Perched on a stool beneath a lamppost straight out of Narnia, I half expected to see Nancy mid-blazing-row with Fagin on a Chesterfield sofa, while Jude proved his Latin speaking prowess at the bar, and Sherlock whipped his monocle from his top pocket to decipher the menu through candle light.
The latest offering from Fluid Movement of Purl, the Worship Street Whistling Shop brings 1825 to 2011.
Location wise, it’s as if someone’s stuck a drawing pin in a map of East London at exact centre between the Old Street – Liverpool Street – Shoreditch High Street triangle. It should be the perfect place for a trendy bar, though the quiet road appears as a no-man’s-land that can’t decide if it pledges allegiance to the City or Shoreditch.
That said, judging by the Wednesday evening buzz just a few weeks post-opening, the whistle of its name seems more like a whirlwind; all dark wood, gilted filigree ceilings and dark corners, the basement interior celebrates the conviviality of Dickensian drinking, with a huge central table asking for a banquet with pyramids of fruit and rabbit pies and mammoth moulded jellies.
Back to sitting beneath the lamppost, I’m whirring my way through the cocktail menu. There are so many unusual ingredients in each of the 11 concoctions on offer that the menu warrants its own glossary – and to make it even more apothecary-esque, each of the unique flavours, brews and distillations is made by staff clad in Victorian outfits (braces and all) shut inside a laboratory that provides a haunting reminder of lower school Chemistry lessons.
Fancying a little fizz, I begin with Gold Dust: Preservation Liqueur (‘fleetingly real herbs and spices’) and Chlorophyll Bitters (Chemistry dumped for Biology) are hidden within what appears as a plain flute of 2006 Nyetimber Brut. It’s fairly complicated, but a full blown party for the palate.
Curiosity gets the better of me to sample the Radiation Aged Cocktail. A heady blend of Rum, Chip Pan Bitters (yes, really) Campari, Dubonnet, home-made grenadine and a sucker punch of Absinthe at the end, all irradiated, it takes Ryan a good couple of minutes to charm me with how it all works, but that’s what the place is all about.
Perhaps most exciting is my late discovery of the Dram Room; an inconspicuous box within the bar with a bathtub plonked in the middle, and bench seating for eight either side. Strewn with straw and a mix of herbs – juniper, coriander et al – to trick the senses back in time, the piece-de-resistance is a cupboard stacked with gin and an honesty bar set up.
I’m told that the ‘Emporium’ is about to open, taking guests on a fully sensual alcoholic journey through the ages, beginning with the history of rum.
This might well be my new favourite place.
63 Worship Street, EC2A 2DU
