Pub Crawling

I went out on a pubcrawl last week with an awesome buddy of mine. Codename Owlbear is a giant of a man who has the mere definition of "An empty barrel" inside him, only used to accumulate vast quantities of alcohol. My theory is he needs it to produce bellowing laughter and disdain for most of humanity. Seriously, who can blame him?

He's also a bit touchy (hurrr) with physical contact.

We started the pub crawl in an Irish bar called Waxy o'Connors near Leicester square. It's a great and vast bar, littered with quaint Irish paraphernalia. "Druidic" Codename Owlbear called it. And one can see his point there as the large (and fake we found out) tree dominates the centre of the pub. Combined with brown tones it creates this weird earthy feel.

And that's as far as the drivel about the design goes since I'm not an interior decorator, and neither do I care much for it.

The next trip took us to Chinatown, where situated among Dim Sum bars and windows covered in mummified ducks, gives way to De Hems. De Hems is a Dutch bar, and don't ask us what the connection is with Chinatown as it makes as much sense as a bacon shop in Jerusalem.

De Hems is a great bar though if you're looking for Dutch or Belgian speciality beers. And as you may know, Belgian speciality beers usually come in 8 to 10 degrees so they offer a nice kick. I had a Kwak, a quaint little beer in a glass what is likely even more quaint. Unfortunately it didn't come in one of those wooden holsters. Probably on purpose since otherwise I would have gladly given it a new home. Codename Bourbon is an alcoholic magpie you see. 

I recommended the Chimay Blue to my vastly superior drinking buddy. A Chimay is a Belgian trappist, a sort of dark authentic ale and one of the best of its kind as well. A drink of depth and subtle favour. With it's 8.5 degrees also not a drink for the weak.

The prices in the bar are reasonable as well. Still expensive, but not as bad as you would think for imported beer. Dutch food, although bordering on greasy insanity, has some really great beer snacks; all deep fried and full of cholesterol. Allow me to recommend you readers the Bitterballs in particular.

We also met some French bloke, who managed to pack all of his local stereotypes in one gay package. It was so remarkable that I offered him a white napkin. I was told his kind has great affinity in its use: both in war, as behind closed doors. Codename Bugbear seemed quite amused by that fact. Although he may have just been admiring the well-pronounced bosom of a nearby patron.

After De Hems we visited yet another Irishly themed bar called the Toucan. For those who can't place the link already (You may now drown your head in a bucket of the black stuff if that's the case) It's obviously a guiness bar. The pub packs a good guiness and certainly some of the best I've drank in London. But having said that ... I can't think of anything else to add in its advantage either. 

After all those traditional bars we kicked it up a notch and decided to visit two of London's nearby Rock and Metal pubs. The first one was called the Intrepid Fox. It's the reanimated corpse of a previous bar with the same name. A seedy and shambling shadow of its former namesake's glory. A bar so seedy, you probably have a one in ten chance exiting the bar with herpes. The usual tatted up tiny barmaid was there as well, I barely recognized her at first since for once she was not dancing on top of the bar like a 10-year old girl trying to please daddy. The bar also happened to be visited that day by a fourty-to-fifty year-old typical English bloke .... with vampire teeth. It would've been freaking hilarious if it wasn't so damn pathetic and embarrassing. I can imagine the discussion at home:

"Where is daddy mommy?" "

"Daddy is just being a ponce looking for some emo arse atm sweety" 

Even IF you would happen to be a vampire at that age with those looks, it could only be some form of sadistic punishment of a rather cynic God. I'll have to admit though, it takes a certain type of cajones to go about looking like a tosser. ... gay cajones.

For the last bar we went (I'm 100% sure that at that point I more or less crawled my way) to the Crobar. That however turned out to be a bigger disapointment than George Bush writing his own soliloquis. That place was so rundown I think I'm struck with ... amnesia . Truthfully however, that is probably due to being completely and utterly drunk. Although Subject Owlbear informed me all I've missed apparently were "a bunch of fat chicks"

so meh...

Codename Bourbon signing off

The Shoreditch Review

Shoreditch is a nice place to unwind and sample some delectable cocktails. Our latest trip bought us to the not-so-originally-named The Shoreditch venue. From the outside the bar looks, well, ... pretty tacky to be honest with all the bright blue lights. Really the front of this bar would fit in just perfect in Soho.
Inside the decoration is veritable mix and match. You can find fake African statuettes, a ship's figurehead, heck, there is even a dead tiger on the ceiling. First I thought I was already drunk and mistaking the floor with the ceiling (again) but nope, there was a real tiger skin bolted to the ceiling.
The theme seems to be exotic, but more in the sense of cheap exotic fruit juice that you buy at those Turkish shops than real outlandish and beautiful art. Shoreditch art students failing again. Have I also mentioned there's a dead tiger pelt on the ceiling? Inevitably staring right through your soul.
For some reason there's also packets of ice on the floor. Go figure.

Oh yeh, the drinks. The Shoreditch is so far the only cocktail bar where we've managed to uncontrollably giggle and roar after reading the menu. We might as well have been reading the Joker's evil cocktail menu. If you ever want to waste your monthly wages people, just go to this bar and order yourself a Tiger's Head. Cost? 800£. It's ok though, because you can share it with 10 ... Seriously though, for that price I expect to bathe in my drinks, poured by a harem of virgins dressed as princess Leila (You know which dress, truly you know) while being read, ... no, cantated, poetry from William Blake.
Anyway we decided NOT to take the Tiger's Head and instead opted for a Planet of the Apes and a Bees Knees. As outrageous as some prices were, we got the Happy Hour deal and it was only 10£ for those two. For that price we found the drinks very agreeable and acceptable.
The Planet of the Apes is a cocktail made from rum and banana juice. A pretty well balanced cocktail with the taste of rum right there in the front seat of your taste buds. It also came in an awesome porcelain barrel mug. I've never seen Subject T look so happy except maybe for that one time he had dozed off on the tube, dreaming of punching David Cameron square in the mouth.

The Bees Knees is an excellent summer drink. The glass was frosty it almost came straight from the ice-age.  Although the menu says it's a cocktail of gin and honey, there's a very pleasant taste of lime all throughout the drink. Turning this into a marvellous refreshing and smooth drink.

We had a great time in The Shoreditch, apart from mocking the drinks and furniture we leaned back enjoying our cocktails. Meanwhile nodding to the beats of some smooth reggae. Unfortunately we were told that the princess is in another bar



Subject Bourbon signing off