Author results: Alex Vitlin
An oft-had discussion in my house goes like this:
"Seriously, there are no bars here like American bars."
"I know, where it's all dark, and you sit at the bar and just shoot the shit."
"Exactly - let's just open one."
"Well why not?" Etc.
That conversation has now been shot.
"It's like if Thailand made a pasta sauce." This was by way of a compliment, perhaps abstracted, so enamoured was a drinking companion of the Bloody Mary at Bloodwood. I tried it: it was incredible, and I'm not usually a huge fan of the drink. So, while she writhed and poured forth proclamations of love for the cocktail artist behind the concoction, we got stuck into some food and wine.
I was down in Pyrmont to check out a new joint which opened with zero fanfare and no net presence, which is a rarity. And it was good, but being only a week old, they wanted to stay under the radar. Because we're not entirely ruthless scoop-whores I had to respect that.* Somewhat deflated, I kicked rocks back towards Fernside.
Eau De Vie has had some top billing this week, most of which has highlighted its speakeasy style. While in Chicago, as most tourists do, I drank at the Green Mill, putatively Al Capone's favourite speakeasy during Prohibition. Here, you paid the doorman, made sure you shut up during the band, and didn't stray far from whiskey, gin or Guinness - legacy traditions from a bygone era.
When you think about it, it's kind of bizarre that King Street has so few legitimate bars. The plethora of restaurants is a given, there's a wealth of middling-to-good cafes, some reasonable pubs, but an absolute dearth of any cosy bars - with the possible exceptions of Madame Fling Flong and maaaaybe Kuleto's.
There's a recipe thus: room of bare bricks, minimal installation, vintage or otherwise-recovered furniture, correct lighting, irreverent decoration, food and drinks. Chingalings kinda did it, Pocket took the same approach, and now 2204 is in on the act. For the record, I like it.
This little recess on the Addison Road is commendable for a bunch of things, not least of which is the decision to open on Addison Road - a delightful thoroughfare, but not quite as commercially viable as, say, Crown Street might be for a cafe.
A lot of things can disappoint your family. The time you passed out on the front path at 7am - for instance - or the time you drank bore water. For me, it was my inability to embrace eating LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE THING THAT COMES OUT OF THE OCEAN. Well ha! I ate a killer fish chowder at THE COMMONS Local Eating House, so look out family Christmas.
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