Forza Wine might be a name that slaps you with a hint of turbulent Italian politics. The sort best left out of a drinks column. But a branch of this south London hotspot is now at the National Theatre which, in all its brutalist grey, is far more Soviet by design. Have we a bar for centrists?
The South Bank has been in an unchic and uncool part of town for so long. What on earth is even there? A Brasserie Blanc somewhere under a bridge. A Strada, a Wagamama, each an ailing force. Nowhere really to drink either. It’s mostly stalls for tourists serving warm prosecco and podgy cocktails.
