East is Best

Nothing cuts through class barriers quite so effortlessly in London as the local pub. Around Spitalfields where I frequent, are a fine collection of old boozers where fashion designers and creatives, newly poor bankers and original East Enders all get merrily drunk together with that Dunkirk spirit that is unique to the British. This is not a London that fans of Richard Curtis movies would recognise and is probably all the better for that.

The Northerner was out with some of the fashion set on a pub crawl of Gay Soho, so the call went out and Heavy D (formerly Big D, lest you were wondering), the Caister boy, the Engineer and yours truly all descended upon the Golden Heart on Commercial Street. The Golden Heart effortlessly mixes together old East End locals, with the creative and financial services set that have encroached on its territory, and manages it all with aplomb. An old fashioned jukebox and a steady flow of beers saw the crew singing along heartily to Rod Stewart's greatest hits - something I feel we managed very well, although I don't think the collection of French designers sat next to us thought so. And people say the French have sophisticated tastes.

From there we stumbled up Brick Lane, with the obligatory stop at the legendary Brick Lane Beigel before finishing the night at the Shoreditch version of Beach Blanket Babylon. This place gets some bad press and I'm not quite sure why. The place is more Peaches Geldof then Alexis Chung, and there's an awful lot of Class A action going on in there which I guess isn't everyones thing. However Heavy D certainly appreciated the pretty young things bouncing around the place and a great DJ throwing some good tunes down , accompanied by a steady flow of cocktails kept the crew entertained for several hours of mayhem.

One final point. I'm not sure that the crew's 'undercover polic chic' style suited the vibe of the place. Or any place for that matter. I am very sure it won't catch on. Next week we'll try the estate agent look.

Ketel One at the East Room, Shoreditch

When I think of the Dutch, I think Van Gogh, liberalised Amsterdam,and the beautiful football But not vodka - that's a product which I primarily associate with the the frozen triumvirate of of Russia, Poland and Sweden, despite the recent best efforts of outsiders such as NZ.

So when The East Room, the bar that is part of the Milk and Honey group which in a moment madness decided to make me a member, invited me and a guest to a tasting evening of the Ketel One Vodka I was more then a little intrigued.

Having only ever been to wine tastings before my partner in crime the Big D and I were unsure of the form for the evening. Does one sip? Quaff? Spit even? Fortunately we just drank, and drank, and drank. Several things were offered our way, the memory of which is a little hazy, but classic vodka martini, vodka sours, and a couple of wonderful grapefruit and lime based concoctions all hit the spot. We also agreed to do a 'blind' tasting comparing a 'common' brand, a premium brand, and finally Ketel, which, much to our hosts relief, we agreed was the best of the products on offer.

So what's actually good about it? Well the first vodka, which was a well known Swedish brand was like rocket fuel in 'nose' and to drink. The second, a premium French / American brand, was much smoother and palatable. But Ketel, actually had a taste, dare I say flavour which was pretty damned good.

However Big D wasn't so convinced and thought that I had succumbed to the power of suggestive marketing and ambience - the charming hosts dressed as thirties style gents, perfectly complemented the speakeasy nature of the East Room. And he may have a point, but I will say if I had to drink a straight vodka, Ketel would be first on my list.

Apparently the brand, which has been around for 300 years derives its unique flavour from the copper pots its fermented in. Exactly how that transpires into a good thing, I'm not sure. Nevertheless a nice little session, with a very nice and very big, vodka.

Aquum, Clapham High Street

It's always nice to try out new bars, and you don't get much fresher then three day old Aquum on the Clapham High Street. A beautiful West End style bar complete with faux (one assumes) crystal chandeliers, white / pink interiors, and a load of mirrors lest you forget how you look, the bar is split over three levels complete with its own VIP section. Old timers might say Aquum sits slightly at odds next to the legendary La Rueda ,and across the road from the now very famous Loft Bar. Needless to say Big D and I were not accorded VIP status and were down with the commoners, but a beautiful Whisky Sour followed by several Negra Modellos kept us in good spirits.

The clientele were a combination of Girls Aloud and Take That in style and probably age, but had that open friendliness that always surprises visitors to the Dirty South.

When we returned after a fun filled 'interlude' of pop, hen parties and cocktails in a bowl at Mahiki south, AKA the Sugar Cane in Clapham Junction the place was absolutely jumping.

The music had kicked in and the Big D started throwing shapes that you don't normally see on a conventional dance floor, or for that matter anywhere outside of a ring.

Great service, laid back but very efficient bar staff, and numerous but rather nice door staff all combined to make the place work. Very well in fact. Hopefully it will survive both the credit crunch and the competition.

The Old Red Cow, Smithfield Market

The newly, beautifully refurbished Old Red Cow in Smithfield Market was not the place I would have expected The Quiff to choose for his birthday drinks. But then again, he didn't, I did. And if I say so myself, what a great little venue. With it being on the city side of Smithfields it runs the risk of being over-run by lawyers, bankers and their bretheren from the suited profession. Instead it was packed to its admittedly rather small rafters with graphic designers, film makers, printers and other creatives all of which served to further emphasise how deeply uncool the Quiff and me are.

Despite it being over two floors, everyone seemed to migrate upstairs where a free jukebox encouraged a random selection of Phil Collins, Elton John and David Bowie, which was a lot better then it might sound. The Thursday night crowd were definitely in preclub mode, or perhaps pre-payday suggested the Northerner, as impromptu singing , dancing and hugging broke out in the groups of pretty young things that surrounded us.

Apparently they do a superb Bloody Mary but technical glitches and an overrun bar staff meant I settled for the beers which were fine. The Northerner rated the house red as very quaffable, which was obvious given the way her and Big D demolished the bottle.

They also do great food according to a couple of people I spoke to, but no-one seemed to be in the mood for eating. The Old Red Cow is a place for drinking and unwinding and the couple who run it have the charm of old school Rovers Return landlords with the coolness and style to match the clientele. A good combination, and a good boozer.