I think I'm in love. If I only lived closer to Downtown Phoenix, I'd leave my mark on the Lost Leaf in the form of a permanent intaglio of my ass cheeks on a bar stool. 

It's tucked away on a side street in a humble looking home cum art gallery cum bar. It can be a little tricky to find since no sign exists, so keep an eye out for the neon lit open sign. You definitely don't want to miss out on this place by becoming frustrated after fruitlessly ducking down side streets, saying fuck it and going to The Roosevelt. While it wouldn't be a total bust, you'd be missing out on the warm and inviting ambiance of the Lost Leaf.

That's really what won me over about this bar. It made me feel downright cozy, with exposed brick and wood, local artist's artwork decorating the walls, and the actual kitchen serving as the bar. The main room is large enough to host a large group, but small enough to be homey. The acoustics are very good (soft talkers rejoice!) and the music playing was loud enough to add to the mood, but nowhere near the point of drowning out conversation. There are a couple rooms in addition to the main bar area that you can duck off into for more intimate conversation, as well as an outdoor patio that's a little on the small side but, super score--there's ceiling fans!

I found the prices to be very reasonable and the service to be unpretentious and helpful. There are no beers on tap here, but the selection of bottles is mind bogglingly extensive. I had to ask the bartender to get me his favorite pale beer and I ended up finding out that I am also in love with a brew called 1664. Looks like a wine cooler, but manages to be respectable instead of laughable.

So bring a couple friends with you and indulge one night, and then another, and another. You'll be love struck too.