Lounge Bohemia: Great, but lose the Wallpaper*

In this city, the quest for the new and exciting drinking experience never has to end. For when one amazing bar closes, another opens.

Ok so Lounge Bohemia's been there a year already but it takes time to get to know about tiny concrete bunkers like this. I'd seen it mentioned before, but we finally decided we had to go after meeting the owner (I think?) at the History of Food event (that I'll eventually get round to writing something about).

 

My 'Tree Sap' came glued to a small tree stump which was interesting - and heavy. I liked it but Michael thought it was incredibly sweet. He just wanted to show off I think because he's gone a whole week without having sugar in his coffee. To prove that he no longer needs sugar, he had the Beet Punch, which, rather than an injury proffered by a root vegetable, was a really quite delicious concoction of beetroot and, can't remember, some other stuff. A friend said it tasted like something you drink at the gym. Not sure what kind of gyms he goes to.

Some really lovely touches in there. Loved the menus inside the old books, the giant plastic water jugs on all the tables, the 40s/50s style waitresses, toilets hidden inside the walls, bar staff that aren't afraid to take the piss out of you. Oh and not forgetting the little canapes you get on arrival. Minimalist to say the least but really tasty and free (our friends paid for theirs and were a bit upset to have paid £3.95 for what were more make fun of your bouches than amuse bouches). Still quality produce though. 

In one dangerous moment the sight of a magazine rack holding nothing but Monocle and Wallpaper magazines made me cringe and threatened to burst my Bohemian bubble. It was just so at odds with the name. Completely ruined my image of Karl Marx sitting in the curvy concrete cave-like corner penning a thought-bending, movement-launching paper. The rest of the furniture (bar that curvy hanging metal light that surely must die out some day) I would quite happily have in my house. If I had a house.

Magazines aside, a fantastic find, def going back (when I've eaten at Pizza East first). After spending two and a half hours nursing one cocktail, I feel I owe them a return visit.