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Monday, 7 April 2014

De Beauvoir Tavern, Haggerston

The Fox and The Haggerston on the other side of Kingsland Road are jumping, but there are few takers for cocktails at DBT when I drag my weary derriere over Dalston way, bitching about how K and C might as well be Kansas now that all the action - ce soir nothwithstanding - is out East. Still, living cheek by Dead Sea mud-massaged jowl with Made In Chelsea's waxed back sack and crack bores (according to one on-the-make minx I know who goes there, perish the thought) has its compensations. Style-wise, I don't feel inadequate. Next to E8's hipster hordes, I look about as on-the-moollah as SW3's answer to Cristiano Ronaldo, over-moisturised nob knob, Ollie Locke the manchild who managed to be upstaged by magnolia emulsion on last season's celeb Big Bro'. De Beauvoir Tavern is the latest watering hole from the peeps behind Cargo and The Redchurch. A long corridor of train buffet carriage proportions, it's a bit of a squeeze by the bar; best to bag a booth to the rear.  The cocktail list is short - although not as short as the wine list if the scant contents of a fridge are it. Treacle and clover club appear alongside house ideas fisticuffs (a Jameson Irish whiskey, Laphroaig and Old Krupnik honey liqueur toddy), and nightcap (a JW Black and cherry brandy Manhattan). Grub boils down to fancy filled rolls -  chicken with hoisin and oyster sauce, vegetarian Wellington with goats cheese and shrooms, and dry-aged red poll beef - fair at a fiver a pop. The cod-Victorian decor is saying Sergeant Pepper's - and lonely heart I stay. There again it is barely the hour at which most locals crawl out of their scratchers on a Sunday. But with a 30-minute taxi ride now more expensive than a return flight to Rome, I'm on an economy drive. With the ordeal of the Overground/ Underground schlep West to face, 8pm is late enough to be out East on a school night.
321 Kingsland Road E8 4DL 7739 3440