My dear friend Scottee’s birthday celebrations miraculously coincided with London Cocktail Week so I concocted a trail of alcohol and perfume -two of his fave things-as a birthday surprise. In preparation I visited Les Senteurs, the best scent shop in London. The lovely manager Nick helped me do the matching- gin, rum, bourbon, Campari, Cointreau, Amaretto, and Prosecco each had their own accompanying fragrance.
It was then up to Scottee and me to drink & sniff our way through central London -on a school night, no less.
We created a cloud of perfume and a trail of empty glasses…starting at Smatt’s Rum & Ice Cream Shack- where not only did we have scent to match the rum, we had matching flavours of cocktails & alcoholic ice cream! Here’s Scottee with his Rum Apple Crumble ice cream.
The glory of London Cocktail Week is that you wind up drinking in places that aren’t really bars…like Cointreau cocktails in the posh erotic emporium Coco de Mer. I can confirm that perusing glass dildos is highly enhanced by drink.
We carried on to Murdocks, a gentlemen’s grooming parlour transformed into a gin palace, the Covent Garden Hotel for Campari, bourbon shots with pickle juice shooters in an ex-jewellery shop turned Bourbon Empire, and some refined Amaretto based concoctions at the Savoy’s American Bar, where we both kept confusing cinnamon sticks for straws.
Then for some reason- after Amaretto but before Prosecco (I *think*…by this time things were a bit fuzzy) Scottee spotted a place called Champagne & Fromage. It wasn’t part of the plan, but any place that promises gastronomic bliss on this level must be investigated. Morbier and Moet, anyone?
The evening ended at Bocca di Lupo for a near-midnight snack of deep fried Italian morsels and a bottle of Prosecco, where we were kept away from a fellow diner for their own safety. The Prime Minister was celebrating HIS birthday and having a meal at BdiL (how DARE he have the same birthday as Scottee!) The restaurant manager rightly thought that if I saw David Cameron I would pelt him with olives from across the dining room.
All further photographic evidence has been destroyed for our own protection…but our trail of perfume still scents the streets of Soho.
Happy 27th birthday, Scottee!