Open since 1916 and little-changed since, the Palisade was the last bar Sydney’s diggers drank in before they were shipped off to Gallipoli. The bar welcomes a mix of locals, tourists, wharfies and anyone else wandering in. The views are stunning, the bar is simple, laidback and friendly, and the beers are always expertly poured. The wellworn boards have been trodden on by thongs, high heels and bare feet alike and the bench out the front is one of the best place in the world to stretch your legs, wiggle your toes and soak up a little afternoon sun with a cold schooner. Or let the breeze that flows through the building in the height of summer hit you in the cheeks as you prop up the bar.
The dining room out back has the original mirrors hanging proudly in the light-filled room with booze adverts tattooed on their tarnished faces. There are still a few old houses around the area, so on a Saturday arvo, you’ll see kids running up and down the road mucking up, mixed with the odd tourist who has strayed too far from George Street. A very, very nice pub indeed.