Sunday, March 27, 2011

Experimental Cocktail Club

Address: 13a  Gerrard St, London
   
A review from Lotus Martini’s International Correspondent, London

A friend of mine who recently went back to London to visit their family informs me of a great bar that they discovered. Now I’m not London’s biggest fan (I’ve given it a number of chances to seduce me; but I’ve always left disappointed). However, after hearing about the Experimental Cocktail Club I decide that I may need to head back and give it another go.

So when my International Correspondent is invited over to workshop a new play I ask them to go and review it on my behalf.

This is their review.



The potato-chip complexioned doorman sweeps the tourist rabble aside and my Angels and I step through the unmarked Chinatown door.

The narrow tri-levelled club is a squeeze, more Asian chic than London - translucent teapot lights in the dunny are just so Hara Juku. Still the faux-pressed and mirrored ceilings doesn't seem forced, and the keyboard inset to the bar upstairs works better than they had any reason to imagine when they dreamed it up.

The cocktail menu is rife with exotica such as Cuban cigar-infused buffalo trace bourbon and homemade smoked pineapple syrup. Being a renaissance man myself, I go for the cocktail of that ilk, consisting of aperol, Hendrick's gin, lemon juice, homemade rhubarb syrup, a pinch of Himalayan purple salt and Billecart champagne. There's a moment when I wonder if rhubarb really is a cocktail winner or are we just showing off that little bit too much? It's a cocktail bar. Modesty has no place.

Not pausing to trifle with such ephemera, Blonde Angel flings the list aside and insists on a classic martini. She gives the same treatment to the protesting waitress, and lo and behold it lives up to its billing. Similarly the gimletish Experience, a pleasing blend of bitter and snappy. But sadly not my cloying rhubarb concoction. My bad. As ever, go with your instincts on the big life questions.

It's not a groovy crowd and doesn't feel pickuppy until the fellow in the inadvisable jumper proceeds to chew off his moderately diverting neighbour's face. For central London it may not be expensive enough, though the cheeky service charge takes the edge off that. However, it does serve proper gin (none of your vodka-drinker's gin here) and Krug by the glass.

Suitably fortified, the Angels and I head back into the Soho night, to get devilish.

3.5 stars

No comments:

Post a Comment