A culture of violence #1802
Spring's technicolor dreamcoat
Good afternoon. Hoping this finds you drenched in the torrid rains of spring optimism? Just as the easterly beast came and went, so the transition into the new season has been met with as much damp-grey as a drowned suit.
Downstairs at 411 Mare St. we have a new menu in play; wherein we make it feel like it really is winter's end, not this wheezy, flaccid lurch. The bar is set to stun and the new drinks line up like sweet, delicious, pert macaroons.
⍢ "It’s here, it’s really here. Hoist up the maypole and run naked through the meadow."
⍡ 'Careful not to cut yourself on the wheat, now. That can really stick.'
We’re on a bit of a French leaning tip this time out; a booze-cruise to Calais that went wrong when the wi-fi dropped out and somehow we found ourselves channeling that Manon de Source vibe down in Provence. A peaty, verbena-laced Cognac sazerac, that rhubarb and lavender daiquiri, a calvados-cum-pistachio-cum-amaretti fix, a purple ‘vivant’ French 75 (for Prince) and an ode to the ferry crossing from Plymouth to Normandy; all served up in glorious technicolor!
Come taste ❀
With the season comes a tonne of bank holidays; the first being this weekend, which, unless you're holy (come on), is an excuse to really lean out into a good solid stretch of drinking. From Thursday we'll be open longer and later & if you fancy finding a real 'easter egg' you'd do a lot worse than to pop your hollow-choccy head round the corner on Sunday.
Meantime here's a picture Alex took in Iceland last week with the Reyka vodkaexpedition. They deserve a plug for taking care of him, and frankly, you do too for quite possibly getting him there on a lovely all-expenses jolly. So this is the thanks you get: a picture of a tourist checking her picture in front of something actually worth looking at. You should go.
And drink Reyka. Always. ✌︎