It’s a long time since I descended (descended, like underground; like checking out the fire escapes like Jason Bourne, or because I’m just paranoid rather than really a spy) into a dark bar of loud music and bareshouldered couples but I’ve been hanging out in Covent Garden lately and I think that makes me quite cool. Well, cooler than I’ve been for a long time, so probably a little less cool than most… especially as I’m only there for a poetry class.
This was a beautiful bar, like I had forgotten bars could be, like sinking into a black velvet evening. We specifically booked a quiet corner, and even though the music was not really to my liking, it made for an atmospheric backdrop as we read intriguing cocktail menus to candlelight and considered that the date next to us would be going better if ‘he’ stopped talking about himself and his really dull sounding job (should take a poetry class or summat).
Here are some examples of the cocktails: Parsley Daiquiri – probably doesn’t need too much explaining.
And Beetroot Louisianne: beetroot rye, sweet vermouth, Benedictine, salt, peychauds(do you pronounce the ‘e’? The bar staff forgave us either way)
And on the topic of the bar staff.. they clearly loved their job: the crest fallen face that their alternative to a Cranachan Punch (why did no one think of whiskey, oat milk and raspberries before???) was not the most excellent; and the enthusiastic incitements to order cheese dounuts.
We found the corn cakes, crunchy, semi-sweet, flavoursome… mmmm…. actually superior to the cheese donuts.
In summary the drinks were quite good, the food was pretty good, but the experience was one of its kind romantic.
Anyway, while I’m here… it seems a good time to remind readers that Original artwork, paintings and posters of cityscapes with dramatic skies are available on alexpaintings.com
Kitcho is somewhat off the beaten track from Greenwich, beyond even Davy’s wine bar, (in fact virtually Deptford). We were ordering for a friend on a delayed bus, ‘shabu shabu’ she called (via text) but we couldn’t find it on the menu, and when she arrived (and explained that was Japanese hot pot) she said she’d decided that there were probably more specialist places opening up that she would prefer to visit to try shabu shabu anyway.
The staff were incredibly eager to please. Unfortunately this didn’t help avoid a long gap between courses, a very long gap. And we were talking noodles here, not slow cooked nothing.
But the meal started off well with spicy edamame, that we all agreed to order a second round of… and forgot.
But the sashimi seemed flavourless to me, or just sea-tasing, or to be specific a little bit sea tasting but less tasty than the sea. Normally I enjoy sashimi. In the noodle stakes the udon was average, but my beef chilli ramen was delicious.
The stella part of the menu was the simple but elegant cocktails, starting with dragons blood, which looked like this:
And a sweet cocktail that we should have had instead of dessert, but we justified in that we only had teenie tiny mochi (and that hardly counts right?), made up of hennessy cognac, baileys double cream and some other sweet thing. Slightly on the sweet side but if you have a drink for dessert, that justifies all calories… right?