Is this the best winter pop-up bar in London right now?
Finding the perfect London winter bar is tricky. You want something cosy. But not too snug, what with the constant cycles of can’t-shake-this-off-six-week-long-cold pandemics, and every stranger potentially contaminated. You want buzzing. But not Soviet-era queues to get into an exposed-brick joint that doesn’t do reservations or radiators.
I thought I’d fallen at the first hurdle when I arrived at Monkey 47 Lodge, the Rosewood London’s new pop-up and saw a queue longer than Donald Trump’s Twitter block list trailing all the way up High Holborn. I sighed with relief when I realised they were all trying to get into the hotel’s far better known Scarfes Bar. I walked further into the establishment’s courtyard, then spotted their new winter lodge bar hidden on the left behind some billionaire guest’s hulking Ferrari jeep.
The outside is something out of Brothers Grimm, a clapboard structure cuddled with ivy and garlanded with fairy lights. Which made me all the more annoyed that Mr Ferrari had scuppered the perfect Instagram shot.
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Inside is all sheepskin rugs, bottle-green marble tables and cuckoo clocks. On every table, a chunky candle and antique Walter Scott hardbacks. Although the bar's brand is a plug for Monkey 47 gin, frankly most millennials won't notice, accustomed as they are to watering holes with pointless numbers in the name. The theme is also an engaging enough tribute to the company's founder – globetrotter, RAF pilot and Black Forest gin connoisseur Montgomery 'Monty' Collins: I couldn't work out if the monkey taxidermy was real, but the dusty vintage German gin bottles on shelves are a nice historical touch.
So, let's cut to the chase. Had I finally found it? My ideal London winter bar?
Not quite. Annoyingly, the room designer went for island tables in the middle that punters can stand at; the room is so small that the crowds congregating around these block the waiters off from sit-down corner booths at the back. My friends and I were seated at the rear thinking it would be quieter, but the configuration of the space made it impossible to re-order drinks; by the end of the night the waiters had given up on trying to get to us.
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Smiles all round for the heated benches
It was a shame because the hot gin cocktails hit the spot. Black Forest Gateau with warm Monkey 47 Dry, port, and redcurrant syrup under a thick cloud of heavily whipped Bailey’s was alcohol’s equivalent of sticking your entire face into a steaming fruit pie then releasing the contents of a whipped cream canister in your mouth to refresh the palate with.
I also loved Monty Strudel with apple liqueur, cloudy apple juice and tea syrup, served hot in a glass teapot – and china cups sourced from Limoges. Also, the benches are heated, which adds an interesting boozing-in-a-sauna-esque dimension; I noticed an uptick of slightly inebriated clientele rubbing their bottoms on the seating in a perhaps excessively jolly manner as the night rolled on.
Small plates do the trick. The truffle with chips are moreish, Jersey rock oysters go down smoother than Fleetwood Mac at a Wolverhampton wedding, and the mince pies are bigger than the Cornish pasties you get down the fish and chips when you’re feeling particularly depressed and carnivorous.
Overall, I’ll give Monkey 47 a strong 7 out of 10. I'm not entirely sure I'll be back – cocktails are a bit dear (hot gins ￡16-￡18 each) and there are plenty of other places in London to indulge one's inner 'size 20 hipster' with truffle-grated carbohydrates. However if I do return – if only to gently toast my backside next time the boiler at home breaks – I’ll be sure to book a table right at the front...
Atmosphere: 8/10
Service: 6/10
Food/drink: 9/10
Read the full review: Rosewood London