The Refinery Bar, Bankside

According to Wikipedia, déjà vu is the feeling that one has previously witnessed or experienced a new situation, which is what I felt when I stopped by The Anthologist bar in Gresham Street to catch up with Pinstripe and the Detective.
And not just because my so-called friends didn’t shown up. The reason became clear when I visited the Refinery Bar in Bankside later that day.

For those of you who never venture south of the river, Bankside is the former no man's land that sits behind the Tate Modern and runs from Borough Market in the East to Blackfriars to the West. The old warehouses and theatres along Southwark Street have been joined by cafes, restaurants and retail shops which are mostly concentrated around three modern office behemoths imaginatively dubbed the Bankside Three. Tucked in at ground floor level of Bankside One is The Refinery Bar.

The Refinery screams of a marketing plan that aspires to be ‘edgy’. Wooden floors, exposed pipes, Chinese-style screens, padded booths, chalkboards, chandeliers, oversized light bulbs, leather sofas, glass staircases and marble bathrooms. It even has a DJ and decks from Thursday night onwards. All of these ingredients, plus the fact that it has very good outside space, makes the Refinery very popular. The wine selection is broad in terms of region, grape and price point. The food is drawn from a comprehensive menu that includes flatbreads, burgers, salads, and your classic pub-grub staples. The staff are friendly, mostly Antipodeans, and enthusiastic. And the punters are not as stiff as your typical City crowd, nor as pretentious as the nearby Bermondsey cool set.
However The Refinery feels like a bar that wants to be a funky independent in Shoreditch but settled for being in an office block south of the river. The fittings, good looking as they are have an All Bar One feel to them in that they are clean to a fault and contrived. For example, the mismatched furniture is by design rather then necessity. The bar as a whole lacks character. The same can’t be said for the staff, however, despite their charm they can be inefficient bordering on disinterested. Many times I have seen punters front of queue while the staff merrily ignore them, or congregate around one corner of what is a very long bar.
The déjà vu experience is of course down to the fact that the Refinery Bar is part of a new chain which features the aforementioned Anthologist bar and also The Parlour in Canary Wharf, which I have yet to visit. Although, given the déjà vu feeling triggered by the two venues that I have seen, I think I know what to expect.

The Luxe, Smithfield Market

"It doesn’t get any better then this!" shouts TV Chef and entrepreneur John Torode on the Masterchef television show.

But is he referring to his landmark bar/restaurant - the now legendary Smiths of Smithfields (SOS) - or the relative newcomer that is the Luxe in Spitalfieds?
What was once a Grade II-listed flower market building is now The Luxe with high windows, framed in ornate wrought iron, and an exterior that is reminiscent of a Victorian era birdcage (albeit on a much grander scale). Inside, the Luxe has a bar on ground level, a restaurant on the first floor, private dining area on the top floor, and a basement bar/club area which seems to be permanently hired out for parties when I visit. Clearly not everyone was hit by the credit crunch.
The bar itself is all black, brown and grey, with a low seating space and stainless steel tables on the perimeter, and standing room around the bar itself. Come 8pm, and the '80s soundtrack is pushed aside as the now de rigeur check-shirted DJ cranks up some tunes making the place almost club-like in ambiance. (Except, of course, there is a high propensity of men in suits who seem to career between foot-tapping and stumbling.) Fun, sure, but hardly cutting edge.
The drinks menu is as extensive as everywhere nowadays, with a broad selection of fair-to-expensively priced wines, and European beers that border on the upmarket without being pretentious. They do have a decent cocktail list, but given that the bar seems relatively understaffed in proportion to the number of punters (I’m not sure that three people is ever enough in a bar of this size), you do have to wait. But the caipirinhas are certainly worth it.
I haven’t eaten at The Luxe, but two of my drinking crew swear by the weekend brunch, which apparently is a meat fest that makes a hangover worthwhile.
The staff are charming and efficient, although not exactly personable. The punters are that curious hybrid of architects and graphic designers out on the pull, and City workers trying to be venturesome (but for whom Shoreditch is a step to far). The Luxe has filled that perfect niche between the edgy pubs on the Brick Lane side of Commercial Street and the chain bars in the City, however having done that, it seems to be lacking an identity. It’s not quite as good as the sum of its parts, and is certainly not a patch on its older sister in Smithfields.
The Luxe is beautiful to look at and be in. However I think that even John Torode might admit that some places, most notably his own Smiths of Smithfields, get a little better than this.

Redhook, Clerkenwell

If Mad Men’s Don Draper lived in noughties London, he would probably hang out at the Redhook.

Redhook

89 Turnmill Street London

EC1M 5QU, 020 7065 6800

www.redhooklondon.com

With its '50s and '60s furnishings, lush leather booth-style seating, and mix of chrome and exposed brickwork, Redhook transports you into 1960’s Manhattan. Or even to the neo-lounge world of Jon Favreau and Vince Vaughn’s Swingers. Oysters Rockerfeller, steaks and martinis are complemented by Clerkenwell’s fashionable constituents of architects and designers. I half expected Dean Martin’s Volare to blast out from the sound system.

Redhook is part of the Rushmore Group, which seems to be on a bar/restaurant opening blitz since the East Rooms burned down. ("Must be an insurance job," opined the Northerner, whilst sipping her second bellini.) And it follows their now-familiar template of stylish ambiance and dazzling array of cocktails, fine wines and exotic lagers. Deriving its name from a Borough in Brooklyn, New York, Redhook’s American influences are obvious in both the food and drinks menu.

The bar staff can apparently pull together over seventy cocktails, which is a lot even for the Northerner and me. Drinks include boutique and rare beers (rare for this country, anyway) like Moosehead, Brooklyn Lager and Honker Ale, and a comprehensive selection of US wines, mostly of the Californian and Oregon regions.

On the food side the Surf and Turf theme (great idea, terrible name) is evident with Canadian lobster, diver scallops, king crab legs, clams and oysters on offer alongside Scottish skirt steak, American grain-fed T-bone and the supreme Japanese-Australian Wagyu fillet.
And it doesn’t come cheap. For a bill that include two bellinis, two beers, a bottle of Californian pinot noir (superb, I might add), two courses each and a shared cheese platter, it didn’t leave me much change from £200. That would be fine if this was five-star dining, but it didn’t quite reach those dizzy heights.

The waiting staff are young, charming, and gorgeous, which just about - but doesn’t quite - make up for their casual approach to service. Raising your eyes for attention proved more likely to attract a smile or a wink. But perhaps that’s just me. The atmosphere is laid back and affluent, and you can tell that the punters have money, which is just as well given the prices. It was quiet on the Friday night that we ate there, but having tried to book and popped in during the week, it does not seem to be suffering for a lack of customer.

Busy and buzzing, the place is clearly working. I think Don Draper would be pleased.

Anise, Devonshire Square, City

Anyone looking to identify cultural differences between Americans and Brits need look no further than their drinking habits.

Anise

9 Devonshire SquareLondon EC2M 4YL

020 7626 5000

http://www.cinnamon-kitchen.com/anise.aspx

Whereas Americans, and particularly Californians, see hotel bars as a viable drinking option (and in some cases, an aspirational one), Brits tend to view them as a pre-dinner or night-cap option. Perfectly adequate, but not the type of place around which you would base your evening.
I’m not sure what either culture makes of bars attached to restaurants, but one place that seems to have the formula right is Anise in Devonshire Square, near Liverpool Street station. Situated in the old East India Company building, Anise is a sister establishment to the Cinnamon Club in Westminster - that much-loved restaurant of politicians and aging celebrities.

The bar itself is completely separate to the Cinnamon Kitchen (turn left at the entrance rather then right) and is a surprisingly large, modern industrial space with a square bar at the centre and gray sofas on the perimeter. With dimmed lighting, lashings of blacks and purple, and romantic candles thrown into the mix, Anise can seem more nightclub then bar, a feeling they are happy to reinforce with the requisite DJ, decks and That’s What I Call Music soundtrack. Outside there is the added bonus of a large courtyard, perfect for those long summer evenings.
On the drinks and nibbles front, Anise draws on its Indian heritage and offers an Asian twist on cocktails - the Cinnamon Bellini, Saffron Martini and Anise Gibson are some of their better interpretations of classics (although personally, I think the spiced Kir Royal with green chillies is a step too far). Spicy sausages, duck spring rolls, and home made tapioca crisps are the stand-out items on the snacks menu.

Yet the big draw card for this bar is not the Michelin-star-style appetisers or the school-disco ambiance that takes over the place early evening, but rather the 2-for-1 happy hour on all drinks. It sends the local credit-crunched office workers into a drinking frenzy. To their credit, the efficient and very charming bar staff serve your drinks quickly and without fuss, unlike their attention-seeking counterparts at nearby Be-at-One in Spitalfields. And if you’re organised, you can book a space that comes complete with a hostess who makes sure your drinks and nibbles are delivered to your table. No need to even stand up.

So what’s not to like about it? Despite its location, the quality of its 'product', and admirable aspirations, the bar lacks an identity. It’s not quiet enough to be romantic, but probably not energetic enough to be an outright party bar. In a nutshell, Anise feels safe and reliable. Like a hotel bar.

All Bar One, Bishopsgate

Has it really been 15 years since All Bar One first opened its doors on an unsuspecting London public? And ten years since it last opened a new bar?

The ABO chain has been criticised by many over the years (this writer included) for applying its Starbucks-like model to one of things that British most cherish - drinking. However, it would be churlish to give not these bars credit where it’s due. For a start, I’m sure that ABO pioneered the way for 'women friendly' pubs. They were the first bar chain to offer a comprehensive range of top quality wine by the glass and free tap water in a British brasserie-style setting across London. ABO offered a clean, safe environment that was pitched at and appealed to lunching professionals and after-work City drinkers alike. OK, the brasserie claim might be stretching it, but I think its easy to take for granted the contribution that ABO has made to London drinking.
These thoughts crossed my mind as I entered the most recent addition to the ABO empire on Bishopsgate. On what was once the site of the Sir Paul Pindar - arguably the worst pub in the vicinity of Liverpool Street Station - is now a state of the art gastropub for the noughties. Set over two levels, the bar’s interior is stainless steel mixed with pine, framed by an open kitchen and a floor-to-ceiling cast iron wine rack (although library is probably a better way of describing it given the number of bottles on display). The top floor houses a more formal seated dining room, while the ground floor is your traditional All Bar One mix of tables with limited standing area.

The pitch, which the PRs were so happy to describe to me, is to continue the ABO tradition of targeting women, but with a reinvigorated menu that includes specialities such as Cottage Pie spiced with cinnamon, clove and cardamom, and griddled vegetable risotto with parmesan and Asian style pesto. I opted for a Moroccan style lamb flatbread which, whilst not being genuinely Middle-Eastern, was tasty enough, and a delicious (and very large) glass of Brazilian Pinot Gris.
The crowd are what you would expect given the location and setting - suited and booted City workers - but despite still being glisteningly new, the bar had a buzzing ambiance, the likes of which I don’t normally associate with this chain.
This bar won’t appeal to hipsters or traditional pub types, but that’s not what this place is about. What All Bar One Bishopsgate does, and will continue to do, is to offer good quality food and great wine - while probably becoming the chain bar of choice among the stiff competition around Liverpool Street Station.
It makes you wonder why it took them so long to open up here in the first place.

The Queen of Hoxton, Shoreditch

For those of you who don’t know London, there is a small but clearly-defined border between the suit-wearing financial district that is the City, and the style-leading triumvirate of all things cool - Shoreditch, Hoxton and Clerkenwell.

In bar world, this means a transition from wine bar chain heavyweights, such as Corney and Barrow and Jamie’s, to a land of independent boozers and cocktail bars where suits are not allowed.
Standing on the cusp of both worlds is The Queen of Hoxton, voted by no less a blog then my own as Bar of the Year in 2009. Yet as of last year, this didn’t seem to translate into punters. In other words, it was quiet. Not dead, but never at capacity. What a difference a year makes, and I can now say that a combination of well-promoted DJs and the decision to make the previously 'party only' roof terrace available to all patrons has seen it shift to a standing-room-only/queue around the block sort of place.
So what’s the appeal? Well for a start, it has all the elements you associate with East End cool - art installations, photographic installations, fringe theatre and screenings. Stylistically, its urban industrial décor sits alongside a games room complete with table-football and pinball machines, while a cinema advertising board takes guard of the bar. The drinks are nothing extraordinary - your now-traditional offering of classic cocktails, American lagers (including Mexican and Argentinean) and New World wines. What we saw of the food was of the bar snack/canapé variety. But what marks the Queen as somewhere special is the combination of music - from electronic dance to '50s Americana - and the cool creatives that make its crowd everything you would expect from London’s fashion set. That is, young, beautiful, and very stylish.
The icing on this trend-defining cake is the roof terrace, which is as large as the one at nearby Shoreditch House, but without the pool and self-aware crowd. The English garden party design, with large bean bags, picnic tables and artificial 'grass', turns the place into a year round oasis of fun. Of course, being Shoreditch, there are some glitches. Why nobody has seen fit to place toilets on the roof terrace rather than forcing punters to schlep down not four, but five flights of stairs to the loo is an oversight (and a tad hazardous after a few drinks). Also, the roof terrace bar only offers three drinks - Becks lager, cider, and a version of a mojito. Not a glass of wine in sight. However, people who criticise the place for these failings are being picky, and dare I say it, a tad 'City'.
The Queen has plenty of people willing to forgo these hardships to indulge in its special mix of hedonism, so you might want to start queuing early.

A weekend in Edinburgh ...

Staycations became the must-have holiday for credit-crunched city workers in 2009 and the trend shows no sign of dying as we enter the second half of 2010 (something that may satisfy and alarm our coalition government in equal measures).

Always ones to milk a trend for all its worth, my erstwhile partner-in-crime (the Northerner) and I decided visit Edinburgh for a summer break. It wasn't quite the oxymoron it might sound. OK, so the city did not have the sub-tropical heat wave that has swept London this summer, but it certainly offered enough to keep us entertained over a long and indulgent weekend. And best of all, not a ginger wig or kilt in sight. Well, not many, anyway.

Mal’s place
We stayed at the Malmaison in the Port of Leith, a couple of miles from the centre of Edinburgh. I’m a longtime fan of these purveyors of boutique hotel excellence, and the Scottish capital’s version did not let me down. Set in the former seaman’s mission, the architectural excellence of the building - supported by its high quality service, food and wine - allows you to forget the somewhat dated interior design template that the Mals seem so fond of. (Think late nineties/early noughties blacks and purple). As we were there during the weekend of the British Open, the place was full of middle-aged and well-heeled golfing buffs, plus a small smattering of hen weekenders. Not ones to shy from the fray, the Northerner and I sampled the various hotel offerings, and were partial to breakfast, the odd coffee and drink at the bar, and room service. (Why should it be that in all my years of four- and five-star hotels, this is the first time that the starter and main have been sent up in the order you’d expect in a restaurant rather then at the same time?) We were after a little bit of luxury just outside the centre of the city, and the Mal delivered.

Tigers and Swedes
Drinking north of the border need not be a whiskey-centric affair, and over several nights we were fortunate to find bars that catered for all shapes and sizes. A Thursday night out with work colleagues whetted the appetite with some of the more glamorous bars that Edinburgh has to offer. We spent a good few hours at Tiger Lily’s, a bar which attracts Edinburgh’s young and the beautiful and is more Mayfair then Soho (i.e. a crowd that's more professional than creative). But it’s a vibrant bar with an Ibiza lounge soundtrack, and better still if you move beyond the front bar - which effectively is just an adjunct to the reception - to the cocktail bar in the rear. A warning though: a few of the gang sampled their signature drink, a potent blend of vanilla vodka, single malt whisky, rose petal liqueur and soda. It looked and tasted as delicious as it sounds, however given the state of their heads the next day, I’d suggest restricting yourself to one. Two at a push.

At the other extreme in terms of style and location is Sofi’s in Leith, which the Northerner and I visited on the Saturday night. Sofi’s is apparently one of four Swedish bars in Edinburgh, and while it didn’t remind me of anywhere I have been in Scandinavia, the splashes of pastel yellows and blues and offerings of Swedish food and lagers does go someway towards living the theme. Eclectic interiors with fairy lights, personal photos and the de rigueur art installations are complemented by a jazz funk soundtrack, and too cool-for-school local artists, designers and students who were (as with everyone North of the border) reassuringly friendly. The eclecticism extends through its theme nights, from Champagne Sunday to Film night Monday to Knitting night Tuesday. I was assured that the rest of the week is dedicated to serious drinking. The Northerner and I debated whether this bar would look more at home in Dalston or Manchester’s Northern Quarter before deciding to give Edinburgh due credit and declaring Leith a bar and restaurant destination in its own right.

Say No to Mars Bars
Dining in Scotland is not the deep-fried mars bars experience that legend suggests, although I’m assured that these delicacies can be found for those with a more inquisitive palate. For the rest of us who like a food of an entirely different (read: better) quality, the Northerner and I found plenty of options. Foodies need look no further then the regenerated Leith docks for a range of seafood, and British, Asian and Middle-Eastern restaurants and cafes. Seafood lovers like the Northerner and I took advantage of two local favourites. The Shore on Leith Walk is more gastro than pub, and does a superb line in fish and shellfish plus the more traditional meat dishes - the wood pigeon, pork belly and racks of lamb on other diners’ plates certainly looked appetising. We went for the fish-fest option of poached salmon and fish pie, washed down with a glass or two of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. Simple, warm, and delicious. Just like the place.

Café Fish a little further up the hill is an altogether more fashionable affair. All stainless steel and white interior, the restaurant gets more urban points for its exposed brickwork and fittings. What might sound clinical and cold is anything but, as the friendly staff serve up an excellent seafood-oriented menu with an extensive wine and champagne list. Menu highlights for us included the Stornoway black pudding goat’s cheese and caramelised onions for starters, and spiced Atlantic cod and grilled lemon sole mains. Café Fish gave us an elegant dining experience which didn’t bruise the wallet.

Something that summed up our entire weekend north of the border.

The Electricity Showrooms, Hoxton

Those of us who are old enough to remember getting drunk in the nineties (which happened to be my friends and me on this particular evening) remember a very different Electricity Showrooms.

This bar is what it says on the tin - it is located in a refurbished showroom at where folks once shopped for toasters, Hoovers and the like. However the venue that we old-timers remember was rather different. All black leather furnishings and those ridiculously uncomfortable cubed seats. Nowadays it’s been reworked and re-branded, resulting in it looking like, well...a pub. In fact the Showrooms takes you back to a different nineties look popularised by the now legendary Eagle of Farringdon with its distressed leather sofas, wooden tables, and mix and match of school chairs - modern retro if you like. And all the better for it.

The crowd, despite being only half a stumbling mile away from the City of London, is Shoreditch/Hoxton cool - if that’s not an oxymoron nowadays. The Showrooms pulls the requisite crowd of designers, artists, and entrepreneurs split equally amongst men and women that tick all the requisite boxes in the 'my bar is fashionable' survey. It also does a pretty good range of top quality beers, wines and spirits but, as was firmly emphasised to me by one trendy young thing serving drinks, no cocktails. And apparently it also does darts and billiards and serves pie and mash. It’s almost like it's trying to be liked.

Which it really doesn’t need to, as with a pumping music mix, laid back ambiance, and some beautiful 20s and 30s fittings, the place is great. The Electricity Showrooms also makes a foray into the cheesy nightclub space, if the music emanating from the downstairs bar was anything to go by.

So this bar has something for everyone, which is obvious when you see how busy the place gets. 'Retro is dead' according to a car ad that is currently running. Perhaps, but the Showrooms prove that if you do it well it never goes away, although I’m not in any hurry for those cubed seats to make a comeback.

Giant Robot in Clerkenwell

For those of us brought up on a diet of 1950s Hollywood movies, the diner remains a powerful symbol of all things American. These shimmering stainless steel eating houses have made menu staples such as pancakes, French toast and grits, and bottomless cups of coffee as familiar to us as the traditional full English. By name at least.
Though London has recently become awash with diner-style eateries, there are not many as fresh as Giant Robot in Clerkenwell - the latest offering from the Rushmore Group, which brought us Milk & Honey, the Player, and the recently departed East Rooms.As you would expect from this team, Giant Robot is a good looking place. Dark brown dominates the interior from the oak floors to the diner style tables with leather booth seating, through to the exposed brickwork and rusted iron girders. This effect continues up to the ceiling itself, which is held together by an embossed sheet of cast iron. Restored radiators and antique light fixtures complete the effect. The kitchen and bar are distinguished by the white brick tiles, and colour is dropped in through the pastel yellow and blue plastic chairs, and the countless '50s and '60s fittings dotted around the place. Not exactly a diner in the traditional sense, but very easy on the eye.The staff are charming, attractive and plentiful. They literally fight over who gets to service you, which is good for those of us with status issues. They are a little too enthusiastic sometimes, as part-finished plates, and not quite empty glasses of wine had a habit of being cleared a too soon. They’ll learn.The food is an Italian take on tapas, which in reality means small portions of family favourites. Meatballs, pasta and sliders (meatballs in a bun) are on the menu, but the real star is the Giant Prawns, which were huge and apparently flavoursome. One for next time. It isn’t cheap, and some of the portions are a tad on the small side. Being served mains before starters was unusual, but not surprising given the organised chaos that the waiting team seemed to generate.The cocktails are strong and American super-sized - a dark rum-based punch and a whisky sour were the standouts on the night for us. The architects, graphic design and media crowd give the bar the cerebral, fashionable ambiance that we have come to expect from the Rushmore group, and music plays a support role to the alcohol-induced chatter that became shouting as the night rolled on.You won’t find the Happy Days experience at Giant Robot, but you will find a glamorous take on an American classic. And you may, just may be a little hung-over the next day.

Socio Rehab, Manchester

Anyone who says its grim up North has clearly not been to Manchester. Several decades of regeneration and reinvigoration inspired by the music, gay and student scenes respectively have, given it a social diversity and energy better then anywhere in the UK outside of London. And I don't mean that in a patronising way. But having been to Manchester many times in the last few years (to visit the Three Amigos - more of which later) both the Northerner and I have been struck at how much better and how many more top quality bars and pubs there are. Or perhaps that's because we're late in discovering them.

For our last few visits the Amigos have been taking us to Manchester's Northern Quarter - the 'creative quarter' of Manchester and home of many fashion designers, creative agencies, art galleries and quirky retailers. In this vibrant and lively part of the city, several blocks of former offices have been transformed into bars and restaurants as a sort of Hoxton of the North - and arguably much better.

Last weekend they introduced us to Socio Rehab - the reining champion of Manchester's cocktail bars and according to Amigo 1, home to some very good looking barman. On the corner of Edge and High street the bar's cool credentials are signaled early by the lack of signage. Large windows, low leather sofas and wooden flooring are offset by pastel blues and luscious purple walls. The places feels more advertising agency then bar, although any fears that you are in the wrong place are soon alleviated once you get a hold of the extensive cocktail menu.

No Long Island Ice Teas or Screaming Orgasms in this place. The cocktails are for people who know and enjoy a good drink. Amongst the ten or so that our crew consumed, the rum based David Banner and Big Hitters received top marks for the Amigos, as did another rum concoction - the Stingaree - and the vodka based Allo Poppet. Each a perfect combination of sweet and bitter flavours, and also seriously alcoholic. I took the unnecessary step of ordering a Midweek Roller which with its descriptor as being for the man who drinks during the week at the expense of his work and personal life seemed to sum me up in a glass. However the whisky, rum and vermouth based drink did more the hit the sides. One for the serious drinkers only.

The crowd are a mix of Manchester's hip and party crowd who manage to look fabulous but unlike their London counterparts don't take themselves too seriously. The music is a mix of modern indie, retro 80s and 90's rock, and a dash of dance, and for a small bar, the chat amongst the punters is loud. As all good Northern bars should be then. We didn't stay at this bar as long as I would have liked, as a dinner reservation needed to be honoured. However we did stay long enough to appreciate what a great little bar it is and mark it as a 'must visit again' for our next trip. Oh, and in case you were wondering, yes the bar men are very good looking.

The Book Club, Shoreditch

Has it really already been 10 years since Shoreditch shoved aside Notting Hill and Soho and established itself as the centre of London 'cool'?
For those of us old enough to remember those hedonistic days out east, venues such as Cantaloupe, Dragon, the Great Eastern Dining Room - and the wonderfully named Dreambagsandjaguarshoes - set the template for how great London bars could be. Amongst that illustrious crowd of drinking holes was Home, which for a time was the destination bar of choice for London’s beautiful and hip young things.Sadly Home has since moved to that great bar stool in the sky, but its spirit lives on in The Book Club, the stylish, more upmarket little sister of the Queen of Hoxton.TBC, as it likes to be known, is a statement to post-noughties design. Set over two spacious floors of a former Victorian warehouse, the upstairs features exposed brickwork interspersed with white brick tiling, held together by mix and match furnishings, mosaics and graphic light features. The long retro wooden trestle tables are adorned by the now-essential school chairs (which begs the question - what are London’s school children sitting on?).In keeping with its cool factor, the DJs use iBooks instead of vinyl (of course). And the people are stylish in that London way that most other cities can only dream of, with their effortless mix of vintage, high street and high couture. Books are littered liberally throughout the bar, but people don’t go to TBC to read. The place is vibrant and full of energy, and people to a fashion accessory are friendly, and when we visited, not in the slightest bit pretentious. The bar staff were fun and super-efficient, and it had that buzz that reflects the confidence of a place that knows it’s nailed it.Downstairs is more club than bar, and therefore more minimalist and grungy, but never in any sense dirty (something which some of TBC’s local rivals would do well to bear in mind).I’ve never understood the idea of getting together with a bunch of strangers to review books. Too Stepford Wives for me. However, TBC is somewhere I will happily revisit. Although I’m sure I’ll be having too much fun to read books.

The Pride of Spitalfields, Shoreditch

It’s funny how busy you can get doing the drinking thing. The sharp-eyed amongst you will have noticed that I’ve been moonlighting recently as an online bar reviewer for Here is the City News. This has required me to become more ‘professional’ in my approach and cut down on the character driven reviews on this site that millions of people have yet to see. I’ll let you judge how successful I have been.
Nevertheless my private drinking adventures continue, most recently at the Pride of Spitalfields where the Northerner and I were joined by Derby County and the Dane for an afternoon tipple.
The Pride is a pub that takes you back to a different time and place – jellied eels, barrow boys and a good old fashioned knees-up. This pub is Chas and Dave to the Ten Bells LCD Soundsystem or Shoreditch House’s Kasabian.
Apparently it’s a Fullers pub and this is reflected in the relatively standard offering of drinks where Corona is classified as an exotic lager, and wine is for the brave. Or those people with a less sophisticated palate. But before I climb to high on my pretentious Shoreditch bar white horse, I should add that the place is a nice little boozer. The two small front bars are cosy. The bar staff are very friendly and efficient, and the locals certainly more earthy then you normal Shoreditch drinking den. Oddly given its proximity to Brick Lane it’s not very multicultural. Nor would you mistake it in any way for being fashionable. Nevertheless if you want a cosy conversation over a pint or four, this is as good a place as any.
One final word. The first time I came here I was accosted by some old gent at the bar who took pleasure in telling me that the only people who drank there were ‘coppers or gays.’ As I eyed him wearily trying to work out what, if any category he could fit into he got to his point.
‘And you’re clearly not a copper.’ Who says London isn’t still full of characters.

Brew Wharf, Borough Market

It was not so long ago that any London pub which specialised in ales and bitters tended to be frequented by people of a more 'earthy' nature. Criminals, in other words.

However, on the back of a loose association with the organic movement, real ales have made inroads with the type of drinker who more recently would have been necking European lagers or champagne. Often at the same time.

One place trying to help ale make that leap from being socially acceptable in pubs to fashionable in bars is Brew Wharf in Borough Market.

Brew Wharf is the younger, more boisterous, and less sophisticated sibling of the wine shrine that is Vinopolis. Located in an old Victorian storehouse, this is a big drinking venue with an almost barn-like interior. Exposed brickwork, benches for tables, and stainless steel taps meld together to create the sort of place you might find in Northern Europe. This is probably not a coincidence, as according to the website, Brew Wharf takes its food inspiration from Alsatian food prepared with British ingredients sourced from Borough Market. (One assumes they mean the region rather then the breed of dog.)

However I doubt that the punters - mostly male, mid-thirties, suited and booted - come here for the food. Recognising the needs of its drinkers, Brew Wharf boasts its own microbrewery producing two real ales, and stocks a selection of beers from other breweries, most notable of which are from Meantime in Greenwich. But despite its pretensions (or are they aspirations?), Brew Wharf’s atmosphere is more beer festival then wine tasting. The staff on the night we visited seemed friendly, but harassed. They certainly were not in the mood for offering advice as to which beer might best suit our palates. The decision to allocate half of the available bar space to glass clearance and collection didn’t help, and the resulting scrum in the service section was not for the faint hearted.

Brew Wharf does have a spacious, yet sparse courtyard, which works a treat in the warm weather, and helps to de-clutter the inside bar of impatient City commuters. Yet while you can’t help but admire its ambitions, Brew Wharf has a way to go before it can measure up to its wine-imbibing big sister. Perhaps ales and bitters are best left to the pubs.

Shoreditch House Revisited (as featured in Here is the City News)

If there was a premier league of bars and clubs, then the mighty Soho House group would always be at - or near - the top.

In central London, the original Soho House has successfully usurped the Groucho Club as the media’s favourite watering hole, while out East, its younger sister private members' club, Shoreditch House reigns supreme as the bar destination of choice for the fashionable set.

Located in a former tea warehouse, Shoreditch House is a bigger, brasher version of its West End sibling. The club includes a bowling alley, games room and several private event rooms. However, it is the fifth and sixth floor bars, restaurants and roof terrace where 'the 'ditch' as it's affectionately known by its members, lives up to the hype. The rooftop includes bar, kitchen and lounge (complete with a glass roof that opens in the summer), along with a decked pool area and the most breathtaking views of the City that you can find in London. Down on the fifth floor there is the main dining area and two bars - one lounge style, the other nightclub - all filled to the brim with beautiful people.

With its open-plan, modern warehouse styling and glamorous clientele, you can be forgiven for thinking you're in the Lower East Side of Manhattan, rather than on Bethnal Green Road. Unlike Soho House, there aren't nooks and crannies in which you can hide away from prying eyes, but a night at the 'ditch is all about seeing and being seen. With a high celebrity and beauty count, the place oozes glamour - albeit in a flashy and occasionally overstated way.

But those who criticize the superficiality of the place (and there are plenty, judging by other bar review sites) miss the point, because Shoreditch House a great place to spend a night. It’s not cheap, but you shouldn’t break the bank, and it does have that special buzz that only comes when people feel they are lucky to be part of something. Enjoyment is high on everyone’s agenda, and people are friendly - even if they are mentally scoring and ranking you stylistically while you speak.

Corney & Barrow Exchange Square

You can tell a lot about the culture of a place by how its planners choose to treat the humble town square.

In some towns, the square becomes a market stall in the weekend at which you can purchase high quality meat, vegetable, and dairy products. These come complete with cafes at which you can indulge in the local delicacies while washing them down with your beverage of choice. In some Northern European towns they can even include a water feature - admittedly of variable quality.

However, in the dear old City, developers have shown the initiative for which they are famous, and turned a barren stretch of land behind Liverpool Street station into a community square; complete with a water feature, a croquet lawn, and a handful of pubs and bars.
And the best of this admittedly random selection of drinking venues is the local Corney & Barrow - the fine wine and beer chain that is the closest thing that the Square Mile has to 'bar royalty'.

At first glance, Corney & Barrow in Exchange Square seems to sit at odds with the rest of its brethren. For a start, the bar itself is not much bigger than a garden shed, and seems to have been designed by someone whose core competencies are in greenhouses rather then wine bars. Depending on where you are seated, your view can be the departure platforms of Liverpool Street station. Interesting for trainspotters I’m sure, but not so much for your average punter.

Yet I do the Corney & Barrow Exchange Square a disservice, as packed into this glass room with (not much of) a view, is space for up to 50 imbibers, serviced by charming and very efficient bar staff, and a nice little atmosphere. The lack of space gives the place an intimacy which is friendly rather then intrusive. And, of course, in summer the place comes into its own as City folks take advantage of the open plan concrete to quaff rosé and European lagers in the sunshine.

I often think that bars/pubs around train stations are subject to the law of diminishing returns - they deteriorate in quality the closer you get. The Corney & Barrow in Exchange Square is a notable exception to this rule, and as a result has become a regular for my motley crew of bankers. I recommend you try it.

The Magpie Pub, Bishopsgate

When I was a child we had a pet magpie. Not the cute curious beagle like birds that you have in the UK but the crow sized flying pitbulls that terrorise children in the South Pacific. Well our friends children anyway.
The Magpie on Bishopsgate is a pub that is more cute then threatening, which judging by its busy Friday night crowd is something that appeals to all comers. Tucked away on a side street, directly opposite Liverpool Statation, the pub's capatilises on the abundance of city commuters in search of the after work pint in 'faux tradtional' surroundings. By which I mean, you have decorative barrels at the entrance, a commerically acceptible range of bitters and ales, and a pub menu which I am sure includes bangers and mash and the likes. You also have wall-to-wall suited men enjoying the Heart FM friendly music and the fact that you can get a suburban pub in middle of the city.
My snide sarcasm aside, this is a nice little boozer. Friendly and more importantly for a pub, fast service, and a pedestrianised outside area that you can spill onto should the suits get a bit much.
Definitely worth a stop if you are in the area, but probably not one for an all-nighter. Which should suit the commuter crowd just fine.

Farewell to the East Room - Friday 12th March 2010

It was with great sadness that I received the email from my friends at this once great bar, that the East Room, along with Sosho Match had fallen victim to the recent fire on Great Tabernacle Street. Many a drunken evening had been spent both on that rooftop and in the bar by yours truly, the Northerner, and Heavy D amongst others, indulging in the fine wines and great ambience that the place had in abundance.
the East Room crew are now dealing with the consquences of the fire, including insurance, staff relocation and the likes, and are hoping to rebuild a bigger, better place. Time can only tell whether they can pull it off, but fingers crossed from this punter.

The Nappy Hip - Holy Drinker, Clapham Junction

A sure way of raising a heckles of anyone who lives in South London is to mention the C word. That's right, Clapham. That stretch of land between the SW4 and SW11 postcodes that is maligned as it is admired by all and sundry. The reasons for this animosity depend on who you ask, but for some people they've never forgiven the place for becoming a South of the river version of Chelsea.

Within Clapham there are two clearly marked territories. The Clapham High Street and surrounds are home to the younger city / west end crowd, whilst the Junction is better known as Nappy Valley. Visit there in the daytime to understand why. Yet the Junction has changed over the last few years, and dear I say, some of its drinking haunts are approaching 'coolness'. Albeit begrudgingly. First among equals in the cool bar stakes is

The Holy Drinker on Northcote Road . A cafe style drinking den that becomes very pre-club as the evening goes on.

I recently visited there with my main critic-in-chief The Engineer, and was pleasantly surprised to find a place that in terms of music, people and vibe would not look out of place in Soho. And I mean that as a compliment.

As you would expected from a converted shop, the bar is longer then it is wide, and is split into three sections, most of which are tabled to allow the girls to rest their heel tortured legs.

Having said that come 10pm and pain seems to have disappeared, as the rear of the bar goes all mini-disco with the lasses doing the seductive dance thing, while rugger types ogle them over their lagers. The music is a mix of RnB and commerical dance, and the drinks on offer are your now standard mix of semi-exotic lagers, new world wines and classic cocktails with a 'twist' (i.e. a new name).

Re-reading my description and I feel I am probably underselling this place, as it is a very good bar. The staff are excellent and the vibe is fun without being remotely cheesy or 'pick-up'y.

I would generally not recommend a visit to the Nappy Valley for a night out, but if you are going to be down that way, do check out the Holy Drinker

Rugby Central - The Orange Tree in Richmond

Some bars and pubs, whether it be by accident or design, have a purpose. Champagne bars, ostensibly for romance seem to cater more for business deals and job offers. City cocktail bars are in reality pick-up joints. Antipodean and Irish theme bars are where badly dressed people go to get drunk.

Sitting amongst these bars are a genre of pub which as a consequence of location, a relatively high number of TVs, and of course, seriously posh pretensions, become rugby bars. The Orange Tree in Richmond is one such place which I visited recently with my drinking crew.

I first went here a few years back for a pre-Ascot tipple and found it charming and spacious with country pub style service. The sort of place that posh people love. Of my return visit the other week I am pleased to say that its a pub that continues to do what it says on the box. That is - serves a good range of beers, wines and grub in a comfortable almost homely environment. Except of course on rugby day when its rammed to the rafters. However this is not your footy crowd mosh-up as one might see during any World or European Cup tournament. People are polite and for the most part rather sober. Not surprising given the mostly male crowd of '40 something' city and legal types that seem to be the bar's core constituents.

But is it interesting? Well, if rugby isn't your thing then I'm not sure why you would stop by here, unless of course you were a local. You wouldn't call this a destination pub. It's not a place that you go to flirt, dance, or as we found on rugby day, get served your drinks quickly. Why they would only put three people behind the bar, when they were expecting and seemed to have around 400 punters is anyone's guess. But I guess this contributed to the relative sobriety of the place, which kept things very much under control. Some might say once the rugby was over it was boring. But that's a bit harsh. Despite what I've just said, I actually enjoyed the place and may head back there to watch some rugger again soon. Then again, maybe I'm getting more posh and restrained then I imagine. Let's just hope.

Talking about Revolution Bar - Leadenhall

It's amazing how quickly a month goes by. That's how long it's been since my last posting, which given the considerable time and effort I've put into London bars recently is a tad shameful. Something that the Engineer was only too quick to remind me on Saturday night. So getting back on track, I'll talk about my January visit to Revolution Bar in Leadenhall.

Remarkably I was there for 'work' as the wise heads that run this chain asked me of all people to review it. Appraise might be the better word. This was always a risky proposition for them as my previous experience of the chain had not been good (Clapham November 2008 - truly dreadful) and I had heard that the city venue attracted some dubious characters. And I don't mean New Zealanders.

Fortunately for the owners, and probably my bank balance, I am pleasantly surprised to report that it is a nice old bar. The venue itself, in what was once a Midland bank, is spacious and opulent in a tasteful rather then tacky way. The clientele are your normal city types out celebrating Friday night, interspersed with those poor souls (mostly women) that imagine they'll meet and win over a millionaire banker who will be thrilled by their lapdancer inspired gyrations. It is what is is.

I was there with a broker, who by chance is a millionaire and is single. Although given that neither of those selling points are obvious to anyone (unless you should enquire) we were left in peace. Much to his chagrin.

We tried the cocktails (vodka based of course) which were fair, if nothing special, and even went as far as a glass or two of champagne. All in the name of research of course.

The music was your expected mix of commercial RnB and pop (Girls Aloud seemed to be popular that night), and the crowd warmed up nicely turning the place into a little dancefest.

So the report back to Revolution was good, and my cheque - as promised - was in the post. It's not a bar I'd go to again by choice, but certainly not one I'd avoid. Quite a statement given some of the bars around here.

Confined to cocktails - Be At One, Spitalfields

Chain bars are a much maligned category on this blog, but I have to admit that there are some exceptions to that rule. One relative newcomer to the drinks scence and a recent 'discovery' of mine is Be at One - the nine strong cocktail bar chain that is dotted at the hip and not so hip locations of London town.
I checked out the Spitalfields version (hip location) on the Bishopsgate side of the square (not so hip location) for some after work drinks. The bar shares the same block as a Starbucks and Pizza Express. and is directly opposite an investment bank. It also occupies the site of what used to be an old City champagne bar. But honestly its not as bad as it sounds.
In fact the Be At One crew pack a lot of good things into what is a very small space - think a tradtional English fashioned butchers shop converted into a bar and that should give you an idea of the room. Not that this place is, I hasten to add, a meat market. In terms of drinks there is a good selection of beers and wines bu the reason for drinking here are the cocktails. Some 191 different types if you believe the press. These range from the conventional classics - mojito, caipirinhas, etc - to their own inventions such as Candy Pants (Absolut Kurant vodka, Chambord, strawberry puree, lemon juice and cranberry juice) and the like. And just to make sure that you are tempted they offer a 2-4-1 Happy Hour (yes, I thought they were illegal now) from 5 - 7pm every day. All set to a backdrop of pure 80's pop. Magic.
What Be At One isn't of course is cool - you won't find your Shoreditch / Hoxton artist crowd. Nor do you see much in the way of denim or trainers. But Be At One with its great service and laidback ambience gives it a certain sort of charm that means it never strays on to the wrong side of cheesy. However close it might come. So give it a try - it's the perfect starting place for a night ou and you even might want to end the night there too.

Pinot grigio inspired hedonism - Prohibition, Bishopsgate

Happy New Year readers, and I hope your first few days of 2010 have been kind to you. Which in the UK at the moment means being able to leave your house without snowshoes. And people talk about global warming. A socially active and highly alcoholic December 09 meant that I did not blog as much as I should have, and as a consequence have a backlog of blogs to publish.

So my first resolution of the year is to drink out more frequently and Blog about it. That's that sorted.

Looking back on my unfinished items I've decided to start with the much derided, but nevertheless enjoyable little venue that is Prohibition Bar on Bishopsgate in the City of London. Prohibition as a concept was designed to capture the spirit and style of the thirties style speakeasy - all dirty martinis and shysters and harlots out for a bit of illicit pleasure set against a backdrop of cool grooves and hedonistic behaviour. What you actually get is a converted office block positively dripping with an atmosphere of pinot grigio and lager, celebrity branded perfumes and aftershaves, and scantily dressed women eying up traders in their 'dress down Friday' bests, all throwing shapes and singing along to cheesy pop and 90's indie anthems. Al Capone era Chicago it most certainly is not.

But you can't fault the place for being fun and judging by the number of people throwing money across the bar, very successful. We were there to celebrate a new job for Young Elvis who was heading off to Hong Kong to live in a shoebox and avoid paying tax and what better way then to drink with abandon in a good old fashioned 'pick-up' bar. For Prohibition is one of those places that you find frequently in the large cities and towns around the UK and Ireland, but are remarkably rare in inner-city London .

Would I go again? Well I probably will as it seems to be becoming the bar of choice for my colleagues leaving and birthday bashes, but whether I'd recommend it is another thing. If you're young, single and fancy a big night on the lash then go for. It seemed to be to Young Elvis's taste. However if you're after some urban sophistication I'd try one of the scores of other establishments all within stumbling distance of dear Prohibition. Now to work on that blog backlog.