The Gibson, Clerkenwell

Based on his wife and her equally comely sisters, published in Life magazine from the late 1890s onwards, artist Charles Dana Gibson’s iconic sketches of ‘The Gibson Girl’ defined America’s idealised vision of Belle Époque beauty. Around the same time - possibly in response to a challenge from the artist to improve on the traditional Dry Martini recipe - a New York barman substituted a pickled onion for the customary olive and The Gibson cocktail was born. You’ll find it (made with a selection of bespoke-pickled onions and pickles, no less!) and various classy twists on the same theme (such as legendary Scots-born barkeep Harry McElhone’s 1922 absinthe-laced Some Moth Cocktail) behind frosted glass windows, in the candlelit gloaming of this cute conversion of a Victorian corner tap-house from Marian Beke (previously at Nightjar) and Rusty Cerven (ditto The Connaught). An adventurous list has plenty of interest for gin refuseniks: Voodoo Rye, a pepper-infused Bulleit, Cajun BBQ syrup, melon puree, lemon and sweet basil, root beer mule, for instance. Monkey Kong (roast edamame-infused Monkey Shoulder whisky with mangosteen, rambutan and various sweet and sour flavourings is one of several complex and intriguing experiments that look to Asia now - as opposed to America, then - at this new Clerkenwell sweet spot, as good a gaff as any, hereabouts, in which to get nicely pickled.

44 Old Street EC1V 9AQ 7608 2774 www.thegibsonbar.london

Review first published on www.squaremeal.co.uk

Bourne & Hollingsworth Buildings, Clerkenwell

Two Fitzrovia bars to the good, the owners of Bourne & Hollingsworth and Reverend J.Simpson have added a bigger, more ambitious, third off Exmouth Market. Like Derry and Toms, and Swan and Edgar, Bourne and Hollingsworth was originally the name of one of London's many double-barrelled department stores that in the latter's case, was on its last legs around the same period as this bar's mismatched skip-refugee furniture was fashionable: the mid-1970s. BHB is done out like the sort of Surrey wine bar one of that decade's great TV fixtures might have hung out in with her Rotary Club cronies, sipping Cherry Heering and sneering about a neighbour's ghastly common baby blue Ford Capri. That's no bad thing: The Good Life's Margo Leadbetter's style is bang on the current fashion zeitgeist. There's much else to like here; not least a handsome sit-up, cocktail bar, a chintzy Homebase pot plant-heavy conservatory/ dining area and floorboards painted light-bouncing white, always flattering to the sort of London bar flies whose complexions are a touch Gak Wan. The opening party cocktails we are served are fair-to-girly: port flower stinger; cider rose (apple and blackberry shrub stirred with cider brandy, charged with prosecco). Blokier stuff to try next time - for, unlike some recent lame launches I've attended, there will be a next time -  includes rum and plum (Santa Theresa 1796, prune vermouth and bitters). A posh pubby menu that has mint crusted cannon of lamb with ratatouille (not exactly 1970s pricing at £20), and Caribbean pork belly, sweet potato puree and plantain beignets bears investigation. The bar snacks we try are hit and miss: crispy bacon and potato maki rolls with horseradish cream strange, but strangely addictive; red bell pepper and thyme cake, whatever!; coronation chicken wrap with avocado relish the sort of outré buffet one-upmanship your aunt in Esher might have once served to a soundtrack of Demis Roussos.  
42 Northampton Road EC1R 0HU 3174 1156 www.bandhgroup.com/buildings/

Negroni Bar, Smithfield

Owner Russell Norman has made a silk purse out of a sow’s ear at Polpo Smithfield, his latest Venetian bàcaro a Londra. He's turned an old meat market storage facility - where sow, cow and sundry bloody carcasses once dangled forlornly - into a bijou bar. Don’t be squeamish: Mr Muscle has wiped all trace of Miss Piggy from the room’s original Victorian glazed white tiles. That said, I’m not much for getting slaughtered in a windowless cellar whose main feature - dinky antique carved wood bar aside - is a slightly menacing door leading to what I pray is only a kitchen beyond. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre springs to mind and, unless your father’s name is Josef Fritzl, it’s unlikely you’d linger long in such poky surroundings. Still, for an evening ‘ombra’ (glass of vino) or a Negroni before dining upstairs, I commend it. The Negroni was born in 1919, when the eponymous Florentine count asked a barman to pimp up his usual Americano cocktail, replacing its soda with gin. Here, Sipsmith or Beefeater 24 are deemed the perfect partner to Campari and red vermouth - specify Carpano Antica Formula for optimum enjoyment - in Polpo’s £7 version of the classic. Other Italian jobs available include Aperol spritz, Henderson (white wine and Campari), and Negroni Sbagliato. Literally, a ‘wrong’ Negroni; prosecco replaces gin in this currently molto a la moda alternative aperitif.   

Polpo, 2 Cowcross Street, EC1M 6D 7250 0034 http://polpo.co.uk 

The Blacksmith and the Toffeemaker, Clerkenwell

Named after an old Jake Thackray ditty (ask your grandad), what was formerly the Queen Boadicea gets one of its two stars for ‘exquisitely lovely golden ale’ Thwaites Wainwright - one of four on tap - as well as fair everyday-drinking plonk, a dozen malt whiskies including various Dalmore, quality gins and a passable stab at currently modish retro home-made pub grub. Thumbs up for quail egg encased in moist black pudding, macaroni cheese, and a rogerable rabbit ‘pie’ (a pasty, actually) with buttered greens (£8.50). Thumbs down for a limp burger bun on the wrong side of fresh. The reinvented Clerkenwell boozer owes its second star to the English rose who serves us. Charm personified, the Goldsmith’s art student is the girlfriend of one of owners, it transpires - more of a toffeemaker than a blacksmith judging by her fella’s gangly physique, I'd say. Beyond this, I struggle to feel the love - much as I want to, if only for her sake.  But the decor! To original Edwardian cough lozenge brown glazed tiles, add phlegm grey paint, grim grubby utilitarian 1950s furnishings, banquette that looks to have been savaged from the canteen in On The Buses, random tat, a dull poster showing the bar's location that's slipped in its frame and Ceausescu-era wallpaper at 3 Romanian leu the lot. Taken together, I'm reminded of the sort of ten grand Bucharest bungalows featured on the one episode of the property show that does not make you long for A Place In The Sun. Maybe Rom-commie chic is big at Goldsmith’s this year? Maybe Friday’s ‘Glue’ DJ sessions, when the place is ‘buzzing with journalism and music students’, will inject some oomph? Maybe.

 294 John Street EC1V 4A theblacksmithandthetoffeemaker.co.uk

St. Ali, Clerkenwell

The initial hit, the toasty feelgood aroma of coffee beans, fresh ground in a gargantuan mill, lifts the senses the minute you fall into this daytime cafe/ canteen/ wine bar a few doors down from Giant Robot at what was once a proto-Clerkenwell bar before it bit the Dust.  I'm also liking its casual pine and brick refectory-style pose and a feature living garden wall. Easy-drinking pocket-money-priced wines include  frisky summer berry Californian merlot (£16), spunky  Aussie pinot grigio and, from  by the glass offer of ten, a patrician rioja crianza at £7.10 a pop. Packing a punch at 7.3% ABV, Southwark-brewed Kernel IPA is one of various ales to try. Gwynnie Paltrow-friendly cereals and fruit-based items are part of an impressive build-your-own all-day brekkie offer that includes kippers, French toast and corn fritters with eggs, spinach, halloumi and kasundi. Fresh grilled sardines, caramelised sweet potato tart with herb salad and rib-eye toasted sourdough sandwich with aïoli (£12.50) are part of the lunchtime offer for peripatetic iPads, tablets, MacBook Pros and old school types with their noses buried in The Guardian. In Clerkenwell, that's standard issue.  
27 Clerkenwell Rd EC1 http://stali.co.uk/uk/

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Craft Beer Co, Clerkenwell

In groups of four they arrive, all sweaty anticipation: paunchy geeks with ratty grey ponytails, who look like they spend daylight hours in darkened rooms playing Dragon Age 2 and listening to prog rock. Latter day pilgrims, they’ve come to worship at a new temple of Dionysus, Clerkenwell’s Craft Beer Co. ‘Look, Dora! They’ve got Magic Rock Dark Arts’ gasps a Hobbit to his Hogwarthian Miriam Margoyles-ish missus, herself a practitioner of the dark arts, I’d wager. Dora coos fondly over countless spouts spewing Cotleigh Seahawk, Redemption Hotspur and other ales I’ll presently come to know. Bottles of Cigar City Humidor, Blithering Idiot, Smuttynose Porter and Gorbals Affyerheid (or did I hallucinate that?)  are pressed on me by simpatico staff out to make converts to their beery cause. I'm given Clerkenwell Lager , 'brewed for us by a sort of wandering Danish gypsy.' And a definite cut above Carlsberg too, I say. ‘Try this beauty’ urges a Merlin look-alike proffering me a sample phial of Dresden stout. ‘It tastes like smoky bacon.’ And it does; the 85p saved on a packet of crisps, I’ll put towards a pork and black pudding ‘hand raised’ pie. The range of craft ales, allegedly the biggest in Britain, is astonishing. So too, a selection of premium bourbon and Scotland's finest. I canter on dutifully, beer-blinkered to those appealing distractions. Who knew ale could be so expensive? At £25, does Horny Devil throw in a free lap-dance? Seriously though, I'd urge you to make strides for this fantastic reconfigured corner boozer... and be sure to wear an elasticated waistband if the amber stuff floats your bloat.  

82 Leather Lane EC1 7430 1123 http://www.facebook.com/thecraftbeerco

Giant Robot, Clerkenwell

Having lost The East Rooms to an inferno in March, Jonathon (Milk & Honey) Downey replicates his deceased dining club’s quirky 1950’s/ post industrial interior at buzzy new all-day bar/ deli/ diner, at summer 2010 hit, Giant Robot. The sharply-executed Kennedy-era, downtown Brooklyn tribute is pulling local creatives in numbers with its Italo-American cooking a list of punchy cocktails that reference Madison Ave (New York sour) & Rome’s via Veneto (piazza limonata, one of several Martini coolers). The kitchen’s ‘obsession’ with fresh quality ingredients pays off in crisp crostini topped with goat's cheese, anchovy & ‘eggplant’, eccentrically priced at 94p each; crunchy red chicory, walnut & gorgonzola salad; glistening ruby red seared tuna medallions on a pillow of fennel & coriander; fresh grilled sardines with authentic gremolata. Tony Soprano might prefer more muscular grub: guanciale (pig’s cheek bacon) on olive & spring onion mash; salt beef with beetroot & poached egg; winter warmer cotechino (Modena pork sausage), pancetta, lentils, onion, carrots & salsa verde or a selection of pasta dishes & meatballs either as a main served with spaghetti, or as so-now bite-sized ‘sliders’ in mini buns. Puds are gelataria joy: affogato, flaming baked Alaska & ice cream sandwich. Arrive between 5 &  7pm & enjoy the ‘staff meal’ for a fiver, one of several cute touches. Wines are mostly Italian:  Frascati, by the carafe, about right at £13.50. Dishes arrive simultaneously - cue an irksome table ballet to be choreographed. A slightly too tricksy format proves initially discombobulating. This aside, fresh food & funky ambience justify Robot’s giant following .  

45 Clerkenwell Rd EC1 7065 6810

   

http://www.gntrbt.com 

Pop Up Pirates, Clerkenwell (CLOSED)

The door gorilla growls ‘ That’ll be £5, gents. Gotta search you first, tho.’ From the queue behind, a voice offers its owner’s slant on a party of hefty hens poured into dildo pink Lycra leotards, leg-warmers and glittery Stetsons - a look that’s more ghee than Glee. ’Them mingers’ll pay you to frisk ‘em, mate.’ Welcome to ‘80s night at  Pop-Up  Pirates, a new club-bar where once stood prototype Clerkenwell lounge, Dust. The interior, from the crew responsible for The Queen of Hoxton, references the area’s traditional links with printing. 3D letters and garish daubed slogans rule. Pow! Bam! Splat!  I've walked into a Batman comic. The early-doors, early-20s punters have largely ignored the Sergio Tacchini shell-suit & gold rope chain dress code in favour of New Look’s sale rail. Still, it seems the sort of people whose outfits the Shoxditch style mafia wouldn’t wipe their clenched bahookeys on are more about having a laugh than looking hilarious - sorry, edgy. Refreshing! We order dry martinis, useful at £6.50. The lardette hens neck Cherry Popper, Don’t Go To Dalston (as if!), Mai Turn and Screwface. Like wibbly raspberry mousses (mooses?) they wobble to their Mums’ fave disco oldies while other dancers attempt to revive the hula hoop craze (the plastic kind as opposed to the potato snacky kind).  The Pointer Sisters' Automatic segues into a Shalamar track, my cue to leave. In truth, the ‘80s are not necessarily better The Second Time Around.

27 Clerkenwell Rd EC1 7490 5120

Look Mum No Hands! Clerkenwell

‘Look Mum, No Hands!’ is the boast of tykes on trikes everywhere. It’s also the handle for a new bar-cum-cafe aimed at cyclists. Decked out like a student union circa the time Belgian legend, Eddy Merckx, was dominating the Tour de France - clue, The Pushbike Song by pop footnotes, The Mixtures, was riding high in the charts -  the community-based project allows you to get a fix of caffeine, or something stronger, while in-house spanner monkeys fix your derailleurs. Sipping chardonnay in a cute courtyard, away from a main room currently in thrall to live coverage of a peloton of meaty Lycra-clad thighs pedaling furiously through the streets of Roubaix, Tourcoing or some similarly pedestrian vile French ville, I recount the incident that ended any chance of me ever wearing a yellow jersey that wasn’t designed by Paul Smith in finest four ply cashmere. Alcohol and bikes just don’t mix. After a couple of shandies, playing cat and mouse with white van man, I landed ar**-up on the asphalt. Trust me, there is no greater disincentive to cycling London’s lethal streets than having metal removed from an eyeball popped out of its socket and placed on your cheek, while you remain fully conscious in A&E. So if you arrive here on two wheels, stick to fruit smoothies!   

49 Old Street EC1 7253 1025

http://www.lookmumnohands.com