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 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.

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.

Hoxton royalty - The Queen of Hoxton, Shoreditch

A friend of mine is fond of saying, "who says Rick Astley is coming back, as far as I'm concerned he's never left!." And the same might be said for seventies and eighties soft rock - one of the more maligned genres of my not so short lifetime, seems not only to be back, but fully embraced by the hip and the beautiful of London town. And few bars are as hip or beautiful at the moment as The Queen of Hoxton located in the heart of Shoreditch. This place used to be Industry up to about 8 months ago - a place that never quite got the balance right between aspirational cool and City boy drinks venue. A case of one plus one not equaling two.

The Queen of Hoxton has gone down the 'too cool for school' path and is all the better for that.

The Northerner and I have been there several times and have been struck by how they have the balance just right in terms of urban self regard, and very friendly service, backed up by an eclectic mix of rock, hip hop, disco and dance. Something to cater for all ages - even mine.

The clientele are check shirted boys with skinny jeans and converse trainers, and girls in party dresses vintage of course - well those who aren't mirroring what they boys are wearing. Drinks are your classic cocktails, fashionable lagers (Mexican, Californian, Argentinean) and new world wines, which combined with the hip young things and edgy / retro music make for a fun and frivolous little bar. Apparently the place is celebrity central for those who are into that Hoxton / Shoreditch cool thing, however there has been noone of note in my recent, and frequent visits. Then again, who exactly am I right?

QOH is a great London bar, and one I plan to return to a lot. A friend of mine has commented recently that the bars I tend to big up on this blog tend to be the antithesis of what I personally am about. By which he meant, hip, fashionable, designer hangouts with an emphasis on youth. If you accept that (slightly insulting) synopsis then its true that QOH is all of the aforementioned. However because its relatively undiscovered as such, and I have enjoyed it every single time that I've been - something which not many of its competitors can claim I'm gone to give it my own little gong for Best Bar of 2009. As my man would say in hushed reverence to the mighty Rick Astley - good things come and go, but when greatness strikes, it should be recognised.

Happy New Year troopers.

All hail Mexican cool - Boho Mexica, Shoreditch

When you think of Mexican restaurants images of sombreros, tequila shots and fajitas come to mind. And not in a good way. Well you won't find any such paraphernalia at Boho Mexica in Spitalfields, one of the new wave of hip Mexican joints that have appeared in London over the last year.

The Northerner and I were up for a bit of Friday night lights in Shoreditch, so after kicking off at the delightful Queen of Hoxton (to be reviewed later in this blog) headed onto Boho Mexica to sample from what looked a delightful, and surprisingly cheap menu.

Located in an old Chinese restaurant, Boho (on this night anyway) was half dining, half pre-Xmas party. After briefly considering crashing the seasonal bash we took the surprisingly mature option for us and went to our table.

Thank goodness we had booked as the popularity of this place is something else. Helped in part no doubt by the continued support of Time Out magazine, but obviously due to the fact that it is pretty damned good.

And so it proved. The menu consists of appetizers, a tacos bar (the soft corn tortillas), antojitos, tortas and tapas, ranging in price from £3.95 to £6.95. Not only is the food cheap but its delicious - our Carnitos Tacos (slow cooked pork tacos), De Pezcao (sauteed sea bass tacos) and Enchiladas de Mole (chocolate and chilli sauce chicken with rice) being the standouts of the eight or nine platters we sampled. We washed it back with a cracking Argentinian Malbec and yours truly even found space for a dessert (Copa Nevada - cinnamon and vanilla cream with lime yest meringue) and the obligatory margarita to round things off.

This place is one of the loveliest restaurant's I've been to for a while. Great food, warm friendly service, and a very festive atmosphere means it works as both a romantic and 'friends night out' venue. Plus its fashionable and hip. Mexican restaurants being cool. Who would ever have thought that.

Czech your drinking - The Luxe, Spitalfields Market

There are big nights and then there are ridiculously big nights. On what was my second visit in as many weeks to The Luxe in Spitalfields we'd gathered together a crew of occasional and frequent imbibers to celebrate all things Friday.

John Torode's - as in Smiths of Smithfields and occasionally MasterChef - latest bar has copped more then its fair share of criticism much of which is hard to understand. For a start its a very beautiful venue with a birdcage type exterior enhanced by high windows and funky, modern furniture. The Luxe's design is very much in keeping with the original Spitalfield's market albeit successfully updated for the noughties.

Second the service, whether at your table or the bar is slick and charming - there's not too much waiting around at this place. And finally it has a buzz reminiscent of when Smiths of Smithfield's first opened. It's not by any means hip, but it successfully strikes the balance for those city workers and wannabe hipsters for whom the other pubs in Commercial Street and Brick Lane are a little too grubby.

The first time I visited the Luxe was on a Monday night on which it had enough of a crowd and ambiance to justify drinking on the earliest school night. By the second visit we were at full-on Friday mode, with birthday parties, party girls and boys, and us - the occasionally motley drinking crew that included such luminaries as the Northerner, Lady Devon, Young Elvis, the Engineer, the Caister Boy, Betty Boo and the Architect and the Senorita to name but a few - meant I was never going to get off lightly.

And that turned out to be the case as, instead of stopping at three to four of the 6% Czech beers, Young Elvis and I powered through what must have been a dozen or so, and behaved accordingly. The Northerner wasn't best pleased. After all, she'd only had five caipirinhas.

Finally I called time, probably not a moment to soon, stumbling off into the night, and leaving the pretty young things to have some fun. Nevertheless I do think the Luxe is a very good addition to the Smithfield's portfolio and a welcome alternative to the awful banker bars of Bishopsgate. Not that you want too many more bankers there. Nor, if you take into account how I felt the next day, do you want to overdo the Czech beers. Don't say you haven't been warned.

The Portuguese come out to play- Bairro Alto, Lisbon

Losing luggage is not a great way to start a holiday. This is exacerbated if you happen to be in a country where the men are 1) considerably smaller then you 2) dress much better then you do and 3) most importantly tend to wear a very 'fitted' style (read muscle shirts) . Tight stuff. Fortunately Lisbon is one of the best party towns the Northerner and I have visited, with bars and food haunts to more then compensate for any wardrobe mishaps. So despite looking like a new arrival on Old Compton Street, we attacked the social scene with abandon and chose to spent most of our evenings in Bairro Alto - Lisbon's answer to Shoreditch / Hoxton and the Lower East Side.

I can't begin to name the bars we visited so I will try and describe the scene for those of you who have not visited the area. First, unlike Shoreditch or the LES in New York; the Bairro does not have a daytime thing going on with lots of boutiques and shoppers, cafes / restaurants etc. It does have them, but they re dotted around the place, hidden behind or next to what look like doorways into peoples homes. In fact, during the day, the area is litter and graffiti strewn (the latter is at least artistic), and very quiet. You are just as likely to bump into a 'care in the community' straggler as a confused looking tourist. Sometimes they are one and the same person.

The Bairro comes into its own later on, as it is a genuine night-time haunt with most shops opening from the afternoon until the late evening, and bars hitting their stride from 11pm . Ditto the restaurants. Tucked amongst the streets, there's a gay quarter, a fado area (traditional Portuguese singing - not to my taste); and endless little tucked away bars each with their own music style and funky interior. And full to the rafters of young people drinking like there's no tomorrow. Which I must admit was a surprise, even to two hardened socialites like ourselves. We tend to think of the Northern European coutries as the binge drinkers, and the Southern Europeans as being more restrained. Not so in Lisbon where shots, caipirinhas and mojitos were knocked back frequently and at great speed. In fact I made the mistake of asking for a vodka / cranberry for the Northerner. What I got was a half-pint of blackberry juice and vodka shot. Watered down with more vodka. I kid you not.

Three nights on the trot of 3am sessions certainly took their toll, but at least we got to sample everything on offer.

If you haven't been to Lisbon or the Bairro Alto I recommend you give it a try. It's fun and very festive and you can still get a seat in a restaurant at midnight. How civilised. One tip though. Keep an eye on your luggage.

Regal cool - The Princess of Shoreditch

The once much maligned gastropub concept is now a fully accepted and important piece of London's social tapestry, and many pubs are continuing to develop and push the concept to new extremes. In the most positive sense. One of the best examples of the Britain's answer to the French bistro is the Princess of Shoreditch, which the Northerner and I were lucky enough to dine at the other night.

Celebrating my recent 21st (plus one or more) we kicked off the night with a few drinks with the gang (more of that in another blog), before heading off to this recently refurbished, 18th century boozer.

Located in the hub of the Ditch, just behind the Hoxton Hotel, the Princess benefits hugely from it's prime location, and the fact that for all intents and purposes its an old boozer. With a twist.

That twist is in the form of it's food, which although not cheap, is top of the range in terms of quality and choice. After ordering a deliciously crisp Picpol de Pinet (one of Langedoc's finest) we set about the serious business of eating.

The Northerner started with the scallops while I tested the foie gras. Neither of us were disappointed - the scallops were fresh, nicely seasoned and cooked on the tender side. In other words, perfect. While the foie gras, with an accompaniment of poached plum and brioche was as heavenly as it sounds. Assuming you're not a vegetarian of course.

For mains the Northerners chose the lamb rump with pak choi and chorizo in the mix, while I went for the pork belly and black pudding. Again both were perfectly cooked to order - tender towards pink - well seasoned and delicious. Not a scrap left on those plates.

Finally we finished with an apple and plum crumble and a creme brulee, which again were exceedingly good and comforting in equal measure. Although the Northerner's crumbles are of course, a bit better.

Given it was a Monday night ,the place was still buzzing and the service was faultless. In fact the Princess left us with nothing to complain about. Very unusual for us.

So a gastropub that goes straight on to my 'must go again' list. Next time we'll take some friends lest people think I make this stuff up.

Finally, I / we have noticed that Time Out seem to run the same reviews that I do, pretty much at the same time. Admittedly their readership is oh, some 200, 000 people more then this little old blog, but for the record - it's a coincidence. Although I have noticed some student journo types casing my house. Hmmm....

Halloween on trend - Home House, Portman Square London

Probably the most American of celebrations after Thanksgiving is Halloween, an event that is now firmly established on the London social calendar. Yet its been something that I've studiously avoided, until last year in New York when I realised how much fun it is dressing very badly and dancing 'in character'. With that in mind the Northerner and I duly accepted the invitation from Betty Boo and the Architect to join them for scary frolics at the rather exclusive members club Home House in Portman Square. If you're going to go to an upmarket club, you might as well look awful. A logic that the Northerner and many of our other friends do not share.

Admittedly Halloween is not a normal night, and as the Northerner quickly pointed out - hardly representative of the club. However, fancy dress aside, you still get a pretty good impression of the place, which I think is worth sharing.

Home House is the former abode of the Countess of Home - hence the posh location - which in good London fashion was restored and turned into a drinking den. It features what I believe house nerds call drawing rooms - four of them in fact - and a mix of antique and modern designer furniture. All of which seem to be unnecessarily low, and a more uncomfortable then you'd imagine. Then again, I was wearing a PVC Michael Jackson outfit.

The clientele are West End / West London upmarket and, on party night glamour personified. In fact the party was one of the best I've been to. Superb outfits, a stonkingly good band, actors in horror character, delicious cocktails, a wonderful DJ set, in a beautifully restored Georgian townhouse complete with an English country garden. When did I get so upmarket.

Betty Boo and the Architect don't frequent the place as much as they used to, given they're also members of Shoreditch House, which, amongst other things, is closer to where they live. However they're very lucky indeed to have two wonderful social options at their disposal. I wouldn't be able to say one is better then the other - rather they're equally superb but still different. In a good way. We're very lucky to have two friends willing to take us to these places. Although I think next time I best lose the 'Thriller' look.

Six of the best - Six Restaurant, The Baltic, Newcastle

Heading up North can be an emotional experience for the Northerner. More then once I turned around only to find her getting all misty-eyed over concoctions such as 'parmos', half and halfs, chips and curry sauce and other delicacies unique to the North East. However as she is more then ready to shout about, the NE of England has its fair share of beauty, culture and refinement, all of which I feel is encapsulated in the Baltic Flour Mills building in Gateshead, now better known as an art gallery, and home to the wonderful Six Restaurant.

Someone once described this as being a Geordie version of the Oxo Tower, but the man was clearly an idiot, as the place is far superior to the Conran joint by the Thames. For a start, the views of the mighty Tyne bridge, with the sun setting in the distance are something to behold. And the food, in terms of service, quality and price, far exceeds anything that Mr Conran is serving down south.

We were there for a Sunday lunch, and after taking drinks and, in that quaintly Northern way, reading the menu in the bar, we were taken to our seats plum in the centre of the restaurant. Floor to ceiling windows allow for great rivers views; the furniture is modern without being over designed; and there is plenty of space despite catering for what looked like 50 covers. No need to worry about waiting staff or fellow diners backing onto your table. The clientele are Newcastle's finest (not an oxymoron) dressed to the nines, shouting to the ceiilngs and drinking with the abandon that makes me so fond of the North. The service is attentive without being fussy. And the food is good. Very good.

The Northerner had local crab to start while I indulged in some mussels with white wine sauce and garlic. We then did the relatively unusual (for us anyway) and ordered the same main - roast beef with all the trimmings. The beef was rare and well seasoned; the gravy was thick and full of flavours and the Yorkshire puddings were the size of Newcastle stadium. And very tasty. Desserts of chocolate brownie and a peach melba were delicious, and as with everything else, of a generous proportions. But here's the real surprise - starters and desserts cost £4 each. Mains for a tenner. We spent more on our bottle of wine (a lovely New Zealand Pinot Noir) then the combined courses - which is as it should be but never, ever seems to happen down south.

So definitely better then the Oxo Tower, and clearly good reason to ignore the idiot who said it. Who, by the way, was me. Say no more.

Groove is in the heart - Pure Groove, Smithfields Market

Hybrid shopping experiences have been the rage for a while now. Retailers with coffee shops, tea rooms and occasionally bars. Coffee shops with hairdressers. Pubs with vintage clothes shops. You name it, they've tried it, usually to good effect. Although I draw the line at estate agents cum cafes. However the classic combination of music store and bar is nearly as old as I am, yet still so winningly effective. And none more so in good old London town then Pure Groove in Smithfields Markets. The Northerner and I dropped in on Friday night when the venue was hosting a DJ session by the Lost Boys (I think that's what they were called) and the place was humming. Pure Groove markets itself as an every-changing venue that includes record shop, art gallery and cafe / bar, but on Friday night it was a well worked combination of them all with a little bit of pre-club thrown it. The clientele are the Smithfield creative set of graphic designers, and film and advertising types, and (on this night anyway) very male. But all in a laidback funky way, as opposed to football loving lads.

The drinks are your standard offering of semi-exotic lagers (read that as Asahi and Corona) and spirits, mixed and served with the enthusiasm and panache of a student bar. And I mean that in a good way.

We knocked by several drinks and watched the crowd shift from animated conversation to bobbing about grooving and dancing as the beats and the beers kicked in.

This is the best Smithfield bar I've been into in a while now, and complements the equally strong Old Red Cow pub down the road. I like this bar a lot and will definitely go back again. If you like the funkier side of things I recommend that you give it a whirl.

Old school with old friends - The George, London Bridge

Apparently bitter and ales are very good for colds. This is according to the Rock Star, who although not a medical man, is the son of one and a highly seasoned drinker so in many ways perfectly qualified to comment. I bore that in mind as the Northerner and I, cold ridden and a tad hungover, headed to the tourist trap that is the George in Borough High Street near London Bridge, and amongst other things, prides itself in its collection of bitters et al.

We were there to meet Little Boots (not the pop star, but my friend who has the smallest feet I've ever seen on an adult) and her hubby the Greek God who were over from Australia for a work trip. I hadn't been to the George before but everyone I know seems to have and talks it up big time. And now that I've been there I'm not sure why that is the case.

The George has all the trappings of Ye Olde English pub. A 17th century coach house that is full of nooks and crannies, the place does have character. Traditional (not gastro) pub grub, a beer garden and an impressive range of beers seems to keep the punters happy. They even serve wine in those small bottles that I thought you only got on planes.

Yet it pales in comparison with the delightful pubs of Borough Market - the Rake et al - and it lacks the views of its fellow tourist traps overlooking the Thames.

That's not to say that we didn't have a good time. Little Boots and the Greek God seemed intent on drinking their way through their jetlag - and doing a good job of it might I add. But given that the George is hardly likely to suffer through any criticism by me, I'll mark it down as one for experience. Old school in every sense of the word.

Exceeding expectations - Shoreditch House, London

For an old bar hand like myself most of the hyped places I visit tend to at best fall a little short of expectations. Not so Shoreditch House which the Northerner and I finally checked out recently to see what all the fuss is about. Frankly, the fuss is warranted as the 'Ditch' is beautifully designed, sizzingly atmospheric and topped off with the best view from a bar / club that I have seen in London town. It's no exaggeration that the cityscape panorama on offer matches anything you might see in New York. And in fact, that is the thing about the place. It's very New York albeit in the heart of Shoreditch. What more can you want from a bar?

We were up there to catch up with our 'new friends', the Architect and Betty Boo who we met at a fashion bash a few weeks back. After taking care of a few bottles of champagne to celebrate the Architect winning a battle with a former employer and me losing one with HMRC, we took in some people watching around the pool - the highlight of which were a gang of guys, looking resplendent in shirt, tie and jackets with small tight fitting denim shorts to provide that bit of drama. And lest you found yourself wondering how their 'outfits' worked , it wasn't too long before they had shed them completely and were launching themselves speedo clad of course, into the pool.

We headed down to the 5th floor for some fine Australian Cabernet sauvignon and a mighty fine dinner - which despite me getting pan fried cod with pesto instead of the pork I ordered, was delicious. The Northerner who did get the roast pork said I was unlucky as it was perfectly seasoned and slightly rare - just how I like it.

At our communal table we were sat with a Naomi Campbell lookalike and her tall OTT fashionable American hairdresser friend, while on my side were two of the most obnoxious European investment bankers imaginable who apparently 'know Nick' and were reeling off complaints by the dozen. To their credit the staff managed them back with ease - after all, they weren't famous, simply rich - which made me like the place even more.

I can't actually think of anything to be negative about - a constant criticism of this blog. The atmosphere is great, views - spectacular, and the staff - very charming and efficient. Just like in New York.

I'm not a member, and don't imagine I ever will be, but if I could I would. It's not better then my beloved East Rooms, but has that extra glamour and frisson that you get when style, fashion and celebrity are under, or in fact on top of, the same roof. Nothing wrong with that.

DKNY Fashion's Night Out, Bond Street

You've got to hand it to American retailers - they do retail marketing and PR better then anybody. After all, they invented it. But it still makes me wonder as to why is it that the Americanos - supposedly puritanical and unhealthily obsessed with the body beautiful - rather then the Brits, still know how to throw a stonking, champagne and cocktail fueled party like no one else. What I'm talking about here is American super brand DKNY, which celebrated the New York inspired Fashion Night Out with Vogue Magazine on Thursday September 10 2009 with a DJ led party in their Bond Street store on that night.

Of course this is not a fashion blog, I leave that to the Northerner and her wonderful ReDesign for Life to work the superlatives on what's on trend this season. However as my experience tells me where fashion people go, drinks and parties are quick to follow, and this globally coordinated party event in DKNY stores across the world, saw the Bond Street shop turn into a funkier then funk, bar / club for the evening. Working in partnership with the uber-hip Bungalow 8 the DKNY crew hosted an evening that was meant to be about the clothes. I believe the UK Vogue editor was on hand to offer styling advice to anyone that looked like they needed it. However, you give 150, mostly women or gay men fashionistas free champagne and gin and vodka based cocktails for the evening. Throw in some DJ spun 80's tunes and what you get is a full on party, complete with dancing, shouting and flirting. This is why I love London. 

This is a weird blog to write in one sense in that DKNY is not a bar that I can recommend that you visit - it's a store that many of you probably will have been into. However for one night only it turned into Bungalow 8 on Bond Street and became one of, if not THE, place to be last week. I believe its what young people now regard as a 'pop up bar'.  So what I would say is try and get on the mailing list, which anyone can simply by shopping there. Just so you can get invited to the next bash. After all if an unfashionable fella like me can get invited, anyone can. And if you think I'm being falsely modest here, let me leave you with this thought. I was, without fail, the only person who the photographers did not want to snap. And only one person stopped to talk to me and give me a card - for styling advice. Enough said. Register now.

Venturing out of the City - The Olive Tree, Bath

As a general rule, the Northerner and I don't venture too far from London town to socialise. And if we do, we're talking Paris, Marrakech or New York as opposed to Leeds, Ipswich or Bradford. Nevertheless with 'staycations' now very much on trend, as us being as affected by the credit crunch as any other social butterfly we decided to take a long weekend in the beautiful Georgian city of Bath. We'd been here once before and had been more then a little taken with the stunning architecture, quaint riverside scenery and greenery and of course the Roman spa, but had struggled to find much of a social thing going on. What a difference ten years makes.

Alongside your normal chain bars are gorgeously restored old pubs, funky tapas and cocktail bars, and wonderful restaurants. And we had the good fortune to be staying at the best hotel in town - The Queensberry, with what is (according to Bath 'siders', Bathers?) THE best restaurant, The Olive Tree. Now okay - there are a couple of Michelin star restaurants in Bath nowadays and The Olive Tree did receive it's vote by the locals in 2008. But when we went there on a chilly but clear skyed Saturday evening there was no mistaking that the place is popular. Bookings are required.

Having said that, it's location in the basement is not as good as it could be. The hotel has the most wonderful reception rooms that one would expect from knocking three glorious Georgian terrace houses together, and its a shame for the diners that this space hasn't been allocated to the restaurant. But that's being picky. The ambience is all low lights and soft jazz music. The clientele are well-heeled Bathonians and those lucky enough to stay at the hotel, and the service is impeccable and charming.

The food is great. I started with Pork Belly and Langoustine and the Northerner did crab risotto with tempura of soft shell crab and courgette flower. Simpler then they sound, the dishes were wonderfully presented and perfectly executed. Beef with dauphinoise potatoes and halibut with pancetta and peas and chive mash were eaten with relish as we only reluctantly offered each other a taster. Desserts of peach melba and raspberry sorbet with a twist of cheese cake, and a charlotte of blueberry, raspberry and blackberry were indulgent without being overly sweet or fussy. We wash it back with a delicious Valpolicella which they put in their mouth-watering sweet and sour section. And they were right.

The place isn't cheap, but nor is it prohibitively expensive, and we rounded off the evening with a port or two in one of the lovely reception rooms. A perfect evening ended was given a slightly bizzare twist when, an admittedly very drunk couple decided to share with us their extra-marital fling secrets. They did have the good grace to buy us another drink for our troubles. And people wonder why we don't venture far from London.

Shoreditch Styling - Callooh Callay, Rivington Street

There are some bars that take your breathe away in terms of visual impact,brilliance of thought and ambiance. And Callooh Callay (yes you heard that correctly) on Rivington Street in Shoreditch is one of those. Picking up the mantle from where the now legendary Loungelover left off, Callooh is is probably the most stylishly innovative London bar this fella has been to in a good few years. And trust me, that covers quite a few bars. 

What am I talking about? In no particular order any place that has a wall of cassettes decorating the entrance to and interiors of the toilets; twenties' gramophones re-engineered into Tiki punch drinking vessels; a retro seventies bar protecting the DJ booth (as in the sort your parents aspired to have in their house); and best of all, a 'through the looking glass' wardrobe that acts as a door to the back rooms; is already doing everything right in the looks department. 

But the innovation extends beyond how it looks, and onto the cocktails we ventured, where once again Callooh came up trumps. After perusing the menu our tasting session began in earnest. The Northerner helped herself to a Hisbiscusaurus (tequila based with apple), Nettle Fizz (Gin, blackberries and Prosecco) and Rocking all Clover the world (Gin, raspberry and rhubarb bitters), which were delicious. I knocked back an Ale of Two Cities (looks like an ale, but with feijoa vodka, bitters, lime, apple and malt syrup) Ready Steady Shake (passionfruit vodka, creme de peche and citrus bitters) and Delicious Sour (courvoisier based) and finally and Afternoon Twee (gin, blueberry, fruit bitters). They were all, without exception delicious and perfectly executed. Flavoursome without tasting overpoweringly alcoholic - despite the fact that most of them obviously were.

We chatted to Richard, one of the founders of the place who was charm personified, and explained that the place, which opened last November, and soft-launched in February was now beginning to pick up momentum - indicated by the taxi loads of beautiful people that rocked up over the course of the evening. I already plan to book my next party there and will be dropping him a line very soon. I can't say enough good about this place except to check it out for yourself. Although don't go too soon. Clearly I want it to stay a 'secret' for a little bit longer.

Back up on the Roof - The East Room Roof Garden

One of the challenges of writing a blog dedicated to your nightlife is avoiding repetition. Despite the fact that there are thousands of bars, restaurants and pubs in London town it stands to reason that you won't visit them all And of course there are some that become favourites, often merely for the reason that they are close to where you work or live, that you visit time and again. And there are places that you love, and with that busy London work thing going on, these are where you go to for that after work 'breather'. For my good self this includes close to home favourites like the Florence and Prince Regent in Herne Hill, and great funky pubs such as The Golden Heart and Ten Bells in Shoreditch. And sometimes a place is so good that you actually part with hard earned cash and become a lifetime member, and it is the East Rooms, part of Milk and Honey group.
And so with the recent weeks of glorious sunshine the Northerner, Heavy D and I have been making the most of that membership. Assuming that you like roof garden bars - and I have yet to meet anyone that doesn't - there are several things that make the East Room's stand out. It's a working functioning garden - they grow herbs, fruit and the like up there which they serve in the restaurant downstairs. On sunny evenings they crank up the best BBQ I've come across in London town, which given my Antipodean heritage is saying something. It's probably a combination of very good ingredients (burgers, sweet corn, sausages, marinated chicken etc), and a man who actually cooks, rather then burns or heats food, that makes the food so memorable. It also has a 24 hour licence in the weekends which means that it’s full to its brim with party people whom, despite being part of a members club, are surprisingly friendly. But then I guess most people are after record temperature hot days, an Ashes victory and several ice-cold beers.
There’s probably no need for me to say anything else about this place as not only is it so popular that membership is about to be or is already closed, but I also have a small army of ‘friends’ queuing up to join me for drinks there. And trust me; it isn’t because of my conversation. One word of warning – this place is so good that Heavy himself – a man who parts with money as willingly as the All Blacks do a rugby world cup - is thinking of joining. You have been warned.

Junky Styling Launch Party, - The Future Gallery and Soho House, London

Events don't get much cooler then a fashion book launch party, and so it proved when the Northerner invited me as her 'Plus One' to the designer's behind Junky Styling's bash to celebrate Wardrobe Surgery at the Future Gallery in the West End. I shan't talk to the fashion side of the evening, as the Northerner does it much better then I ever could in her wonderful blog ReDesign for Life but instead will focus on what I know - the drinks and eating part.

The Future Gallery sits in that odd corner of London near Leicester Square between Charing Cross Road and Long Acre - tourist central with dodgy kebab houses, cheap and awful 'cocktail' bars and minicabs aplenty. However the Future Gallery with its cool white interiors supplemented by a high fashion crowd, a bar serving free Courvoisier ‘mule’ cocktails and Japanese beers, topped off by towering models wearing the wonderful Junky Styling creations is the antithesis of tacky. With a pumping UK hip hop soundtrack, and beers and cocktails flowing the atmosphere was festive in the extreme and all of the guests were glamour personified. Well nearly all, as it seemed yours truly was the ONLY person not to get his picture taken by the two floating photographers. Philistines.
Later in the evening and still game for more we headed on to the legendary London haunt Soho House with our two new friends of the evening, the Canadian and her partner the Architect for drinks and late night dinner. Those of you who have never been there may not realise that there are actually 'two' Soho House's in London. The real Soho House, is the original members club on Frith Street above Cafe Boheme, complete with cool bars, roof terrace and celebrities. Lots of them. However there is another part of Soho House that sits above the Boheme Bar and Kitchen on Old Compton Street which seems to be strictly for corporate gigs and private (non-members) parties. Having been to both venues over the years I can tell you that they are a world apart, despite the denials of the Soho House ownership. Fortunately for us it was the former, original version that we went to, and on a steaming Thursday night in Soho, the place was buzzing. At one stage I went to comment to the Northerner that the celebrity count wasn't what it used to be only to note that she was talking to a Spice Girl. Maybe its just me. We took a drink in the bar before sitting down in the restaurant to do the wine and dinner thing. The details of that stage of the evening are a little hazy but the wine that the Architect chose, as recommended by the sommelier was superb ( a variation of a French Pinot Noir) while the pork that the him and I had (served 'pink') was tender and perfectly seasoned. The Northerner and the Canadian opted for the fish which was obviously great as sharing didn't seem to be an option. Oh and it was very reasonably priced too. In fact the whole place left you nothing to complain about, which no doubt explains why it is so incredibly successful. The perfect end to the perfect evening in London. I think that says it all.

Poetic Justice - The Water Poet, Shoreditch

There are three things which I tend to dislike in a pub. In no particular order they are; venues with an all male / suited clientele; Fosters (or a similarly cheap lager) on tap; and a large Sky Sports screen. Lad pubs in every sense. Each of these elements on their own is sometimes tolerable, but two or even worse all three condemns it to a place that shall not enjoy my patronage. And I’m sure you can appreciate the impact of that protest on the brewery industry.
My first impression of the Water Poet near Spitalfields market was on a visit with Heavy D and the Rock Star and it struck us that it was a beautiful old fashioned East End boozer whose owners had foolishly taken down the Lad pub route. Sky sports screen, wall to wall ‘suits’ and Stella on tap. Although Heavy seemed to like it. I went back again a few weeks later and still, unable to get past the throngs of lager swilling bankers in the front bar, left with the same impression. Why does the City insist on ruining potentially great venues?
However I am nothing if not persistent, and after a pleasant afternoon of shopping around Brick Lane with the Northerner I decided to give it one more try, albeit in a weekend. And thank goodness I did. In the weekend the place is transformed into the scruffy cool Bohemian type pub that is hidden beneath during the week.
The interior which is all maroon and leather with tatty and restored pieces of furniture has several spacious rooms consisting of the front bar, lounge bar, pool room and a private side room. While the garden bar, which is probably the most spacious within the confines of the City square mile, is all urban industrial in style yet relaxing in ambience. Plus it is a suntrap, which is what you want in any garden bar. Apparently the do a superb Sunday lunch but we were too late to try the food thing. Nevertheless a good bottle of NZ Pinot Noir and a nice bit of people watching seemed to keep any hunger pangs at bay.
So I stand corrected and concede that the Water Poet is more then worthy of a visit, and may even become something of a regular on my pub circuit. But I would wait until the City boys have moved on.

Taking a Swedish break - Fika, Brick Lane

I first went to Sweden on a business trip in the late 90’s and there were two things that made a lasting impression on me. One was the snow. It was first time in my sheltered excuse of a life that I had encountered the heavy white stuff and sub-zero temperatures – the former of which was very pretty; the latter very cold.
The second was the phenomenon known as ‘Big Wednesdays’ whereby shiploads of beautiful Scandinavians (are there any other kind) for some reason choose this particular night to get drunk. Absolutely rip-roaringly drunk in fact. And not just the slurring / uneasy on your feet kind of drunk, but the stumbling, collapsing rolling around in the snow sort of stupor that you normally associate with connoisseurs of Tenants Extra. Astonishing but kind of fun.
One thing that did not leave an impression was the cuisine. I dined at some very good restaurants and even did the reindeer steak thing which was quite nice, but overall there were no dishes or meals that have stayed in the memory bank.
Stumbling across the delightful looking Fika on Brick Lane I looked forward to it changing that perception.
With its soft earth colours of brown and green, and furniture that looks like it’s taken from a very famous Swedish furniture retailer Fika is a comfortable and relaxed little place. After reviewing the Scandinavian organic take on a menu, the Northerner and I agreed to go for their speciality, the Planka – a dish served on a plank accompanied by smoked, pressed potato, gravy and a tomato. Intrigued I ordered the salmon variety and the Northerner went for the Kyckling (chicken) which were accompanied by a hollandaise and a chilli infused lemon sauce respectively. The Northerner’s chicken was well seasoned and flavoursome, while my salmon was cooked perfectly – i.e. slightly rare and in itself delicious. However the potato was a let down, lacking in flavour and with a peculiar texture. While my sauce was overpowering but a tad bland – not a good combination. I tried one of the Swedish Mariestads beer which was flavoursome and very high in alcohol content. No doubt it would work a treat on Big Wednesday. The Northerner eschewed some of the eclectic wines on offer (Elderberry or Strawberry wine anyone?) and opted for a French rose which was crisp and dry. Fika is not expensive by West End standards, but certainly not a cheap and cheerful and could probably best be described as an aspirational café rather then an out-and-out restaurant. The food was satisfactory rather then memorable and I would go again, but maybe as a drinks and nibbles night rather then the full dining experience.
'Fika' is according to our waitress, the Swedish expression for what we would call a coffee break, but really it’s a social interaction that Swedes take very seriously. Given my experience of Big Wednesday I can confirm that they definitely do take that form of social interaction very seriously, and perhaps that's the sort of approach I should take the next time I chance upon Fika.