Duffy's Tavern
Walking into Duffy's Tavern is like entering some kind of marvelous Twilight Zone, where the whole place seems able to transform, to transcend time and space, according to the whims of the computerized jukebox that rests unobtrusively against a wall near the bar. According to owner Wayne Russell, the box is stocked with about 2000 songs. "Some I like, some I don't like. But mostly rock," he explains. An obscure track from Metallica's thrash classic Kill 'Em All segues into a disconcertingly jaunty ode to the Emerald Isle, "Irish Jaunting Car," by Leo McCaffrey. The regulars don't bat an eye, and looking around at the Irish collectibles -- the ceaseless digital countdown to St. Patrick's Day, the Guinness brewerania, and shillelaghs (knobby Irish walking sticks dangling from the ceiling amid ornate steins and ancient beer bottles) -- the jig feels oddly appropriate. After a moment of rest -- chatter, the clink of glasses, and the shouting of sports announcers from twenty TV sets filling the void -- the opening strains of Led Zeppelin's "Goin' to California" twinkle in the background. The bartender brings you another ale, the customers continue on their individual journeys to pleasant intoxication, and Zeppelin flows into Aretha Franklin's shimmering soul song "Ain't No Way." Way.

Readers´ Choice: Fox´s Sherron Inn

Walking into Duffy's Tavern is like entering some kind of marvelous Twilight Zone, where the whole place seems able to transform, to transcend time and space, according to the whims of the computerized jukebox that rests unobtrusively against a wall near the bar. According to owner Wayne Russell, the box is stocked with about 2000 songs. "Some I like, some I don't like. But mostly rock," he explains. An obscure track from Metallica's thrash classic Kill 'Em All segues into a disconcertingly jaunty ode to the Emerald Isle, "Irish Jaunting Car," by Leo McCaffrey. The regulars don't bat an eye, and looking around at the Irish collectibles -- the ceaseless digital countdown to St. Patrick's Day, the Guinness brewerania, and shillelaghs (knobby Irish walking sticks dangling from the ceiling amid ornate steins and ancient beer bottles) -- the jig feels oddly appropriate. After a moment of rest -- chatter, the clink of glasses, and the shouting of sports announcers from twenty TV sets filling the void -- the opening strains of Led Zeppelin's "Goin' to California" twinkle in the background. The bartender brings you another ale, the customers continue on their individual journeys to pleasant intoxication, and Zeppelin flows into Aretha Franklin's shimmering soul song "Ain't No Way." Way.

Readers´ Choice: Fox´s Sherron Inn

Keg South of Homestead
From the truly pickled to neighborhood families, denizens of the southern stretch from Naranja to Homestead partake in pitchers and wings and fresh fish fillets daily at Keg South. The bar serves exclusively beer and wine, and the most exotic brew on tap is Heineken, but all mugs of beer cost only two dollars. The place can get crowded on weekends and at dinnertime, a sure sign they're doing something right in the kitchen (food comes nestled in wax paper inside plastic baskets -- try the fried green tomato appetizer for five dollars or the excellent seven-dollar burger platters). Regular old-timers sit at the bar and on wood benches every afternoon, some of them shooting pool and playing sad old country songs on the jukebox.

Readers´ Choice: Fox´s Sherron Inn

From the truly pickled to neighborhood families, denizens of the southern stretch from Naranja to Homestead partake in pitchers and wings and fresh fish fillets daily at Keg South. The bar serves exclusively beer and wine, and the most exotic brew on tap is Heineken, but all mugs of beer cost only two dollars. The place can get crowded on weekends and at dinnertime, a sure sign they're doing something right in the kitchen (food comes nestled in wax paper inside plastic baskets -- try the fried green tomato appetizer for five dollars or the excellent seven-dollar burger platters). Regular old-timers sit at the bar and on wood benches every afternoon, some of them shooting pool and playing sad old country songs on the jukebox.

Readers´ Choice: Fox´s Sherron Inn

The Bar
The Bar is the best of both bar worlds. Dark and cool even at midday and absolutely shadowed at night, it's a great place to drown sorrow or joy in a shot glass of bourbon accompanied by one of the Bar's many boutique beers. But Giralda Avenue is in Coral Gables, after all, and if you're going to have an establishment there, you might as well give the rich folk something to throw their cash at. The Bar's food is bar food, but not of the microwaved-mozzarella-stick variety. It is inexpensive enough for the budget-conscious drinker and fine enough for the discerning bourgeois palate. Chicken tenders, for instance, are strips of chicken breast dipped in a homemade spicy breading and deep fried until crisp. They taste a lot like homemade fried chicken and absolutely nothing like the warmed-over, limp fingers that most bars serve, and you get a plateful (between four and six strips usually) for six bucks. The six-dollar burgers are a steal as well -- juicy lumps of high-quality meat actually cooked to order (as opposed to many bars, where the waitress politely asks how you'd like your burger cooked and returns with something akin to a blackened-carbon sandwich) and dressed any way you like. The eight-dollar steak sandwich -- a healthy slab of grilled London broil topped with melted provolone on a hunk of French bread -- couldn't be better. The menu is pretty extensive, with plenty of sandwich and salad options and the requisite bar-food appetizers, all of them better than you're likely to find at your neighborhood watering hole.

The Bar is the best of both bar worlds. Dark and cool even at midday and absolutely shadowed at night, it's a great place to drown sorrow or joy in a shot glass of bourbon accompanied by one of the Bar's many boutique beers. But Giralda Avenue is in Coral Gables, after all, and if you're going to have an establishment there, you might as well give the rich folk something to throw their cash at. The Bar's food is bar food, but not of the microwaved-mozzarella-stick variety. It is inexpensive enough for the budget-conscious drinker and fine enough for the discerning bourgeois palate. Chicken tenders, for instance, are strips of chicken breast dipped in a homemade spicy breading and deep fried until crisp. They taste a lot like homemade fried chicken and absolutely nothing like the warmed-over, limp fingers that most bars serve, and you get a plateful (between four and six strips usually) for six bucks. The six-dollar burgers are a steal as well -- juicy lumps of high-quality meat actually cooked to order (as opposed to many bars, where the waitress politely asks how you'd like your burger cooked and returns with something akin to a blackened-carbon sandwich) and dressed any way you like. The eight-dollar steak sandwich -- a healthy slab of grilled London broil topped with melted provolone on a hunk of French bread -- couldn't be better. The menu is pretty extensive, with plenty of sandwich and salad options and the requisite bar-food appetizers, all of them better than you're likely to find at your neighborhood watering hole.

The best VIP rooms are exclusive, far removed from the peasants, and exude cool at all times. In the middle of the unending mayhem here stands a big yellow school bus that serves as the presidential suite, and it meets all of the above criteria. It's functional too. The bus windows are well within eyeshot of promoter Josh Menendez as he does his thing, and from the safety of the school zone, you can look down upon the peons as they become endlessly intertwined with each other. On any given Revolver Friday, the club becomes jammed with party people, becoming so cramped that unless you have the clout to hitch a ride on the bus, you'll be spilling drinks, or having drinks spilled on you, all night. But if you're a true playa who's literally on the bus, it's nothing but fine tablecloths, mood lighting, and champagne, baby.

The best VIP rooms are exclusive, far removed from the peasants, and exude cool at all times. In the middle of the unending mayhem here stands a big yellow school bus that serves as the presidential suite, and it meets all of the above criteria. It's functional too. The bus windows are well within eyeshot of promoter Josh Menendez as he does his thing, and from the safety of the school zone, you can look down upon the peons as they become endlessly intertwined with each other. On any given Revolver Friday, the club becomes jammed with party people, becoming so cramped that unless you have the clout to hitch a ride on the bus, you'll be spilling drinks, or having drinks spilled on you, all night. But if you're a true playa who's literally on the bus, it's nothing but fine tablecloths, mood lighting, and champagne, baby.

Thirty well-kept professional-size tables, fair drink prices, an excellent jukebox, and low prices -- $10 per hour (for the table, not per person) for two players, $12 per hour for three -- are all good reasons to shoot stick at this FIU-adjacent pool hall. Where most places either have cheap prices and terrible equipment (ripped felt, bent cues) or top-notch equipment accompanied by outrageous prices, New Wave strikes the right balance. Plus you can watch the viejos shoot true billiards on the six pocketless tables in the center of the room.

New Wave Billiards
Thirty well-kept professional-size tables, fair drink prices, an excellent jukebox, and low prices -- $10 per hour (for the table, not per person) for two players, $12 per hour for three -- are all good reasons to shoot stick at this FIU-adjacent pool hall. Where most places either have cheap prices and terrible equipment (ripped felt, bent cues) or top-notch equipment accompanied by outrageous prices, New Wave strikes the right balance. Plus you can watch the viejos shoot true billiards on the six pocketless tables in the center of the room.

Best Of Miami®

Best Of Miami®