It’s an Irish pub somehow located in the interior plaza of a FiDi housing complex. The blinds are down; the red vinyl booths are empty. There’s an octagonal painting of the Twin Towers; Tiffany lampshades; a dim back room with stained glass windows; an ancient waiter who wears a suit; a horrific porcelain leprechaun. The wings are pretty good.One of the few bars in the vicinity to predate 9/11, Byrnes is a holdout against the mass extinction of normal places for normal people to get a drink in the city. For every haunt like Forlini’s that closes we’re treated to half a dozen new TikTok-bait establishments called, like, Ghosted & Fried that serve TUNA POKE WONTON TACOS and MEXICAN STREET CORN RAVIOLI (real menu items at Beauty & Essex) to Syracuse marketing majors in Allbirds. And don’t get me started on the neon signs…Even more insidious are the places like Bernie’s that mimic suburban taverns in order to sell homesick creative directors a plate of five mozzarella sticks for $17. Skip all that, go to Byrnes.
