At 5:30 p.m. one Wednesday, I stopped by Sly Fox only to find the door locked, the lights off. Forlorn, I walked the busy streets of East Village, sat on a bench in Tompkins Square Park, listened to a girl describe seeing multiple rats frolicking in the park, watched a squirrel eat a napkin, then circled back to the bar with no luck. I stood near some plants in pots painted like the Ukrainian flag, cradling my phone as I searched for another potential hangout spot. Then, looking up, a wave of relief rolled over me. The Pabst sign in the window was miraculously lit, and someone had placed a sandwich board advertising the bar’s beer and shot combo near the open door. I pulled myself together, trying to look nonchalant, and walked in. The bar doesn’t open till 6 p.m., despite what Google may tell you (and is closed Sundays and Mondays).
Second Ave in Ukrainian East Village is lined with Instagrammable spots like Cafe Maude, but it’s old school spots like Paul’s Da Burger Joint and Sly Fox that impress due to their longevity and ability to transcend trends. According to one of the workers, Sly Fox has been around for about 70 years. Inside, it’s dark and a bit basement-like, with a wood veneer bar and booths lining the opposite wall. The ceiling is made up of mirror-like squares, and above the bar is a neon red sign that reads “Лис Миткита” (“Fox Mykyta” in English), the name of a fox from a Ukrainian fairy tale.
Inside the Ukrainian National Home that’s nestled next to Veselka, Sly Fox has long been the place to go when you’re looking for a drink alongside a giant plate of hearty Eastern European food. As one Google reviewer put it, “Don’t order wine here and you’ll be ok.” For $8, you can get a PBR and a well shot, a horseradish shot, or a Lvivske 1715—a light Ukrainian beer, if you’re trying to show your solidarity. But the food menu—oh, the food menu! I recommend the letcho (Hungarian goulash, best served alongside potato pancakes) or cheese blintzes (filled with sweet cheese, the crepe lightly crisped), but you can’t go wrong.
Applying makeup at the bar
Like all the best bars, Sly Fox accumulates a mix of people on any given night. One weekday evening, post-work coworkers filled the booths and an old man sat drinking a martini. Two young women also popped in, one choosing to apply a full face of makeup right at the bar. A young man arrived at the bar a bit hammered, looking for a bartender who he insisted was named Cordelia (the bartender on duty confirmed that no one by that name worked there). Put off, he started a conversation with me instead, calling me Peggy. It ended once he told me that he liked my “nice, thick legs.”
Another night, I spoke with a 77-year old patron as he finished off a beer and shot and waited for his lamb chops. His apartment is rent stabilized ($740.13), which has allowed him to enjoy Sly Fox for the past 50 years. Soon a friend of his, a sweet-tempered Albanian man, joined him, standing behind him as we spoke at the bar. The older man told me all about a younger woman who’d recently deceived him, pausing every few moments to pass a halušky (dumpling) over his shoulder to the Albanian, who’d take it off the fork into his bare hand and pop it into his mouth.
On my most recent visit, I happened in and was intrigued by how busy it was, filled mostly with young women donning micro-bangs, camo, and vintage clothing. I quickly learned that for the past couple of years, weekly line dancing classes, particularly popular with lesbians, had been offered in one of the rooms of the adjoining Ukrainian Cultural Center. That evening, though, was the final dance, as the Center will no longer be renting the space to the group.
Smoking a cigarette outside, one of the regulars patiently explained that she’d been coming here to dance every week since 2022, before which she’d only known Sly Fox as a dive bar. Now, though, she’d grown used to “stopping by, eating some food, dancing, and sweating for hours.” She didn’t want to say anything negative about the Center, despite being deeply saddened that she wouldn’t be dancing here again. She’d clearly come to love the bar: “My most joyful nights of the past three years have been here.”
When you look a little closer, even the most stalwart institutions change over time. Sly Fox’s drink specials and menu may stick around, but the crowd? Like the population of New York City itself, it’s likely to keep on churning.
