1. Tuesday night.
Fairly slim pickings, if my comrade-in-booze is to be believed. However, Jo didn't mention exhibition openings. Tuesday night seems to have become the opening night of choice for at least a half-dozen galleries I can think of, and if you're talented you can visit all of them in the two or so hours from 5:30, downing a couple of glasses of wine at each. It was for this very "talent" that I was moved to coin a phrase and bestow upon the members of a certain group of women the term gallery-hag.
I'm going to refrain from mentioning any of the galleries by name; I value my life too much to just throw it away like that. Anway, I harbour ambition to become represented by one or two of them in the future and I'm sure I'd be instantly banished if they discovered that 'pon my heedings a large bunch of people turned up at 5:45, drank all the wine and bought not a single work. I'll leave it up to you, you enterprising bunch of prospective g'hags, to work it out.
After consuming a considerable quantity of cheap booze in such a short amount of time, it's usually quite good to (a) eat some kind of cheapish Asian food, and then head to Indigo where, if I'm not mistaken, Tuesday night is still The Rock Cradle - meaning free entry, loud, rockin' bands, and $3 Mac's Gold handles and $3 tequilas; or (b) take the low road and check out the cheap movies Jo mentions.
Many a slow-starting week for Drinks-After-Work has been kicked into life on the Tuesday night gallery-circuit; reciprocally, many a Wednesday has been made virtually unliveable due to cheap wine hangover.
2. Wednesday night.
I can't believe Jo didn't list Tupelo, where from some reasonable hour - let's say 7pm - they offer two cocktails for the price of one. "Bloody hell," I hear you say, "Tupelo? Cocktails? 2-fer-1? There with bells on" but wait: that's only the theory - where this admirable venture falls down is in the execution.
There are two main drawbacks and, love Tupelo as I do, it pains me to draw your attention to them; were I to omit their mention, however, I would stand derelict in my duty. (1.) The usually staid and relaxed surrounds become a seething mass of young- and student-types (just saying, y'dig, not judging - they're not anything even remotely approaching the wretched and debauched young patrons of Blend), and (2.) the associated increased demand has prompted some interesting improvisations in the drink-making department; namely the apparent strategy to pluck random individuals from the street, stick an apron on them, thrust them behind the bar and entrust to them the grave and complex duty of manufacturing cocktails. The resultant quality is astonishingly variable, almost tempting me more than once to enquire whether or not they were taking the piss, guv'nor.
However, it IS Tupelo, and on every Wednesday night, from some reasonable hour - let's say 7pm - they offer two cocktails for the price of one. "Bloody hell," I hear you say, "Tupelo? Cocktails? 2-fer-1? There with bells on." And I couldn't agree more.
Now. Recycling the format I pioneered in my review of Blend, I'm going to attempt a review of the new-ish Morocco, Tom's mystery bar #7.
MOROCCO / Cuba Mall
Friday 14th October 8.30 - 9.30 pm.
Name: Pleasantly un-funky.
Drinks: Neither astonishing nor disappointing. No tap beer; reasonable selection of bottled, some even not brewed in Auckland. One barman was wearing a branded 42 Below shirt, at the sight of which my heart sank. There's possibly some connection with the now-defunct Apartment, as the cocktail list appeared to be very similar. More investigation required.
Food: No idea. Other ppl appeared to be ordering, or to be more accurate, to be being served it. We didn't, and weren't.
Service: Fine. Bar-service only.
Clientele: Young, attractive. A bit.. anonymous.
Decor: (see it here) Nice retro furniture everywhere - someone, as The_Sifter remarked, spent a pretty penny at Gawjus Fings decking this place out. Brown, tan and beige, with the requisite orange-y highlights/lighting. The lights were down, too - too dark for my brain to triangulate sufficiently well in order to play a remotely competent game of pool. Venetian blinds everywhere. No windows. No detectable air-conditioning.
Ambience: The music was a bit.. anonymous.. as well. Not loud. CDs in a disk-changer - or mp3s - on shuffle. Possibly - and only possibly - a very carefully selected mix of what someone thought was hip, but, tragically, picked what was hip 3-4 years ago.
Familiar faces: 1
Solicitations for group sex: 0
Estimated possibility of becoming intoxicated and getting lost in the bowels of the Workingmen's Club: 100%
Estimated possibility of overhearing in the Gent's toilets (large, and shared with the Workingmen's Club) a conversation that verges on being frightening: 100%
Estimated possibility of overhearing in the Gent's toilets (still large, and still shared with the Workingmen's Club) the evacuation of another patron's bowels in a manner that verges on being frightening: 75%
Website: Apparently not.
Franchise: NAFAIK.
Cost (approximate): Normal, as in average 'classy' prices: from memory, $6 bottled beer and $12-14 cocktails.
Comments: Nice, but not startling. Definitely worth a visit. The Gent's toilets (still large, still shared with the Workingmen's Club, and still verging on being frightening) could be looked on as a bonus or a drawback, depending on your viewpoint on such things. Will no doubt pick up soon. However, the prospect of visiting this place in the height of the approaching summer, when the sun has been shining solidly on the (closed) windows for a good 5 hours (at the very least) in the arvo/evening is a little off-putting.
Oh, Be Warned: After actually visiting the bar in question, I discovered that Tom is playing VERY hard-to-get with his mystery-bar clues. In fact, I'd almost be prepared to go so far as to say that he's verging on the duplicitous. I won't go into the details, but just be warned - if you're gonna play, be prepared to play dirty.
Apologies: I may be forced to wait 'til a later date to decorate this post with snapshots, if and when I can get them off my phone. Sorry.
UPDATE: The ones I did take seem to be quite crappy. and I haven't got da patience today to photoshop they asses. Sorry. Again.
5 comments:
Duplicitous, moi?!?
Music: when we were there, it sounded like a Thievery Corporation DJ Kicks from about 5 years back, so that's consistent.
Drinks: we tried a few cocktails, which were all at least competent at definitely good value ($8-$12). Their list was severely truncated at the time, due to the absence of mint, apple and other key ingredients. I was particularly disappointed not to be able to try the Agavito (a mojito with Agavero), so I well and truly made up for it the next day. It looks like they've had a soft opening, so I'm willing to cut them some slack on this until they sort themselves out.
Food: they don't make their own food (boohoo) but they order in pizza from Pomodoro (woohoo!).
Gents' toilets: their one saving grace is the fact that they're near the kitchen of Tulsi, so the aroma of Tandoor ovens and Garam Masala overpower any other interesting odours that might be lingering there.
Ambience: a good summary, though I think they do have opening windows.
Solicitations for group sex: well, if you must turn up late, you'll just have to miss out, won't you?
When did boys start drinking cocktails?
Q. When did boys start drinking cocktails?
A. 1958 (or whenever the Martini was invented. Archaelogists now believe that Australopithicus was fond of putting his feet up with a Mojito after a hard day of hunter-gathering
:)
Wow. Your blog is actually quite hard to read - this means I actually have to concentrate and it is too early in the day for that. BTW I am Audrey and Jessie's sister. [And the rest]. So Hi.
Damn. Thanks, Anna, for dropping by anyway. I hope your "user-experience" improves if you ever come back.
Tom is right about the cocktail prices - $8-$12 - very reasonable. I'm sure the windows do open; it's just that with those blinds in the way, I'm not sure that they will. And take away the blinds and *vamoosh* there goes your ambience.
Also great news about the Pomodoro pizza, surely one of the greatest and best-kept secrets of Wellington.
Must try an Agavito - sounds killer. I am in love with Agavero.
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