69 Colebrooke Row
London
N1 8AA
Kina Lillet
A bad start.
The first time I passed through the unassuming glass doors at 69 Colebrooke Row was for a rendez-vous with an old flame. I was reluctant to see him again, given the amusingly disastrous nature of our split, but consented provided that he agreed to the following terms: 1) not a word about our relationship would pass his lips and 2) we met at Colebrooke Row.
An amusing story.
I hadn’t even had a chance to digest my surroundings when he began to proffer a post-mortem relationship analysis and apology. Needless to say, I wasn’t interested and so for him, the evening ended badly, early, and in floods of tears. I, on the other hand, parked myself at the diminutive bar and began to drink my way through the entire menu. Though I didn’t make it quite to the end that first evening, I’ve subsequently sipped every drink on the menu.
There’s something about a lone lady sitting at the bar that softens the heart of even the steeliest of bartenders, so I was well looked after. But it wasn’t until I proved my dedication to the palette by deducing that the orange blossom flavouring used in their Almond Ramos – a crazy concoction based on the Ramos gin fizz but made with orange blossom and almond, thickened to a whipped cream consistency with nitrous oxide canisters – was the same flavouring used in Ladurée’s delicious orange blossom macaroons, that the world of Tony Conigliaro was my oyster. Well, almost. Due to teething problems with the fabrication of the shells, I didn’t actually get to sample Tony’s take on the Prairie Oyster, but it sounded inspired: a tomato sphere “yolk” floating in a spiced vodka cocktail, slurped down all in one go.
To compensate for the sheer awfulness of regaling me with tales of such marvels without actually allowing me to taste one, my friendly bartender pulled a bottle from behind the bar and whispered, “you must try this”. “This” was one of the most intense flavours to ever pass my lips: a house-distilled horseradish vodka. It was like drinking liquid wasabi. Colebrooke Row uses this essence of horseradish to construct the definitive Bloody Mary. And I know my Bloody Marys. The composite parts are arranged neatly in front of me – the horseradish vodka, house made celery salt, house bitters and an incredibly potent black pepper tincture – before being mixed with thick tomato juice. Like a puppy is not just for Christmas, a CR Bloody Mary is not just for brunch. This drink is far too dangerous for Eggs Florentine.
While the menu changes seasonally, staples remain: CR’s take on Campari and Soda adds a dash of grapefruit bitters and their Bellini pairs green apple puree with almond blossom and prosecco. One of my favourite drinks on the menu’s current incarnation, the Spitfire, is made with CR house Cognac and Crème de Peche. It drinks like a smoky rainbow. Sounds ludicrous. Tastes delicious.
Sitting at this bar, you really come to appreciate the theatrics of good cocktail making. The dry ice martini is particularly diverting. On a more recent trip, my companion and I went out for a cigarette and came back to find our drinks overflowing with smoke onto the bar. It’s difficult to remember what they tasted like, to be honest. I was far too excited by the curlicues of smoke running through my fingers.
While I haven’t perched at every bar in London nor supped every cocktail in the Big Book of Booze, I have done enough of both to know that 69 Colebrooke Row is something special.
A happy ending, then.
Nice writing. Great bar.
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