Cocktails are, of course, a fundamental part of every working week. For if there is no alcoholic reward, what other way is it possible to justify spending 37.5 hours making money for someone else?
This week's cocktail consultation couch was in Purl London. 'Luxury Drinking in the Heart of the Capital.' Not sure if Marylebone's the heart of the capital but anyhow.
Great fun indeed. Set in a basement, made to look like an old speakeasy, a great place to secrete yourself away from prying London eyes, with that person you're not supposed to be seen with. The smoking bucket you see above was not in fact an ashtray gone on fire, but a Mr Hyde's Fixer Upper. Inside, was a potion bottle like so:
Caused me a little consternation to see my friend plunge her hand in to see what liquid nitrogen feels like. Cold water apparently. No harm done.
Next was a Backwards Bellini which was great, save for a mouthful of lavender that made me think I'd swallowed my granny. Finally, a lovely negroni in a retro glass in which a piece of handcut ice clinked pleasingly. At this point, the work part of my brain had been satisfactorily fizzed and dissolved like an Alka Seltzer.
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| Backwards Bellini |
A few weeks ago this might have been the most exciting drinking establishment I'd seen in London, but unfortunately the cooler, sleeker Lounge Bohemia took the edge. In fact, Purl had pilfered several (many) touches from there. Menus hidden in old books, concrete bunker booths, experimental cocktails, including a smoke infused one, even the website looks remarkably similar. Only thing was, they'd overdone the posh, clean furniture and it felt a little too sanitised compared to its Eastern rival. There were no toilets hidden in the walls, no amazing 50s waitresses, no amazing rescued vintage furniture... a little less character overall.
But having said all that, well worth a trip. I imagine there aren't many places like this in the not-so-wild West.
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