LONDON 2012: GOLD BARS

BAR OF THE YEAR:
QuiQuiRiQui http://tinyurl.com/8g4vbpm
London does this kind of bar best (and yes, I know one of its owners is Scandinavian). Fabulous freaks in a stripped-back, trippy Tarantino-esque Mexican porno basement beneath a kebab shop; Tom Jones on the jukebox; messy early morning mash-ups on rare weapon of mass destruction grade super-premium mezcal =  no hangover? Bring it on!

Favourite new uptown girl: 
The Luggage Room http://tinyurl.com/cg9nfxo
You'll need the cash equivalent of a pile of LVs (as in Luncheon Vouchers; ask your granny) to get steaming at this luxury LV (Louis Vuitton) walk-in steamer trunk: quality never comes cheap.

The trend that refuses to die: 
Speakeasies.
But these clandestine cuties are more than forgiven
Evans and Peel: http://tinyurl.com/auj63pm  Underdog: http://tinyurl.com/b3pur7m  Flat P: http://tinyurl.com/cy8uwzo

Dishiest Dalston dive: 
Ruby (don't take your love to town) http://tinyurl.com/ajcubkd

Biggest anti-climax: 

Opium (should have guessed: never liked Yves' perfume much either) http://tinyurl.com/ce2srmq

Hugest erection of the year: 
The Heron Tower, home to Sushisamba and its 'OMG!' (said the gobsmacky girl standing next to me) views of Lilliputian London below http://tinyurl.com/8ecefy5

Worst-dressed crowd of the year: 
Loadsamoney lads are not-so-City-slickers after ten too many 'tails. Yep, it's Sushisamba again.

The if-it's-good-enough-for-Michael-Fassbinder pub of the year award:

The Sebright Arms http://tinyurl.com/agwadbn

Gay shame of the year: 
Blitz http://tinyurl.com/anxn2oy

Wow... or wank? Decide for yourself: 
And Co http://tinyurl.com/9phzbjm

Most unlikely (anthropological) fun night out:
Bodo's Schloss http://tinyurl.com/a8y8wek

Most memorable cocktail:
If I liked it, I ordered ten - ergo, I can't remember it...or anything, come to that, until the ambulance showed up. Pretty much everything on the Gorgeous boys' menu at St James floated my boat. This much, I do remember. http://tinyurl.com/ac23j23

Most asked question of the year:
 'What's your favourite bar?' If I really must spend my own money, let it be at
Happiness Forgets  http://tinyurl.com/ak37xfs

Enough already: 
cocktails and burger/hotdog joint overkill; faffy molecular mixology; bubble tea; scotch eggs; door whores with more attitude than at Studio 54'- despite standing guard over a not-all-that Soho sweat-BOX; pop-ups - all pooped out now; charcuterie share platters; palate-cleanser flavoured water; cocktail lists that are a longer read than Doctor Zhivago; elderflower anything; who-cares Foursquare; edible gold flake; shampagne cocktails: prosecco ain't Pommery;  Aperol spritz; Hendrick's gin; twee, tweedy Chap Olympiad types; pork scratchings -  the ultimate dental damn!

And Co, Soho

A poster above the entrance to this new quasi-clandestine cellar says ‘I LIKE IT. WHAT IS IT?’ London’s newest 'drinking experience', ‘And Co’; that’s what. I’m seated at a granite-topped island counter. Behind its basin and taps, whatever spirits contained within known only to staff, myriad decanters and bottled potions are neatly stacked on shelves in wood and glass display cabinets. Mine host/ resident barman/ professor expounds ‘the concept.’ Suddenly, I’m 12 again, in chemistry class - only, this time, held in what feels like a display kitchen at  Magnet's Kensington High Street showroom. In this boffin's dark subterranean lab (the latest wheeze from the chaps who own Soho's Graphic bar) , brand identity is taboo. Strategic advertising and cunning marketing are the enemies of individual choice - or sum such cant, is the message being preached here, I think. In truth, I've zoned out, transfixed by my guru's strange Scouse/Indonesian accent and uncanny resemblance to a Thunderbirds puppet. Together, hand-in-hand, we're on a quest. Tonight, I am to be introduced to my own personal gin Jesus. But first there's a Ron L. Hubbard-esque multiple choice quiz to wade through. I’m left to ponder a lengthy list of tasting notes grouped by spirit, flavour and style: ‘complex and oaky; ‘fresh and zesty’; hmm, pretentious and poncey? Wearying of Prof’s protracted probing, I’m fast becoming one V restless paying guinea pig. ‘Tanqueray 10, Beefeater 24 and Berry Brothers No.3 all work for me,’ I say, growing desperate. I'm now so gagging for a drink, neat turps would do. Patience, child! Presently, an utterly exquisite dry martini, all ‘weighty viscous mouth feel, liquorice, slight stone fruit sweetness’ and yadda yadda yadda-ness is delivered in exchange for £13 (well, £6.50 actually; there's 50% during & Co's soft opening period). ‘I LIKE IT. WHAT IS IT?’ Prof’ won’t say; presumably, lest I cheat on him and order similar elsewhere. Thus, I am forever his. Cunning marketing, indeed.

22 Great Marlborough Street, W1F 7HU 7437 4106 http://centralandco.com