Sometimes you go to a bar because it’s shiny and new.
Sometimes you go because you hear the mixologist shakes a mean bacon-and-jam martini. (You’ll be the judge of that.)
Then there are times when you just want a cold beer.
Especially when it’s 4am, nothing else is open and you happen to be at The Owl, opening next Saturday as your new after-hours perch in Logan Square.
This is the late-night place that you’ll turn to after you closed your other late-night place. A former dive bar, this spot has been upgraded to look... well, like a slightly newer dive bar.
Another way to say it: it looks like a ’70s singles bar for hipsters and insomniacs—and we mean that in the best way possible. The trendiest thing here is the long, curvaceous bar made from 100% “reclaimed wood”—i.e., they kept the previous bar—with a gurgling waterfall behind it.
There’s no mixology, but 20 draft lines pour a lot of local brews. There’s no kitchen, just a big binder of delivery menus (hopefully your cell still has juice at this point).
Still, we think you’ll like this bar. It feels like a place where random things just sort of happen. A hipster band starts jamming in the back. A DJ suddenly starts throwing down.
The sun rises.
Sometimes you go because you hear the mixologist shakes a mean bacon-and-jam martini. (You’ll be the judge of that.)
Then there are times when you just want a cold beer.
Especially when it’s 4am, nothing else is open and you happen to be at The Owl, opening next Saturday as your new after-hours perch in Logan Square.
This is the late-night place that you’ll turn to after you closed your other late-night place. A former dive bar, this spot has been upgraded to look... well, like a slightly newer dive bar.
Another way to say it: it looks like a ’70s singles bar for hipsters and insomniacs—and we mean that in the best way possible. The trendiest thing here is the long, curvaceous bar made from 100% “reclaimed wood”—i.e., they kept the previous bar—with a gurgling waterfall behind it.
There’s no mixology, but 20 draft lines pour a lot of local brews. There’s no kitchen, just a big binder of delivery menus (hopefully your cell still has juice at this point).
Still, we think you’ll like this bar. It feels like a place where random things just sort of happen. A hipster band starts jamming in the back. A DJ suddenly starts throwing down.
The sun rises.
