Old Mates Pub — Restaurant in New York

From the moment you stroll into Old Mates in the Seaport, it’s clear you’ve stepped into something uniquely antipodean—a charming paradox of rugged finesse and laid-back sophistication, much like sipping a Shiraz while wearing thongs (the footwear, mate, keep your pants on).

The space itself is a study in Aussie pub nostalgia, reimagined with a touch of Brooklyn chic. Think heritage green walls, vintage timber, a bar that looks like it’s seen a few legendary nights—and likely a few impromptu cricket matches with cocktail shakers doubling as stumps.

Let’s talk leadership, because this ship sails smooth under the command of Amanda, the General Manager who’s not just running the floor—she’s running the show like a true blue legend. Ever met someone who could juggle a cocktail order, a delivery hiccup, and a rowdy expat birthday group all while recommending the perfect Pétillant Naturel? That’s Amanda. If Australia had knighthoods for hospitality, she’d be Dame Amanda of Seaport.

Then there’s Brocky, the bar manager. Equal parts mixologist and mischief-maker, he’s the bloke who’ll serve you a world-class Negroni while cheekily asking if you’ve ever wrestled a wombat. Behind the bar, he’s got more flair than a B&S Ball dance floor, and somehow manages to keep the vibes flowing as smoothly as his martini's (which tastes like a Melbourne laneway fell in love with a Bondi night out).

The menu reads like a homesick Aussie’s fever dream. The chicken parmi? Delightful. The meat pie has crust that flakes like a summer in the Outback. And the Vegemite butter on sourdough? Let’s just say it’ll sort out whether your dining companions are real mates or just tourists with a koala keychain.

And let’s not forget the drinks list—brimming with Aussie wines that would make a Barossa Valley winemaker shed a proud tear, and cocktails with enough punch to make even a bogan say, “Phwoar, that’s a bit of alright!”

But it’s the soul of the place—the people, the energy, the accents bouncing around the bar like kangaroos on a bender—that truly makes Old Mates feel like home. It’s the kind of spot where strangers become mates, and mates become family by the third round.

Verdict: If you’re looking for sterile service and beige banter, jog on. But if you want a slice of the Southern Hemisphere served with charm, chutzpah, and a bit of cheek, Old Mates is your new local—even if you’re 10,000 miles from home.

Hot tip: Sit at the bar, order the house special, and let Brocky tell you a story. Just don’t believe a word of it (Bloody...

Old Mate’s? More like Fake Mate’s.

Spent $260 AUD at the bar. No tip. Why? Because it’s an Australian pub or at least that’s what it claims to be. In Australia, we don’t tip at the bar. We support venues by showing up, buying rounds, shouting mates, and staying for hours. That’s the culture. That’s what I did. I showed up and backed the venue properly.

And what do I get for it? Attitude. From Australian staff. In a place that leans hard into the Aussie identity for branding, but ditches it the second it’s inconvenient.

If you’re going to slap “Old Mate’s” on the door, hang a VB sign on the wall, and play Cold Chisel over the speakers, you better back it up. You don’t get to pick and choose when you’re Australian. You can’t sell me a parmi and then crack it when I don’t follow American tipping etiquette. You’re either running an Aussie pub or you’re running a grift.

This place is the worst kind of identity crisis. It uses Aussie culture to pull people in, but acts like a desperate Midtown dive when the bill comes. You want the spend, the brand, the vibe but you’ve got no idea what it actually means to run a real Australian pub. It’s cosplay with a till.

If I wanted a bar to overcharge me and then emotionally blackmail me into paying staff wages, I’d just go to any generic bar in Manhattan. I came here expecting home. I got hustle.

Until you pick a lane, don’t call it Old Mate’s. Call it what it is: Fake...

Been coming multiple times since it opened, and it’s got a lot of rough edges that need to be worked out.

Aussie expat living in Brooklyn. I’ve been dying for a pub like this in NYC. It gets 60% of the way there.

The food is amazing, Old Maters lager is a good stand in for VB. I wish there were more Aussie beers though.

What lets it down is its service, and how they operate. On weekends it basically becomes a hangout for loud, arrogant American frat bros that have zero understanding of pub and footy culture.

It’s very hard to get service at times - they need to operate like an Aussie pub and have a section of the bar carved out for people to line up and get drinks orders. It’s confusing whether you should line up at the bar, or wait for someone to come around and take your order.

I’ve been coming here for the State of Origin, and it’s been great - but this morning we waited 45 minutes for a coffee. We ordered at kick off, and didn’t get our coffees until after half time.

I love that they’ve recently opened up bookings.

Please for the love of god keep ironing out the kinks. You’re a little too focussed on building up hype right now. If you don’t have the expats on your side, you’ll have no loyal customer base. The frat bros will move onto the next bar with cheap drinks.

I believe in you, with a few improvements this can be a real Aussie pub in NYC. Until then, it feels a...