The small, mingling crowd outside the hazy bar sign on the narrow side street gives it away, but otherwise Ona would be hard to find. That’s what first drew me to this secretive, dimly lit bar that’s full of dark corners made for disappearing; I like a bar that feels like a decent hiding spot. Large hanging plants covering the wall of windows make it seem like you’re lounging inside a green, leafy terrarium. What you’re drinking: Because the Bluegrass State is bourbon’s birthplace, I tend to bet on whatever the friendly bartenders are cooking up brown-liquorwise.
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