No, seriously. Johnny is undoubtedly the smallest, oldest and most Yugoslavian bartender in the entire city (and that includes the Yugoslavian part, uh, if one exists). He also refuses, with his full head of spiky, white hair, to let anyone else bartend at Johnny's Tavern, and he bartends 365 days out of the year … very, very slowly. It's for all these reasons and more that we adore the old man and wish he starred in a sequel to “Grumpier Old Men,” all by himself.

Besides the wonderful, almost century-old bartender whose name does not adorn the old "Hamm's" sign outside, this Tavern is a dive bar through and through (more dive, in fact, than bar). Dive bar freaks take note: Don't come for the decor, come for the authenticity, the crazy conversation, the remnants of a once smoky haze, the great beer selection and the legendary atmosphere pervading every inch of the incredibly small space. The music selection is ancient, no more recent than the 1980s, and so are the beer signs that line the brown and ravaged walls.

Come for the stories, the man, the dive-ness of the place (if that's what you're into), but don't expect the spotlessness of a martini bar at the Hilton. High class comfort, this is not. You'll realize that right away when you have to be buzzed in because the door is locked.

Centerstage Reviewer: Benjamin Andrew Moore