Compagnie Des Vins Surnaturels, Covent Garden

When I worked in the fashion biz - long before 'designer' became a dirty word - faddy colleagues at Ab Fab PR guru Lynne Franks' office on Long Acre would hit Neal's Yard for whatever Vogue decreed was the on-trend lunch du jour. Macrobiotic mung bean curry and organic spirulina and shark sperm smoothies were not my bag: back when my liver was in its still-pink prime, lunch was invariably liquid, strong and Tanqueray flavoured. Well, if you faced long afternoon photo shoots blowing smoke up the scrawny arses of Naomi, Elle and Linda wannabes with the IQ of one alfalfa sprout between them, you'd mainline martinis at noon too. I've avoided Neal's Yard ever since - immune to its Goopy Gwynnie faux hippy appeal. The arrival of Compagnie des Vins Surnaturels could reverse that aversion. "Vins surnaturels?" I'll leave aside my Toulousain pal's diatribe about the term - dismissed by the no-taureau Gascon as 'un meaningless marketing mot' , a conceit dreamt up by pretentious Parisian coqs. If there's one thing that drives me nuts about my French chums, it's their endless après-diner polemic about matters that matter not a jot to me. So, moving swiftly along....smartly kitted out in regulation Elle Decoration St Germain chic, this dishy duplex (surnaturel/ fine) wine bar is the latest Left Bank import from l'équipe that brought you hip late-night Chinatown noodle, Experimental Cocktail Club. Experimentation does not come cheap here: we're talking Puligny-Montrachet not Piat d'Or budgets, mes amis. Fortunately, sommelier Julia Oudill’s savvy pairings - e.g. crispy peppery bébé squid with a stellar Furmint Tokaji (£63), or a sublime St. Joseph (£58) with quail egg and truffled ham ‘posh’ croque - preclude expensive mistakes. Piedmont ice cider with nicely ripe'n'whiffy Époisses is an inspired match, while crumbly Comté and a 2006 Arbois vin jaune en Spois - think Alpine sherry - from the Jura scores top marks from tonight's foodie-drinkie jury.
I spend much of my working hours necking cocktails (yeh, life's a bitch) but if my own moolah is to be parted with, I invariably prefer a bottle of best Bourgogne, Barolo or Bordeaux. As Compagnie des Vins Surnaturels' gorge' list of global grapeage is guaranteed to give any oenophile a Beauner, it ain't milkshakes that'll bring this boy back to the Yard.

8 - 10 Neal’s Yard WC2H 9DP 7734 7737 http://www.cvssevendials.com

Opium, Chinatown

Eric Yu (Punk, The Social, Salvador and Amanda) and drinks industry guru Dré Masso's joint new cocktail joint/ dim sum parlour, Opium, invites comparison with that other talked-up late-night Chinatown noodle,The Experimental Cocktail Club. Both bars inhabit the upper floors of creaky old townhouses, their unmarked doors designed to foil all but those in the loop. Although it's possible to simply rock up at either, advance reservations are a better bet; while another trait shared by both bars, is pricing as steep as the staircases that lead to them - an ascent perfumed by joss sticks as cloying as YSL's Opium at Opium. The rarified cocktails at ECC are arguably worth their 'ouch!' cost but my date, a bar world bigwig, is agog at Opium's ambitiously priced menu.  My first choice, gin and blood orange cooler Laughing Buddha, is a fine sundowner, and attractively garnished too; even if with Bombay Sapphire sold at £21 a litre at the end of my street as its base, Buddha should be laughing all the way to the bank. My date is not so lucky with Kung Fu Whizz. Served in a prosaic Chinese teacup, he's not keen on its mix of flat-ish Champagne, parsnip puree, black malt vinegar and honey, claiming it has all the appeal of the old Chinese Commie Party Chairman's Maoth-rinse. I try it. Bleurgh! The last time I tasted anything this peculiar, didn't I come round, dazed, in a Bucharest gutter, minus both my kidneys? For this liquid experiment, dispensed from Opium's apothecary, a Hong Kong Heston-style lab complete with chef/ mixologist's table, you'll pay around £15 - amateurish service from a sweet French chap who mightn't cut la moutarde chez ECC - included. While ECC favours Rive Gauche boho chic, the decor in the section of the sprawling pile we are shown to suggests a 1930s drug-fug knocking shop crossed with the waiting room of the Kowloon clap clinic you'd subsequently need to attend. That's not necessarily an unflattering comparison; you'll meet all sorts of lovely, interesting people (albeit possibly, temporarily, off-limits if you're in the mood for romance) at your local STD lounge. As for Opium's lounges,  I rather like this funky Shanghai shonkytonk's various quaint charms - viz its surreal loo experience (and, no; I'm not telling). Steaming, plump, reasonably priced at around £7 for four, dim sum presently appear - delivered, according to Frenchy (and sundry media), via dumb waiter from Dumplings Legend directly below. Ho Lee Fook! Would that be Dumplings Legend as featured in yesterday's Evening Standard? I'll draw a veil over the reported matter, but if you're squeamish, best not visit http://tinyurl.com/d2nmogv . All I can usefully add is, whatever our dim sum's provenance, they were tasty enough and my guts suffered absolutely no ill-effects: the only slight sickener, the bill. Drinks industry legend date got landed with that one, poor dumpling. Some are raving about the place; others point to another of Masso's cocktails, The Emperor's New Clothes. Put on your cheongsam and decide for yourself, me old China.
15 Gerrard Street W1 7734 7276 http://opiumchinatown.com/