Nisei Lounge is fairly bright by dive bar standards, letting these stalactites do their reflective work. String lights creep through the space, adding a bit of warmness to the proceedings as the natural light fades away deeper into the dive bar. Opposite the bar, a large secondary room provides ample overflow seating that consists of hightop round tables and supporting cushioned stools. Televisions surround the red-painted room, decorations largely absent in favor of TVs, a photo booth, the bar’s ATM and the ancient jukebox stashed in a corner. A dart board corridor stretches off of this side room, a pair of boards anchored under flowing Christmas garland with chalkboards on either side.
If there was any mistake as to Nisei Lounge’s Malort dedication, the so-called Malort Wall clears that right up, row upon row of the clear, foul-tasting liquor along a ledge behind the bar. The entire collection rests under dual Chicago city and Malort flags, but maybe even more interesting is the collection of baseballs soaked in Malort in a glass jar along the same ledge. The concoction is apparently available for consumption, but this reviewer will admit to passing up on the opportunity.
Nisei Lounge is a crucial place in a part of town that desperately needs a good, classic dive bar to combat the rampant capitalism that has swept the neighborhood. More importantly, Nisei Lounge’s historical service to Japanese-Americans, giving these displaced immigrants a place to congregate at a point in time where that community was sorely needed provides the kind of authentic, communal foundation the creates the kind of love and admiration that exists for Nisei Lounge. Cubs game or not, Malort short or not, places like Nisei Lounge live in service to the community and do so with enduring, well-earned devotion.