Crowley’s Liquors

Diverse beer selection.
And there’s a gorgeous white kitty who hangs out here.
What more do you need?

With extremely rude and decidedly unhelpful staff as well as prices comparable to the more pleasant liquor stores around, there is no reason to go to Crowley’s. I live literally a half-​block away and will always make the slightly longer walk to Ball Square Fine Wines, where they take pride in their work and value their customers.

Mr. Crowley is the best, and between the free beer glasses (or occasional beer themed tie or other item) and great prices make Crowley’s the best liquor store in the Porter/​Ball-​Square/​Davis area

I typed «Mr. Crowley’s» when looking for this liquor store on Unilocal,because that’s what my wife and I call it. When we need to quickly purchase some affordable beer or wine or liquor to supplement a meal, one of us asks the other, «Want to walk down to Mr. Crowley’s?»
Why the honorific? Because Crowley’s Liquor is basically synonymous with the gentleman who, 90% of the time, is standing behind the counter. I don’t know if his name is actually Mr. Crowley (I’ve heard more familiar customers address him by his first name, which I never quite catch). But it doesn’t matter. To us, he’s Mr. Crowley, the nicest man behind a liquor-​store counter in eastern Massachusetts.
He’s not an effusive, overly gregarious kind of nice. He’s a quiet and stable kind of nice. He’s not always smiling, but he is always happy, always polite, and always there. Occasionally you’ll see a couple other guys behind the register, but mostly it’s just him. And through him, Crowley’s Liquor has come to epitomize for me a kind of Platonic ideal of the Massachusetts packy. It has led me to understand why Bostonians adore these little liquor stores, and why they fight to keep them. When I first moved here, I thought it was ridiculous that Massachusetts residents routinely voted to keep alcohol out of grocery stores and convenience stores. Now I understand. Crowley’s helped me understand.
Yes, the prices are competitive and the selection is decent. (If they don’t have something you want, they’ll happily order it for you. Just be sure, if they do go out of their way to order you something, to go back and buy it from them.) But that’s really beside the point. It’s all about the spirit of this place, and Mr. Crowley. Every neighborhood in eastern Massachusetts has a packy. The good ones deserve five stars.

It was January 2009 and I had been scouring the city for Sam Adam’s new Brewmaster Beer, the Blackberry Witbier. Countless fruitless searches later, I meandered into Crowley’s, my neighborhood packie, for some standard fare (Captain Morgan’s rum, maybe some Harpoon Winter Warmers) and there it was! The golden six-​pack of the hard to attain Sam. What a pleasant surprise — Crowley’s is both a quick-​stop, reasonably priced package store, as well as an establishment that prides itself on great variety and quality.

A hidden little taste of city in the dwindling urbanhood of Somerville. I can’t identify why exactly, but I get the ghetto-​NYC-​city-​block-​alleyway-​package-​store feel when I walk into this place. It’s not really hidden, but I feel like it was to me. You see, I always went to Ball Square Wines, which has always been pleasant… but slightly pricey. When they were closed at 8:30PM on a Sunday, I ventured one block further… and alas… the lights… the glory… open for business and ready to assist in imbibement.
Friendly. Good Selection. Cheaper than the competition. And MUCH closer to my house than I ever thought.
I have found my new local, walking-​distance packy, and I am pleased.

My corner packie and a few really nice folks to boot. Not as well lit or organized as fellow Ball Square booze barn Downtown Wine and Spirits, but the prices run a little lower. Plus, they seem to give me a glass or stein everytime I’m there. My cabinet looks like it’s sponsored by Woodchuck.
One stand-​out visit:
— Needed a last minute gift. Grabbed a bottle of Cabo Wabo and tried to pay in a rush. Told the gentleman at the register I was late to a birthday thing; he laughed and pulled a gift bag from under the counter. Even tied it closed with a ribbon. Didn’t charge me a penny. Now THAT is service.