Chief’s Fills the Gap in a Disconnected Nightlife Scene
Bob Peters’ new NoDa cocktail bar is as homey as he had hoped
Two introverted neurodivergents walk into a bar as strangers on a Sunday afternoon. Three hours later, they’ve swapped life stories, cross-referenced socials (because “it must be kismet,” duh), debated navigating late-stage capitalism while Black in corporate America, and still can’t remember each other’s names.
When they realized they were also in the same sorority, the moment began to feel a little too surreal. But it’s not awkward — just time to detach from the overstimulation and hyperfocus on how weirdly perfect the timing was. No plans were made, but there was a mutual understanding: some time, same place, maybe.
That place? I’m glad you asked. Chief’s Modern Cocktail Parlor, aka Chief’s, is a come-as-you-are cocktail bar tucked along North Davidson Street next to The Goodyear House, where you can find ”first-class service with the comforts of home.”
Opened by Built on Hospitality — the restaurant group behind the neighboring Goodyear House, Folia, and Old Town Kitchen & Cocktails), Chief’s is the brainchild and passion project of affable local legend mixologist Bob Peters.
Opened in January, the new establishment is “sicker than your average” — equal parts low-pressure, modern, cozy and cool.
Moody neutrals, tufted leather, and upholstered nooks in a century-old mill house deliver a soft landing for weirdos, libation connoisseurs, thinkers, overthinkers and folks who find fluorescent lights and forced small talk physically painful.
Whether you’re nursing a classic Vesper ($17), diving into an ADHD-fueled convo, or just vibing to the playlist (*cues “SpottieOttieDopaliscious” by OutKast*), Chief’s makes it easy to feel at home in someone else’s living room — yes, even introverts can be forced to become fast friends against their will.
After an hour of “this and yap” with someone I didn’t know, I giggled, thinking back to 2015, the first night I met Bob Peters, who referred to himself as a “tall, cool, glass of mayonnaise.” A quirky riot from the start, Bob does not, in fact, “meet a stranger.” His energy behind the bar pulled me and my then-editor into his orbit, inviting us to stay a while. And that we did.
On that day, the veil of my regular Red Bull vodka obsession was lifted as Bob handed me something dangerously balanced, intricately complex, and unapologetically adult: The Green Dragon, his twist on a green tea with lemon, lime, vodka and gin.
I’d popped my craft cocktail cherry, and that’s when I learned what all grown women know: like many things in life, high-vibration libations take time and are meant to be savored.
Though Bob wasn’t behind the bar on the particular recent Sunday when I visited Chief’s, his welcoming spirit yanked me through the threshold as staff extended the warmest, most genuine greeting — the kind that makes babies startle-cry but somehow everyone laughs. That one.
And I was the baby — blinking, unsure and suddenly seated next to someone who, oddly, fit like a memory I hadn’t made yet.
Once the anxiety settled, I took a peek at the menu for what I thought would only be one drink before racing out the door. “WWBD (what would Bob do),” I thought, pretending not to feel the phantom urgency of someone behind me, even though no one was rushing me but me. I took a breath.
“Chill out, you earned this solo moment after a weekend with the rents and your little sister, which included a segway to the Park Expo Center for Unicorn World. You deserve a drink, and it should be stiff.”
A classic to start. Having just returned from New Orleans, I was still haunted, in the best way, by the slow pace of the French Quarter. I missed the way strangers nod at you like old friends, brass floating down the street like smoke, and the quiet authority of a good drink served without pretense.
So, I settled on the Nola-born Sazerac ($17): Southern Star Rye, rich syrup, absinthe rinse, and Better’s Bitters. It felt right. Heavy on ritual, light on nonsense — a cocktail that speaks softly but carries history with every pour. As the first sip hit, I could feel myself unwind. Maybe I’d stay a little longer. Maybe I’d even talk to someone.
Maybe this wasn’t just a drink, but a premonition that my deadline would be missed … again. I call it the Bob Peters effect.
Read more: Chief’s Modern Cocktail Parlor Set to Open in NoDa
Whether you’re neurodivergent, neurotypical or just neurotic, there’s something unicorn-like about finding a space where the lighting’s soft, the drinks are strong, and the vibe check feels like, “Bring your ass on in the house and let’s kick it in the parlor room.”
While Chief’s may be a cozy ode to Bob Peters’ parents, Chief and Marmee, it surely felt like a love letter to the city as I looked out onto North Davidson Street, sitting on a bench on the front porch “stoop,” enjoying my last sips during a Sunday afternoon rain.
