Glamour underground 🍽

Bar Thirty Three excels on style, adhering to a dress code, pushing the boundaries of local cocktail prices and risking pretension

Photos by Matthew Schniper.

Bar Thirty Three is incontrovertibly a beautiful space, easily the most opulent spirit lounge in town.

Owner Joel McVay personally designed the space over the course of many months just as he would craft a cocktail. Meticulously, thoughtfully, outwardly obsessive about tiny details. When I met with him before opening, back in mid December, 2023, the former bartender-turned-finance guy spoke of a place “treated with care, love and passion.” He toured me around to admire luxurious wallpapers, fine glassware, seating upholstery and ornate Edison bulbs.

He spoke of putting guests at ease in a special environment, but also encouraging guests to “dress like you give a fuck.” Actually, he mandated it. As much as he was setting a standard of excellence at his bar, he was signaling to the public what he expected from them in return. We are, after all, in a town where some people are as likely to wear what they do to King Soopers to a Philharmonic concert. After all: it’s his place, he can set the tone he desires, and what’s the harm in inspiring people to look their best on the town? You don’t like it? Then there’s dozens of other bars nearby downtown happy for your dollar.

It’s worth mentioning they do offer to host guests not meeting the dress code in the small entryway bar upstairs, where cocktails are limited to the classics. A home-style espresso machine comes in handy for drinks like an off-menu Carajillo, which we’ve become obsessed with and later order from downstairs.

In speaking with people in and outside the industry since my initial writeup printed and over the past several months, I’ve heard several people bristle over the online dress code as if insulted before contemplating going. Some chuckled at the prohibited “Netflix & Chill outfits” or “intentionally ‘sagging’ pants” and “exposed boxers/briefs ‘below the belt.’” The list in-part recommends tailored shirts, crisp jeans, sport coats and even turtle necks. (I haven’t seen one of those in action in a while.) “Bottom line, this isn't a sweatpants and hoodie bar. We want you to put on a cute outfit and show off. You deserve it!” is what is says in closing. [Editor’s note: Since this article originally published on June 3, the online code has been updated and simplified here.]

So, for a friend’s birthday earlier in May, as part of his night on the town, we showed up as a group of 10 (eight before us, as my partner and I ran a little late), respectfully dressed in cocktail dresses and full suits; some of the guys even wore ties. One thing we quickly noticed during our stay (roughly between 7:30 and 10 p.m.) was how many folks seemingly slipped through the cracks on attire policing. We saw several ball caps (not technically on the no-no list, unless they’re implicitly categorized under “hangover clothes” or “athleisure”), basic jeans, T-shirts under puffy jackets, and less than shiny sneakers. Personally, it didn’t bother me, because I want everyone to enjoy their night out comfortably too, but it did make me think of how many awkward conversations the staff must be having with patrons on the line of the code or outright skirting it — having to enforce while hopefully not offend.

Back to feedback I’ve gleaned casually from others, more than once I’ve heard the words “arrogant” and “pretentious.” And I suspect that in some way it gets back to the root factor of Americans being Americans with a “don’t tell me what to do” attitude that’s maybe less Gadsden Flag “don’t tread on me” and more laissez-faire “just let me be.” Let me spend my fucks where I so choose.

Anyway — and I promise I’m about done talking about the dress code and ready to move onto drinks — what surprised us more than how some of our fellow drinkers were dressed was how some of the staff had appointed themselves as the emissaries and ambassadors of said stylish establishment. Our industry friend Regan Capozzella (relocated from the closed Lee Spirits Co./Brooklyn’s) was professionally dressed and looked the part, and a couple other cocktail servers had all-blacks on in a ubiquitous uniform way. But one gentleman stood out — and I do hate to call him out because he gave excellent service, was friendly and attentive as hell and should absolutely be retained for customer-loyalty-building. He was wearing a retro ’80s-style, long sleeve, solid color, lapel neck shirt that’s something of a rugby shirt or the Izod Lacoste polo shirts with the crocodile logo over the chest that I recall from childhood. Nothing really formal, with basic pants (maybe slim jeans) and street shoes if memory serves on the rest of his outfit. For a moment, I found myself jokingly thinking “well if you don’t adhere to your code, why should we?” It’s a miscue.

Regan Capozzella behind the bar.

Moving onto the ambiance: again, it’s a gorgeous space to sip a drink, as established. My only potentially useful note would be for those seeking a quiet conversation bar, the wide, boxy, subterranean room got fairly loud when not even at capacity, forcing us to raise our voices amongst our group to be heard. That causes somewhat of an escalating arms race of others leveling-up their volume in their groups. I could have done without the shrill, dolphin-laughing lady two tables over who was apparently hearing the best jokes or anecdotes ever, but that’s not on Bar Thirty Three. And some people love the energy of a noisy spot to heighten a buzz, a din and background static they can disappear into.

To the food: Bar Thirty Three serves a small bites menu procured from Ambli Global, an established fine dining spot whose general excellence matches what this bar’s going for. Birthday boy and crew had already dined elsewhere, as had we, so I didn’t delve into the eats this night. I’m presuming they’re simple enough (to execute in this model) and good, and have heard nothing otherwise from town feedback.

To the cocktails: Given our group size and at least a couple of rounds between most couples, we make our way through much of the launching menu, which will sunset on June 20 to match summer solstice. (Again with the intentionality.) Expect quarterly changeovers on solstices and equinoxes with near-complete overhauls save for a “returning favorites” section. The theme of this current menu is “Time for; Time With” and you can read about the significance and format of that on the first few pages, which break sections into alcohol-free drinks, slow-sippers, higher-ABV cocktails and some catch-all crowd pleasers.

“This menu we stuck with the traditional ‘bold and boozy, light and refreshing, well balanced’ structure,” manager/bartender Lazlo Steele later tells me. “Going forward I'd like us to anchor deeper into the theme and have more unusual menu section logic. For the upcoming menu we are playing with ‘jungle’ and so will be looking at doing sections along the lines of ‘predator and prey,’ ‘birds of paradise’ and ‘forest floor,’ which will be unified by aspects aside from the cocktail family.” 

I get sips of several other drinks (there’s no cooties among friends) and we evaluate flavors based off the detailed menu descriptions, which include credits to the bartenders who created them plus full ingredients and little guidance notes, such as “this cocktail re-casts scotch alongside deep tannic berrys [sic] in an all-out romance of the senses.” I order my own Tan Says “No,” which is an all-spirit blend of Gran Centenario añejo tequila, rye whiskey, Braulio (an amaro), Becherovka (one of my favorite herbal liqueurs, enjoyed from many visits to Czech Republic) and Absinthe. If you’re a spirit-forward cocktail drinker, this one’s for you, “bold and boozy” as part of its description says. Everything’s in proper balance and it finishes with layered herbal/botanical complexity.

To counterbalance all that alcohol, we order a whole-staff-created mocktail alongside it: the Unapologetic Old Fashion, made with Three Spirit Nightcap (a multi-ingredient elixir with everything from ashwagandha and valerian root to Sichuan pepper and hops), palo santo-smoked vanilla and an oolong tincture. It amounts to an enjoyable, unique flavor I haven’t experienced before, with a little tannic edge and touch of sweetness (from the NA spirit’s maple ingredient). I don’t perceive as much if any of the palo santo as I’d hoped when reading it, because that’s one of the most magical (and sacred to some) smells in the world, in my book. (I have some sticks at home I burn sometimes like incense.) I will say it arrives with probably the coolest damn ice pattern I’ve seen: tight, wavy lines frozen into a large cube. (And you thought making perfect oversized spheres was a pain in the ass.)

From sips off other drinks and some conferring I glean general contentment and a couple of highlights but no major wow moments. Like, yeah, they’re roundly good cocktails and fun to try. But some smack a little overly convoluted without all the listed ingredients really coming through at full expression. Which is to say maybe not ideally balanced or conceived. Another bartender I later talk to posits the somewhat obvious opinion that everything listed on cocktail menus should at least be perceived: “It can’t be the ‘k’ in ‘knife’ — silent,” he says. (I promised to steal that one, and now I have, so there.) There’s a frustration inherent to being lured in but finding a flavor absent, and a bit of a cognitive dissonance when tasting something different to what you’re reading. Case in point (from my now month-old notes) is the Captain, Dr. Captain which lists añejo, chai, almond, tequila-orange foam and pomegranate, but has a deceptive apple aroma and finishes predominantly with the tart pomegranate and less than expected spice.

This brings me to the important topic of price, because that Captain, Dr. Captain is a $20 cocktail, from a menu that ranges down to $13 but averages around $17. At $20, I want to see something flawless and memorable and justified compared with a great $12-$15 cocktail to be found easily at the handful of the Springs’ best cocktail bars. At this price, Bar Thirty Three places itself in league with high-end spots like Lumen8 ($14-$19 drinks), it’s collaborator Ambli ($16-$19) and Summit at the Broadmoor ($23 across the board). Two of those are hotels so you expect the markup, and mocktails don’t surpass $12 at any of them (that I can find), though in fairness their mocktails are less creative than at Bar Thirty Three, where they’ve been priced from $13 to $16. That feels high given each is made with a Three Spirit NA spirit and one to two additional touches. I do understand that procuring some of the NA spirits in small quantities compared to bulk ordering real hooch from purveyors can amount to similar cost sans alcohol, and that the labor to make and shake a drink factors in all the same. But even then, a bar is combatting optics and what the market will bear.

Back to my convos with others, the word “overpriced” has certainly come up and there’s a perception that drinks have been set at a rate commensurate to the setting — like, because this is swank, you’re gonna pay more to sit here. That would be unfair to level at McVay and team without hearing from them about it, so I take advantage of my text correspondence with Lazlo Steele to ask him about it. He takes it head-on.

“Our base products are generally a step above most other craft bars,” he says. “Our well products start around the level of most bars’ mid-shelf and we are not afraid of using expensive ingredients if they are right for the cocktail. Based on typical bar margins, there are actually four current cocktails, a handful of spirits (plus the entirety of our beer and wine program) that is discounted heavily off of the price we should be charging, because we want people to be able to access those items.”

He also notes how there’s always a $5 pint of beer available plus a $5 shot, approachable to anyone. “We try to strike the balance,” he says. “We don't charge what we do because ‘we can’ or because of the decor. It's a mix of the labor price and the product price primarily.” He concludes by saying “I believe in providing exceptional value, especially if the price is elevated.”

I think back to my original conversation with McVay prior to his opening and how he mentioned a longer-term goal of building his own hospitality brand, curating bars inside boutique hotels. Viewed through that lens, almost as a template, Bar Thirty Three makes sense as a fastidiously designed space already priced for just such a setting — à la my prior comparisons to two hotels and a luxury fine dining restaurant. In somewhat of a self-check, I wonder if I would feel differently about it if I came upon it during travel in another city, when the adventurous spirit of being on the road would be more present in my mindset. Would I be less questioning of the prices then?

Ultimately, the perception of value, to Steele’s point, relies on the cocktail game being strong enough to carry the day — to justify heading here versus The Archives, Tipperary, District Elleven or one of the other bars like Cork & Cask who showed strong at the recent Rooftop Invitational bartender battle at Lumen8. There’s a lot of spots to grab a great cocktail downtown (for a few bucks less) and I feel comfortable ranking Bar Thirty Three among them, with a talented bartender staff, but not first in the queue nor notably head-and-shoulders above everyone else.

I’ll give Bar Thirty Three a design award out of the gate, and kudos for trying to inspire people to dress up to make a regular evening more special. (James Proby of The Men’s Xchange certainly would approve.) But I think some more seasons need to pass — more Time for; Time With, if you will — for Bar Thirty Three to prove itself with not just creative, but consistently outstanding cocktails to match the pricing.

Birthday boy in a forest of friends.