Illustration by Michael Kirkham

The Dutch Kills Civic Association features a windmill on its logo, reminding visitors that the area once had more farmhouses and fewer strip clubs. Behind a brown door on a blasted section of Jackson Avenue, a whip-thin saloon that bears the neighborhood’s name is bringing back a version of the past, with the clink of hand-cut ice in tumblers and the waft of freshly cut orange peel. “We were here when there was nothing here,” Natalie, a mixologist with a sleeve of tattoos, said on a recent Wednesday evening. “Now it’s a destination bar. People come from all over the city.” She turned to a pair of patrons: “Do you like your drink sweet? Sour? Boozy? Refreshing?” Cocktails here are almost self-consciously “craft,” and, though there are plenty on the menu, you’re better off giving the bartender a base liquor and a flavor profile. “Refreshing? You’ll have a Penicillin”—lemon and ginger layered with Islay Scotch. “This is the Bee’s Knees”—a citrusy gin cocktail—“but I added strawberry juice.” After a pair of Gershwins (gin, lemon, ginger, rosewater), a move was made for the jukebox. “Street Fighting Man” came on, and a bourbon-and-absinthe cocktail called the Battle of New Orleans was swiftly mixed, and even more swiftly drunk. Last call, and the music switched to Bowie. The final patrons stumbled out into Queens to the fading strains of “Life on Mars.” ♦