The 82 Best Speakeasies in the United States

A red mirrored hallway leads you down into this speakeasy-style cocktail lounge beneath a north Scottsdale restaurant, which is exactly the kind of entrance that makes people feel they've earned their drink. Inside, gold ceilings, red velvet drapes, and live music set a mood that commits fully to the bit. The cocktails lean sweet-and-savory strange, and small bites keep the evening going. Phoenix New Times named it Best Bar in 2025.

Standby is a cocktail bar you reach by ducking down the Belt Alley and heaving open a pair of ponderous doors, which makes ordering a martini feel like a minor heist. The menu sorts drinks by mood, from "Purist" to "Certified Bangers," so nobody has to explain themselves to a bartender. Matty Matheson of The Bear built the food menu. It's dim, polished, and worth a Resy booking.

The building's previous life as a massage parlor is part of the lore here, and Midnight Cowboy leans into it: press the Harry Craddock buzzer at the unmarked Sixth Street door, then slip into a dark booth for cocktails built around a mystery and spirituality theme. It's a reservation-first speakeasy, intimate by design, with a menu deep enough to require genuine deliberation. Food & Wine named it one of the top bars in the US.

A donkey illustration on an easy-to-miss door inside the Cosmopolitan's Block 16 Food Hall is all the signage this dimly lit agave bar bothers with. Red string lights, floral murals, and a serious list of tequilas and mezcals fill the rest of the room. The nachos come loaded with toppings that make you look twice at the menu. Time Out named it one of the best bars in Las Vegas, which feels about right for somewhere this committed to being hard to find.

Old Glory is a candlelit cocktail bar in a former industrial steam plant, where the old boiler still sits in the corner and a coal hopper hangs overhead like a very heavy chandelier. Weeknights are quiet and date-friendly, while weekends turn the floor into a dance party. The drinks are spirit-forward, and the monthly lineup of drag, circus acts, and jazz nights suggests the boiler has seen weirder things than you.

To get into this speakeasy cocktail bar inside the Horseshoe, you pick up a phone, answer a riddle, and crawl through an entrance. The bar itself looks like a haunted Victorian study, shelves packed with odd artifacts and enough atmosphere to make you forget you're technically in a casino basement. Cocktails run strong and strange, and there's a dedicated mixology classroom if you want to learn why your drink tastes like that.

Evening Bar is a hotel cocktail bar tucked off Parker's Alley, and you find the door by looking for the one with eyes painted on it, which feels like being watched by your own bad decisions. Inside it's small and amber-lit, with a short menu of cocktails, beer, and wine, plus a bell-pepper tequila drink and a few zero-proof options. Food & Wine put it on a 2025 list of the top hotel bars in the US.

You find it in a basement beneath an alleyway off 6th Street, which is all part of the point. Here Nor There is a speakeasy cocktail bar where the menu rotates around a high concept, past themes like color theory and global exploration, with drinks that take real kitchen-level prep to pull off. Exposed brick, dim lighting, and enough tucked-away corners to make the chaos of Dirty Sixth feel very far away.

This is a velvet-draped, 1920s-style cocktail parlor, reached by slipping behind the doughnut stand inside Aria's food hall, which is about as speakeasy as a doughnut counter can make you feel. Live jazz fills the room most nights, and the drinks arrive with props: mushroom-shaped glasses on a mossy board, a Manhattan in a cigar box. Dress for a date, and bring someone who won't mind sharing the dry ice.

A lone clothespin near the door is the only sign you're in the right place. This 22-seat speakeasy inside Commonwealth runs on cryptic reservation clues, a red light for walk-ins, and a ceiling lined with antique doors staring down at you. The cocktail menu here doesn't overlap with what the main bar pours, and the vintage Hollywood portraits on the walls set a mood that takes itself seriously, which the drinks earn the right to match.

You ring an unmarked bell on an unmarked door below street level, and that's the whole game announced before you've ordered a drink. Inside, this cocktail bar in Chelsea is all deep armchairs, shaded lamps, a fireplace, and curtained alcoves fitted with a buzzer to summon your server when you're ready. It's a speakeasy setup done without irony, and the room is quiet enough that people actually talk to each other.

A compact caviar and seafood bar just off the Caesars Palace casino floor, where Pringles arrive with caviar French onion dip and nobody blinks. The real trick is a life-sized portrait of a sailing captain that swings open onto a purple-and-turquoise room with a stage, hosting yacht rock nights and karaoke. Expect smoked Old Fashioneds, espresso martinis, and strangers committing to "I Will Always Love You."

The entrance is a walk-in freezer at the back of a Downtown ice cream shop, which is the kind of plot twist a Las Vegas cocktail bar can get away with. On the other side is an Old Hollywood-style hideaway serving movie-themed drinks, some arriving in milk pint glasses. You can also roll a pair of dice and let the bartenders improvise around your fate. Dress for a drink, not a sundae.

Past a door that makes very little effort to hide, this cave-like cocktail bar sits behind a taco spot in a busy Chinatown plaza. The drinks lean loud: tequila infused with Flamin' Hot Cheetos, mezcal with chamoy, a margarita lightened with a splash of Corona. The kitchen next door keeps the snacks coming, birria ramen included, so nobody has to leave the cave hungry.

The Underground is a Prohibition-themed speakeasy tucked beneath the Mob Museum, and yes, there's a daily password, which the museum's website will hand over to anyone who asks nicely. The brick walls double as a 1920s exhibit hall, with flapper outfits and a cocktail kit hidden in a briefcase. It also runs its own working moonshine distillery, so the bootlegging is technically legal, which is the one disappointing part.

Wax Rabbit is a speakeasy tucked behind a tequila cellar at the Durango resort, and getting in means finding the right miniature rabbit among the many on display and pulling it like a lever. Past the door, everything is red, a DJ spins vinyl from blues to 2000s throwbacks, and the guava-and-strega Hidden Passion arrives in a pineapple-shaped glass. Eater and The Infatuation both keep it on their hidden-bar lists.

Willow is a basement cocktail bar tucked beneath Savannah Blue, where a giant faux willow tree rises from the floor and sends its branches, strung with hundreds of fairy lights, across the ceiling. It's Detroit's first Black-owned speakeasy, with portraits of famous Black Detroiters on the walls and a Southern-leaning drink list. Reservations run through Tock, so plan ahead for the secret.

Case Chocolates is a speakeasy hidden behind a bookcase in the back of a tiny East End chocolate shop, which is the kind of sentence that should be illegal in a Wes Anderson film but is merely a Tuesday here. The tasting runs three courses of chocolates filled with spirits like gin and carajillo, and the liquor stays polite about it. It's a date-night bet for people who've already done dinner and a movie.

You get in through Crust Pizzeria next door or a utility door out back, which is exactly the kind of entrance a plush Scottsdale speakeasy deserves. Inside, the cocktail list runs from an 1870s Martinez and the hard-to-find Clover Club to moody modern signatures built around bourbon, amaro, and pistachio orgeat. It's part of a small family of animal-named bars, and the Goose is the one that makes you forget you're in a strip mall.

A red light over an unmarked alley door is the only sign you've found the right place. The Branca Room is a speakeasy-style Argentine cocktail bar tucked behind Chimichurri Bistro in Bishop Arts, lit by crystal chandeliers and hung with Argentine art. The drinks lean into amaro and vermouth, and the cocktail menu has a sense of theater, one arrives in an IV bag.

Getting into this off-Strip speakeasy means ringing a football, which feels like a sentence from a fever dream, and then supplying a password you only get by booking ahead. A host in a vest and flat cap works the room while jazz singers handle the stage, and you can request an unlikely cover from the lounge. It's an Italian steakhouse in costume, so the red leather booths fill up with tourists.

A daisy painted on the facade of what looks like a converted lobby is all the sign you get, so consider this your heads-up. Daisy Lounge is a speakeasy tucked into a Circle C Ranch strip mall, far from the usual Downtown clusters, with built-in bookshelves, armchairs, and a multi-floor floral interior that reads more cozy library than hidden bar. The cocktail menu runs classics alongside house originals. Book ahead.

Dark Arts is a cocktail lounge hidden behind the fireplace at Grey Witch, which means you enter by walking past some LED flames like a very polite arsonist. Inside is a hunting lodge gone gothic, with animal bones, tarot art, and dried wildflowers. The drinks lean on warming spices and herbs, and there's a deep tobacco list. It's only open a few nights a week, so check Instagram before you go knocking on hearths.

Getting in means walking through a brightly lit sundry shop that sells newspapers and cherry blossom Kit Kats, then pushing a bookcase that leans inward to reveal a dim cocktail bar. Red lanterns glow overhead, neon tigers face off above leather booths, and the Japanese whiskey list rewards lingering. It sits in the Resorts World food hall, so expect conventioneers feeling very clever.

The bar at London Chop House sits underground in the Financial District, dimly lit enough that you'll swear it's still 1985 and someone's about to close a deal on a handshake. It's a proper cocktail bar with martinis, gimlets, and Negronis that nudge the classics sideways, plus a cigar and billiards room attached. Dress like you have an expense account, even if the ghosts of the three-martini lunch are the only ones who do.

The unmarked door is the whole point. Tucked behind the sushi counter at the Venetian, this speakeasy bar keeps a low profile by design, with a full bar, ube espresso martinis, and snacks that skew sharper than the hand rolls out front. Convention-goers grabbing a boxed set to-go have no idea it's back there, which is more or less how the regulars prefer it.

A speakeasy above a pho shop is a concept that earns its own zip code, and Phocific Standard Time delivers on the premise. The Vietnamese coffee martini has become a reason people climb the stairs specifically, but the bar snacks, caramelized crab dip with sesame saltines among them, make lingering easy. Named one of The Infatuation's most fun Seattle bars, it's a cocktail bar that happens to pair very well with whatever you just had downstairs.

They take your phone at the door, lock it away, and mean it. Hidden behind a casual sandwich cafe downtown, Powder Room is an art deco speakeasy where table service and reservations are both required, which sets the tone. Cocktails run from light and herbal to firmly stirred, and the menu is organized by mood rather than spirit. A good place to be present, as they say, whether you planned that or not.

Secret Pizza is a counter slice shop on the third floor of the Cosmopolitan, reached by a hallway of Rat Pack-era record sleeves that makes the whole thing feel like a bit. The secret got out years ago. Now it's a New York-style slice reheated until it could laminate your fingers, handed over by a quick-moving crew to bleary-eyed clubgoers who eat standing up in a tiny square room or carry it off into the night.

Shelby is a basement cocktail bar in the Financial District, where finding the door is the first round of the evening. Downstairs, the drinks run from a proper espresso martini to a pineapple Averna negroni riff, backed by shared plates like beef tartare and a mushroom dish that politely impersonates escargot. It was a James Beard semifinalist for outstanding bar program. Book on Resy so you only get lost once.

Side Hustle Lounge is a cocktail bar tucked into the Belt Alley, next door to its partner restaurant Mootz Pizza, and it skips the 1920s speakeasy costume for midcentury modern with a retro Vegas streak. The drinks run bright, sometimes electric, with a Detroit lean, like the Detroit Sour's red wine float. Pizza from Mootz arrives alongside, so it's grandpa's basement, if grandpa had a much better bar.

The bar is in the basement, which is the point. The Drifter is a tiny subterranean cocktail lounge tucked beneath the Green Door Tavern, a speakeasy in the old sense of the word, not just the aesthetic. Low ceilings, dim light, and the general feeling that you've wandered somewhere you weren't supposed to find. The kind of place where a well-made drink tastes better simply because you had to descend a staircase to get it.

The entrance is a gated alley door with a buzzer, which already tells you something about the evening ahead. Trona is a speakeasy cocktail bar in Central East Austin that draws equally from Mexico and Japan, so mezcal and tequila share the back bar with Japanese whisky. The space runs narrow with a small patio, and reservations are the move. Bringing a date here feels a little smug, which is kind of the point.

Tetsuya Wakuda made Las Vegas his US debut, reportedly because the Strip's energy reminded him of Shinjuku, which is either a compliment or a warning depending on your tolerance for spectacle. This fine dining room inside The Venetian pulls Japanese seafood, Canadian lobster, and Tasmanian oysters into a menu that moves between traditional and contemporary Japanese cooking. A hidden omakase room exists for those who know to ask, with rare whisky alongside the meal.

A red light above an unmarked door in a Chelsea coffee shop is the only signal that there's a cocktail bar behind it. Once through, the room opens into flocked wallpaper, fringed lampshades, and an antique copper bathtub sitting squarely in the middle of things, which everyone photographs and then pretends they weren't going to. The seven-seat copper bar is the calmer alternative. Dressed-up but not stiff, and a long way from the espresso machine out front.

The entrance reads "Lower East Side Toy Company" on an iron gate, which is not a toy company. Beyond it, a semi-subterranean passage runs between buildings toward an unmarked door with a brass peephole, and yes, the rats are part of the atmosphere. One of the few surviving Prohibition-era speakeasies in the city, this bar on the Lower East Side commits hard to the bit, and the whole approach feels like a dare before you've ordered anything.