Jadran Liquors

I pass by this place pretty often and I didn’t know it was even a business because there’s almost nothing in it and its almost always closed. My boyfriend and I smile when we see it but would not shop there.

People love to complain — the Bodega has some of the randomest things in the world, cheap booze, and some old school ambiance. I never knew it’s real name.
This place isn’t Whole Foods — doesn’t pretend to be and doesn’t care. It’s worth a stop in to soak up some local color and an Old Style.
I have to say the reviews of this place had me crunched over with laughter. Please take your time to read them all.

I like the social club atmosphere of this place and it’s clearly a place that you only patronize if you, like, know you’re supposed to patronize there. That’s fine with me, too.
However, I dislike that the owner seems more than willing to sell liquor to the sketchiest people in the neighborhood, like the posse of very sketchy dudes who spend the day creeping and crawling along Irving Park Ave. — the dudes that 90% of the other business owners no longer sell to for obvious reasons.

Dynamite service. Have a beer with the owner. hahaha

Here’s the problem with this creepy little bar/​grocery/​liquor store, I made the mistake of walking in.
I swear it smelled just like a house nine guys and I rented in college– humid air choked with beer evaporating from cigarette butt filled bottles, two day body odor and unwashed dishes festering in standing water. I’m serious. The dirty floor was terrible. The grubby produce was terrible. But most of all the slumping/​leering crowd of drunken rabble was terrible. My girlfriend lasted about 10 seconds before turning heel and fleeing. For that brief time not one of them even knew I was there. They looked her up and down like a hobo on a ham sandwich. These guys were straight from central casting. One guy had an eye patch… I shit you not.
Here’s how this train wreck started. I remembered walking by once and seeing some produce in the window. I was mistaken to think I could purchase an onion without a trip to a grocery store. Needless to say, no onions. The closest I got was the bushel basket of either small apples or red potatoes near the door by the front window. But honestly I couldn’t tell. When I asked for onions the bleery eyed owner just stared at me with a bottle of Jäger in his hand. Finally after several awkward moments one of the mutant customers sitting on folding chairs scattered around the disheveled shop finally said, «No. No onion.» And that was enough for me.
Pictures of this disaster to follow.

Thankfully I have moved far, far away from this place. But I was sure to call the health department on them after the cigarette incident and was glad to see a No Smoking sign in the window a few weeks later. Thumbs down to health code violations.

Sorry, Natalie S. is completely wrong. They are not Polish! They are former Yugo’s, and they even speak some Albanian! Get it straight, girlfriend!
Now, I happen to agree that this place can seem intimidating at first. It is not the cleanest of liquor establishments in the City. Nor is the Former Yugoslavian Welcoming Committee enticing.
However, the owner has «frash» produce from his farm in «Meeshagan». As a Michigan girl, I like to buy fruit and veggies that have grown up in Michigan soil, like yours truly. His tomatoes and apples rival that of the Mexican Guy with the Truck (also Michigan soil produce).
Give them another chance, Natalie S.