DiCaprio and Pierce Brosnan? Well, you can move on there, but begin at the white-rattan Authors’ Lounge, which is housed in the oldest part of the building, where the original Bamboo Bar was. Here you will find the spirit of Somerset Maugham, Noël Coward and Joseph Conrad, from the days when things at the Oriental were less sedate. Gavin Young, author of In Search of Conrad, describes Bangkok in the early days of the hotel (in the late 19th century) as being “like the Wild West”. He goes on: “An engineer named Hitchcock, having ‘forgotten’ to pay his drink bills, was successfully sued by the Oriental. Having settled his dues at the Oriental’s bar and seeing Mr Andersen, the owner, standing there, he drew a pistol and took deliberate aim... the bullet glanced off the wall, ricocheting towards the veranda.” You can still take cocktails in the Authors’ Lounge or, better, out on its veranda, watching the sun set over the lush gardens, but you no longer have to dodge bullets.

Remember the name: Sompong Boonsri is the main mixer.

Make mine a ... rum-fuelled oriental mai tai (£4).

On the soundtrack: Noël Coward’s Mad Dogs and Englishmen (“In Bangkok at 12 o’clock they foam at the mouth and run, but...”)

Call me a cab: there’s always one waiting outside 48 Oriental Avenue (00 66 2 659 9000, www.mandarinoriental.com ).

WHITE HORSE TAVERN, New York

One of the two Dylans who drank here is dead. This is a proper old New York saloon (1880), where Dylan Thomas drank his last in 1953 before expiring at St Vincent’s Hospital, via the Chelsea Hotel. He was just 39. Bob, on the other hand, survived. There is a plaque and a Dylan Thomas Room to commemorate its most famous patron, but the Welsh word wizard who was finished off by scotch (18 of them, legend has it) was hardly the only hard-drinking writer who used the Greenwich Village tavern. Hunter S Thompson partied here and, in the 1950s, Norman Mailer and James Baldwin were regulars, and Jack Kerouac was thrown out on the road for being more than one over the eight. Having spent a couple of blurry nights here a few years back with some serious drinkers, I do wonder how bad you have to get for that to happen these days.

Remember the name: Bob Walsh will pull you a pint.

Make mine a ... Redhook beer (£2.75). Skip the whisky chaser.

On the soundtrack: you choose. The MP3 jukebox has access to virtually every track in the world, but can it get Stan Tracey’s version of Under Milk Wood?

Call me a cab: to 567 Hudson Street, between West 11th Street and Perry Street (00 1 212 243 9260).

PRAIRIE HOTEL, Parachilna, South Australia

There are only seven locals in total in Parachilna, which is 290 miles north of Adelaide, but this place is always full of interesting characters, many of them from nearby (that’s a relative term) mining towns. The Prairie is the classic, friendly, low-rise, tall-tale-telling outback pub, so much so that film-makers use it when they want an authentic backdrop – the backdrop being the Flinders Ranges on one side and the vast, empty, red desert plains of South Australia on the other. The pub has been used in Rabbit-Proof Fence and Holy Smoke, as well as the notorious “So where the bloody hell are you?” tourism ad campaign. It has 12 rooms, a popular pool and a restaurant serving bush food.

Remember the name: owner Jane Fargher (who with her husband, Ross, reinvigorated the place, starting in 1991) or Margii, the manager.

Make mine a ... Fargher Lager, brewed specially for the hotel, £2.20 a pint.

On the soundtrack: Parachilna Sunset by local singer-songwriter John O’Dea.

Call me a cab: you must be joking, mate. But a bus comes through two or three times a week. The hotel is on the corner of High Street and West Terrace, Parachilna, SA 5730 (00 61 8 8648 4844, www.prairiehotel.com.au ).

THE POLO LOUNGE, Los Angeles

There are new celeb hang-outs opening in LA every other week, but few will ever last long enough to match the wealth of stories woven into the fabric of the Polo Lounge at the Beverly Hills Hotel. It goes all the way back to Bogart and beyond: it was here that Raquel Welch was “discovered” at the pool; that an elegantly clad Marlene Dietrich buried the “no slacks” rule for women; where the Beatles relaxed after being smuggled into the hotel to avoid rapacious fans; where Frank Sinatra drank into the wee small hours, afraid, as always, of calling it a day. Yet it wears its history lightly; decor is reassuringly classic and comfortable, service is impeccable, even if they don’t recognise you, and drinks are well made. And while it may not be the deal-making power it once was, it still gets the stars: it was here that Kate Hudson and Owen Wilson fuelled engagement rumours recently.

Remember the name: ask for Matt Martinez.

Make mine a ... classic dry martini (£7), vodka or gin, it’s your choice, there are more than 45 spirit varieties to choose from.

On the soundtrack: Thomas Newman’s music for Robert Altman’s The Player, with Jack Lemmon on piano.

Call me a stretch: you’ll need picking up from the Beverly Hills Hotel and Bungalows, 9641 Sunset Boulevard (00 1 310 276 2251, www.beverlyhillshotel.com ).

TOWN AND COUNTRY LOUNGE, Mayflower Hotel, Washington DC

Remember those clubby bars in The West Wing where Toby or Josh would sneak off to to drown their sorrows, make an assignation or pick up some gossip? Well, those intimate dark wood and leather watering holes were based on the Town and Country Lounge in the Mayflower Hotel. Built in 1925, its politico credentials are impressive, from being J Edgar Hoover’s favoured lunch place for 20 years to being the site of Roosevelt’s “We have nothing to fear but fear itself” speech. However, as with many great bars, the secret weapon here is the weekday barman who works the 5pm-2am shift: Sambonn Lek. He is the man Raise a glass to Bogie in LA’s Polo Lounge behind the 101 cocktails on the bar’s list, but his skills go beyond mere mixing – he specialises in magic tricks. Levitating $20 bills is one of the favourites. He also has the skill of making money float willingly from his clients’ pockets to his charity, Sam Relief (www.samrelief.org ), which has built nine schools in his home country, Cambodia, and dug wells and provided medicine for poor villages. So, who said drinking cocktails never did anyone any good?

Remember the name: just call him Sam. Make mine a... Sam-I-Am (Ketel One Citroen, cranberry, amaretto; £8).

On the soundtrack: Let’s Impeach the President by Neil Young.

Call me a limo: Mayflower Hotel, 1127 Connecticut Avenue (00 1 202 347 3000, www.marriott.com ).

ACADEMIA DA CACHACA, Rio de Janeiro

It is unusual to find a bar specialising in just one spirit, but this tiny hole-in-the-wall is a temple to cachaça, Brazil’s potent cane spirit, with a staggering 500 varieties on offer. It has a reputation for making the finest caipirinhas (cachaça, lime, sugar, crushed ice) in town. It isn’t in a particularly glamorous locale, but it’s the place to check out what the cocktails should taste like.

Then, make for the Garota de Ipanema, across from the famous beach (with large windows to admire the views). It was a hang-out for Antonio Carlos Jobim and Vinicius de Moraes in the early 1960s, when it was called Veloso, and legend has it that, mesmerised by a teenage beauty called Heloisa Eneida Menezes Paes Pinto, they penned The Girl from Ipanema there. Sadly, the legend isn’t quite true: the song was written elsewhere, although the part about the pair watching Heloisa day after day is true. Although it’s now something of a tourist trap, you can still sit in the window and watch the beauties of both sexes walk by – and get a decent cold beer.

Remember the name: Helena is the cachaça queen.

Make mine a ... caipirinha at Academia (£1.50 up), a Chopp beer (70p), like Jobim and Moraes, at Garota.

On the soundtrack: Brazil Classics Vol 1, curated by David Byrne for his Luaka Bop label.

Call me a cab: the Academia is at Rua Conde Bernadotte 26 (00 55-21 2529 2680, www.academiadacachaca.com ); Garota de Ipanema is at Rua Vinicius de Moraes 39 (21 2523 3787).

LA CAPILLA, Tequila, Mexico

The town of Tequila (south of Guadalajara) is something of a shrine for serious drinkers, and La Capilla is its holy grail. It’s a brightly lit bar – the oldest in town, but that doesn’t mean it’s grand – stuffed with arcane memorabilia, pin-ups and taxidermy. The tequileros come here for the batanga (lime, salt, Tequileño Blanco, cola), a drink invented by the patron, Don Javier, 50 years ago. The bar will be full of locals who speak no English, Americans who speak no Spanish, and plenty of people incapable of speech altogether. Payment is mostly by honour system – the owner will ask how many batangas you have had and you pay him. The trick is remembering.

Remember the name: Don Javier Delgado Corona.

Make mine a ... you virtually have no choice, it’ll be a batanga (less than a pound normally, but it could be more, might be less – it depends on the Don’s mood).

On the soundtrack: an eclectic jukebox exists; select Tequila Sunrise by the Eagles.

Call me a cab: there is no street sign, bar sign, no published phone number, but everyone in Tequila knows Don Javier.

THE BRAZEN HEAD, Dublin

How do you choose a pub in a drinking city like Dublin? Well, I would follow the advice of James Joyce, who claimed: “You get a decent enough do at the Brazen Head for a bob.” Joyce actually got the location of the pub wrong, and a pint of Guinness will set you back more than a shilling these days, but the oldest pub in town (which is why the floor is wonky, it’s not the beer getting to you) is still worth a visit. There is a barmy myth that Robin Hood imbibed here (well, it did open in 1198). The nationalists certainly plotted rebellion here in the late 18th century, and Wolfe Tone and Michael Collins drank here (which is perhaps why the British almost did for it with their artillery in 1922). The memento-packed interior is crepuscular and cosy, and there is live music, too – best on Sunday afternoons. We can’t promise the likes of Van Morrison, Mary Black or Hothouse Flowers, who have played here in the past.

Remember the name: Podge Byrne and Steven Wilson are the bar managers.

Make mine a ... well, take a wild guess (£2.90 a pint).

On the soundtrack: Quare Things in Dublin by the Wolfe Tones (who have also played here).

Call me a cab: 20 Bridge Street (00 353 1 677 9549, www.brazenhead.com ).

PLANET CHAMPAGNE BAR, Cape Town

Normally, we disapprove of moving or destroying established bars, but the dark, heavily panelled Lord Nelson Bar at the Mount Nelson was beginning to seem tired, a crusty icon of another era. So the hotel decided to put something more contemporary in its place with the new and – not a word you would associate with this grande dame – sexy Planet Champagne Bar. It’s heavily mirrored (so the beautiful people can watch their reflected glory) with a black and white tiled floor and purple seats; heaven knows what previous guests Winston Churchill, Margaret Thatcher and George Bush Sr would think of it, but Robbie Williams, Kate Moss, Colin Farrell, Salma Hayek and others have certainly taken to it (Farrell reserved a table every night during his stay). There is also a wonderful garden terrace for enjoying the charms of other stars – those in the African night sky.

Remember the name: Benson is your man.

Make mine a ... stardust (citron vodka, peach schnapps, blue curacao, pineapple and grenadine, £2).

On the soundtrack: beats by Derek “The Bandit” Richardson.

Call me a cab: 76 Orange Street (00 27 21 483 10000, www.mountnelson.co.za ).