The Portrait Bar is located at the Fifth Avenue Hotel in downtown Manhattan. When I enter through the large wooden doors, New York’s noise leaves me, and as I sit down on the lavishly appointed burgundy velvet couch, I feel able to relax and sit with my thoughts for the first time since I arrived in NYC.
The first thing you notice is the abundance of portraits. There was a portrait of a man with a long face and neck, his nose covering part of his mustache behind me. Maria, my waitress for the evening, starts proceedings by pouring me a glass of still water and passing me a cuboid red-and-white-striped bucket with popcorn topped with butter and everything bagel seasoning. ‘Enjoy the show,’ she says before leaving me to take some time to scan the menu.
‘This place is great for people watching,’ my friend whispers knowingly to me, wearing an excited, ear-to-ear grin, like he’s trying to desperately keep a secret as he sinks into the generous burgundy velvet couch across from me. I gently put my menu down, puzzled why he’s whispering to me; ‘there’s nobody here,’ I think. Suddenly, a metallic, high-pitched yet dulled ring from the black-and-gold rotary phone sat on the bar oozes across the room.The bartender picks it up with a sense of automation. ‘It’s for you,’ he points to me. Confused still, I cautiously walk toward the phone. ‘Hello?’ I ask. ‘Who’s doing the watching?’ a deep-aged voice inquires through the earpiece.
The voice came from the wooden walls, from that old man with the face as long as a giraffe’s neck! I clutch a red-and-white-striped cuboid bucket with popcorn topped with butter and everything bagel seasoning—which makes a subtle impression at first, before the earthy and nutty taste nimbly sneaks up and ambushes your tastebuds to prevent criticism. As I graze on the morish little morsels, I look at my friend, resting the phone dial on my head, shrug my shoulders, and hold my bucket aloft to make sure each fine face on the paintings can see me, and announce to my new friend: “WE have the popcorn, so WE are doing the watching”, and hang up. Enjoy the show”, I tell my friend as I hand him our salty bounty chuckling to myself as we sit, letting the intimate and relaxing setting of the aptly named Portrait Bar wash over us.
The Portrait Bar, as the name suggests, boasts a veritable gallery on it walls. With 60 plus portraits spanning a range of eras, styles and mediums gazing upon an intimate décor with dark wood panelling, carved stone fireplace, and dimly-lit golden-honey lights, you not only feel like you are in a private living room, but the space captures a sense of New York City’s timeless and desirable energy that is felt, not intellectualised. ‘Ever since the city’s foundation as the colony in New Amsterdam, there was a population of less than 300 people, but at least 18 languages were already spoken’, Mike, the Portrait Bar’s Director tells me. ‘From the get-go, this was always a multilingual, multicultural city.’
Mike continues my crash course on New York City’s history: about how the British longed to take this city from the Dutch because it was the most strategic harbour in the North Atlantic, and how the British settlers, aside from changing the name of the city, left its unparalleled footprints as it was. The Portrait Bar invites you to take the time to breathe and slow down, to take in what it means to be in New York; the dimly lit lights and the portraits let your creativity and imagination push past its own horizon. Finally, it ensures the ageless foundations of the city remain in place while the city itself is locked in a perpetual cycle of evolution and change.
Some say that NYC is one of the loneliest cities in the world. But you don’t ever feel truly alone at The Portrait Bar; their octagonal tables practically guarantee any guest will make a new acquaintance. As I sip my first cocktail of the night, the Kolkata, someone from the table next to me invites me to sit with them. ‘What’s in the cocktail?’ they ask. ‘Bicardi Ocho, Smith & Cross rum, sotol, mango, coconut, almond, orange, Bombay Spice blend and a sprinkle of nutmeg on top.’ It’s the sort of cocktail that would certainly keep you refreshed and hydrated in a humid city like Kolkata, the perfect drink for enduring a record heatwave in the Big Apple. When my new friends learn of my Turkish background, they reply with words only a non-Turkish person would say to a local: merhaba nasılsın and teşekkür ederim, before informing me that that their Turkish friend was meant to join them that night. ‘Well, it looks like I took her place today!’ I reply gleefully.
My acquaintances invite me to join them to watch the Iran vs New Zealand game. I thank them but politely decline. I message my friend that I’m having a blast here and that he should come visit me instead of watching the World Cup game. Later, on my recommendation, my friend orders the tuna tartare, alongside the fried oysters resembling amber jewels and the classic prawn cocktail. When the peach-coloured, bulky, firm shrimps make their presence overt, my friend describes them with this culinary, half-time analysis: the shrimp was at game five of the NBA finals; mature shrimp; with [Jalen] Brunson at the gym training for the NBA finals over the summer. It’s what stored confidence in Brunson.
‘Wait, wait, wait, what did you say?!’ I reply, bewildered before turning to make an aside to my captive audience. ‘He’s so funny, isn’t he?!’ I tease him delighting the other guests as I play late night host at the bar. They laugh, nibbling on their popcorn, their laughter flowing like a Mexican wave, their eyes twinkling like stars in the unblemished night sky.The paintings on the wooden walls appear to sway happily from side to side, in gracious astonishment that the Knicks had won the 2026 NBA Finals for the first time since 1973. As the evening progresses, it seems like every table in the place has ordered the prawn cocktail. It’s as if each guest wants to hold on to this magical feeling… and they want to be in proximity to Jalen Brunson, albeit in shellfish form.
Creativity, narrative and storytelling are central tenets of The Portrait Bar, and it invites you to lose yourself; casual evening drinks lazily drift into a dream phase. Mike is something of a historian and a top-notch mixologist and when I ask him what drink he would make if there was a Turkish city on the menu, he forgoes the classic orientalist option ‘east meets west’. Instead, he ponders and proposes that he would probably go the market first and see what he would find there to soak in the odours, sounds, and tastes. As he explains to me the similarities of the Turkish Rakı with the Mexican Xtabentun, Iberian Aguardiente, Bulgarian Mastika, Greek Ouzo, an alarm clock sound in the background abruptly cuts off this intimate tutorial. ‘Sorry, I have to go,’ he explains politely. ‘I have a flight to Turkey I need to catch.’ ‘Oh, have fun,’ I tell him, as I stamp his passport and let him pass through the doors to go to the lively Fethiye market.
If you have a spare $195 to hand and are in the mood to celebrate, then you should indulge in the Royal Ossetra caviar served on a retro-futuristic caviar holder with baby-bear-warm potato croquettes, stacked like large Jenga pieces with garnishes of chives, crème fraiche and egg yolk rounding out the ensemble. The feeling of euphoria from the first bite has me feeling like I’m in danger of floating from my seat, like when the sun warms your shivering frame as you exit the waves fresh from a refreshing dip in the ocean. First, you get the soft saltiness of the caviar, while the crème fraiche blankets your mouth with a subtle coolness. Finally, you get the gently, nurturing warmth from the potato croquettes, all accompanied by the quiet growl from their crisp exterior and a faint snappiness from the crunch of the chives. I anticipate my last bite the second the caviar passes my lips and feel a pang of grief when it comes all too quickly. I try to resolve this feeling and savour this moment by trying to eat the rest of the caviar really slowly.
Each cocktail, or mocktail, at The Portrait Bar has its own story behind it. For dessert, I’d recommend the non-alcoholic Ramos Revival, curated by bartender Gonzalo Ramos, inspired when he made the Ramos Gin Fizz. Mr. Ramos felt personally inspired by the ritual, execution and history of the Ramos Gin Fizz. Furthermore, he felt a personal connection as the creator of the fizz, Hency C. Ramos, shares the same surname as him. The Ramos Revival is served on a coaster with art-deco inspired eyes, all simultaneously blinking like butterflies flapping their wings for the first time. It contains a rich Aplos Blend, Divino Blanco, yuzu, heavy cream, egg white, a house made rich syrup infused with an organic green pistachio puree aerated by nitrogen, and then topped with French bloom le blanc.
You are left with a pastel-yellow, light, airy drink; the meringue-like foam on top resembles a fluffy cloud you can jump on the first day of spring, and the drink itself reminiscent of a delightfully unctuous lemon curd. The subtle fizz from the French bloom keeps your senses awake.
You always feel in safe well-informed hands whilst at The Portrait Bar. Maria explained to me in detail the process of the Ramos Revival being made; her knowledge on each drink was phenomenal. Maria tells me she loves working here because it’s a place for growth and development and it gives you the tools to grow. It’s a place to gain a grounding in industry as well as a broad and enriching syllabus in all things culinary. Then she tells me about Mike; “what a guy, you have got meet him; he is so knowledgeable”. I looked at her and replied back: “but you are so knowledgeable”.
The night’s proceedings end and my friend and I polish off our last drinks. He had the Oaxaca—a fun play on the classic martini with hints of chocolate and I had the Marrakesh; a sour; the tastes of plum and smoked cinnamon transports me a palm tree swaying in the breeze by the burnt-amber Marrakesh walls.
I lose my bearings to time and place: where am I? who am I? what time is it? Time loses all meaning; there are no clocks in the walls of The Portrait Bar.
To find out more about The Portrait Bar, visit theportraitbar.com.
Review Sanem Alti
