Siberia Bar: NYC's Legendary Dive with Cheap Drinks

If You Knew Anthony Bourdain, You Know He Wasn't Looking for Velvet Ropes or Pristine Dining Rooms—He Was After Places with Stories, Characters, and Just the Right Amount of Chaos. And in New York City, few spots captured that spirit better than Siberia.

Siberia Bar: A Defiant Relic of Bourdain's Gritty New York

Tucked inside the 1/9 subway station in Hell's Kitchen during its heyday, the bar was both a post-last-call refuge and a full-blown fever dream: plastic cups of beer, a jukebox humming The Velvet Underground, and a rotating cast of chefs, strippers, journalists, and night owls who had no intention of calling it quits early.

As Bourdain once put it: one drink in, and he was done—"I'm not going anywhere."

Siberia first opened in 1996 in a former video rental store, was later forced out by the landlord, and unceremoniously shut its doors in 2001. It briefly reopened a few blocks away on Ninth Avenue, only to close again in 2007.

Now, nearly two decades after its last hurrah, Siberia—Bourdain's self-proclaimed "favorite bar on Earth"—is back.

Yes, that Siberia: the notorious, grungy dive where anything went, where all kinds of New Yorkers converged, where Jimmy Fallon was a regular in his SNL days after the show, and where the night could spiral in any direction.

These days, the bar is tucked inside the Turnstyle Underground Market at Columbus Circle.

It's still as compact as ever: a 70-square-meter space with eight bar stools, a 2.5-meter bar, and ceilings just 3.5 meters high. There's no bathroom on-site—patrons use Turnstyle's shared restrooms elsewhere, accessed via a code.

But that stripped-down setup is part of the charm—along with the signature crimson lighting that bathes the space in its unmistakable glow.

It's cash-only, but you won't need much. Tracy Westmoreland, the bar's original owner (who also calls himself the "Minister of Propaganda"), keeps drinks cheaper than nearby bars and hires people he knows and trusts, not polished mixologists.

The soundtrack hasn't strayed far from the original either—still leaning toward punk, rock, outlaw country, and pop-punk, though the nicotine-stained jukebox (once stocked with some of Bourdain's own CDs) has been replaced by a TouchTunes setup.

There are a few house rules: no politics, no weird snorters, and no fruit in cocktails. As Westmoreland puts it, Siberia is meant to welcome everyone—so long as they're respectful.

After years of being remembered as one of New York's most legendary dives, Siberia's return feels like a reminder that in this city, even the most chaotic places never really disappear—they just bide their time until the right moment to resurface.

Bourdain once described the scene like this: