Suggestion is the thing, isn’t it? So much more seductive than out-and-out saying something. A flash in the eyes, a tilt of the head. We’re not talking ill-advisable fire emojis here. Take the Gothic Bar, where opening hours are kept to “till late”, and “until a little later”. Granted, hardly the first to do it, but when a friend is fretting if there’s time for another nightcap, it’s an enjoyable thing to be able to say, “well of course, tonight they’re open a little later.”
Seduction is the stock and trade here. The name is a hint as to its style — this is romance in the gothic mould, which is to say the mould Dracula used, all impeccable manners and candlelight. I should point out that no one here will bite your neck and drain the blood, although the morning after I admittedly did wake up feeling like the undead. Still, picture it: a 150-year-old vaulted room of great stone carvings, of gold leaf and velvet, of nooks and crannies. When the night draws in, it is midwinter in a castle, no matter the season. Leaves move in a ghost wind. As do waiters, gliding over unbidden at the sight of a finished drink.
Which brings us neatly onto what particularly easy drinks these are to finish. True, I find few drinks difficult to finish (sometimes when they’re set on fire, but I can still usually manage to extinguish things fairly swiftly) — but even my friend, who presents as a paragon of virtue, was managing to rattle through them; bar manager Jack Porter is a talent. Unusually, eau de vie is the thing here, which feels apt; so much is enlivening. It is used both seriously and with a gleeful sense of silliness: the former, sprayed as the garnish for martinis as potent and propelling as petrol; as the latter, in a joyful bit of childishness called the Bloomsbury Club. In this, it’s added to gin and raspberry syrup, then topped with coconut and white chocolate foam. And while it might not be exactly my thing — traditionally, I keep my trifle consumption strictly to Christmas at mum’s — I like that, despite moody surrounds, there is light here. Sometimes fun is all you need.
Still for those who do like drinks that flood the brain and render the parts a little useless, there are the lethal ones: the Omens Warning (scotch, Campari, amaro montenegro, a little touch of banana), which tastes like an oak-panelled library; the Diablo’s Descent (tequila, yellow tomato, sage leaf and chipotle wine, agave syrup, soda, spritz of olive distillate), which rather describes itself, and the Thirsty Gargoyle (apricot brandy, sloe gin, lime, hint of cinnamon), which you might say rather described me. We had a riff on a bloody pickleback — a Bloody Mary with pickle juice, which we took a shot of. “You know,” I announced, with conviction, “this stuff stops hangovers.” Such confidence was misplaced. I should point out the gorgeous service, which must be down to the talents of general manager Emma Underwood. Oh, I could go on and on again. But then you’d think I was telling you to go. And I’m not; I’m just suggesting it.
Cocktails from £14. St Pancras Renaissance Hotel, NW1 2AR, midlandgranddiningroom.com
