Silverleaf isn’t really geared up towards spontaneity. Or impulsivity, come to think of it. For one thing, there’s a dress code, something increasingly rare in London, especially in more modern establishments. “Smart slash elegant” is the order of the day.
Tricky for me, then, a man who would happily wear a tracksuit daily until the weather dictates the need for football shorts. And yet here I am in Silverleaf on a midweek evening, gazing at the illuminated bar, stocked to the hilt — doubly so thanks to a cleverly positioned mirror — feeling mightily underdressed. But I had been welcomed up despite being the most lost of lambs.
My intent, a relatively aimless post-dinner drink on the way home from Whyte’s in faraway Hackney (excellent, but not cheap). This is Liverpool Street, every bit a hinterland between the City (no thanks) and Shoreditch (no thanks again). Call it Gherkin territory. Duck & Waffle and Sushisamba are nearby. This place isn’t any old place, but a third-floor space and a wisened extension — in a separate building — to the five-star Pan Pacific across One Bishopsgate Plaza.
Silverleaf is a moody bar of precision, of meticulous imbibement, where concept is all. The place was designed by Tom Dixon, whose skill with lighting is tantalising. Matching it, the cocktail list is a stunner.
One option calls for Tanqueray 10, mixed with watermelon, vermouth, and sake. Potent indeed. Another, Bruxo X mezcal with hibiscus, guajillo chilli, and house-made verdant. These, by the way, for £16, a price irrepressibly reasonable given their conception and the quality of the spirits used. It’s high-level stuff. I have a Manhattan. Bourbon, perfect, on the rocks, cherry. I’m getting on a bit and becoming set in my ways. It is outstanding, perfectly made and promptly served, the hefty thrum of music setting quite the scene.
About me are fashionable professionals, first daters, second daters, groups who may or may not continue onto Heron Tower. Not that they need to. Silverleaf is open until 2am, with snacks until midnight — I would have had a soft shell crab slider had I not eaten an hour before — and a place of refuge in a towering part of the city.
Turns out spontaneity and late nights are welcome anywhere. Just be polite to the doorman.
