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.