I’m here for drinks but the glazed racks look especially good, I have to say. Here I am at The Dukes honky tonk bar in Highgate, a riff on the bourbon-soaked southern states where cowboy boots thud to the sound of banjos and yee-haws. Barbecue is about to have a moment in London, let me tell you, propelled in part by the sudden and mostly applauded arrival of Interstellar, the Michelin-starred grill concept from Texas that was at The Ned for a time.
The Dukes is less of a media-hyped scene. Though I don’t mean to do the place a disservice. To that end it’s expedient, a longer-standing locale for Londoners who wish to enjoy the plucky brashness of Tennessee and beyond. It’s full of smoky barbecue, silly cocktails and big hats. But the whole reason anyone goes is the music: there are regular country jam sessions, open mic nights; this week Drew Dixon flew in from Nashville to accompany those on the tequila shots and Texas mules (like the Moscow version but with peach liqueur). The music is merited.
