f you follow Toronto nightlife with any degree of regularity, this will sound familiar to you: a new bar has opened in West Queen West. It seems like every other day a new gin joint opens its doors to the artsy Parkdale jet set, giving them yet another alternative for their drinking needs. But let's face it; if you're not part of the "scene," then Parkdale isn't the most inviting of all Toronto neighbourhoods. The many uber-trendy galleries and clubs tend to attract a certain demographic. You know the type – ironic hat, expensive outfit that's meant to look thrown together, calculated veneer of aloofness – basically your garden variety hipster.

That's why, despite the oversaturation of booze slingers in the area, the Cock and Tail fills a vital niche. Located right between The Drake and The Gladstone, the pub has got some powerful competition. One might think, then, that the best strategy would be to use the magnet approach; just be as conspicuous as possible in order to attract and intercept the passing scenesters. Commendably, the Cock and Tail takes the opposite approach. Rather than flashy and obvious, it opts for modest and unassuming. This strategy (or lack thereof) is as refreshing to this 'hood as a tall frosty beer.

For someone just strolling by, the place is barely even noticeable. A narrow space nestled between Cinnamon Girls bakery and a vacant building, the pub doesn't do much to call attention to itself. The unobtrusive sign hangs quietly above the window, through which passer-bys can catch a quick glimpse of a piano and a double bass. It's intriguing if you're paying attention, but if you're not then you'll likely walk right on by.

Arguably, the most flamboyant thing about the pub is its moniker, a pun so inspired that it's worthy of its own Martiniboys blurb. Ironically, cocktails are not the main focus of the place. Walking through the doors, across the hardwood floor and past the two long banquettes, you're met head-on by the bar. Although it's quite noticeably stacked, your best bet is to shy away from complicated mix drinks. With ten different beers on tap and nearly forty in bottles, it's hard to justify ordering anything else.

At the bar sits a talkative woman in her late twenties. From the way she carries on with the bartender, it's obvious this isn't her first time here. As the night goes on, she's joined by a few other barflies. It's not long before they are best friends, talking and laughing as if they've known each other all of their lives. Although this was the scene when I visited the pub, with the cultivated air of relaxed neighbourhood charm, this could easily describe any trip to the Cock and Tail.