Mystery bar number 30

File under: drink, nightlife, Wellington

Right, that's enough serious council-related malarkey for one week. Time for a bar!

I've already mentioned that last week's mystery bar was Scopa, which opened last week on the site of the ill-fated Rouge. The Bresolin boys have pared back the decor and broadened the appeal, serving everything from breakfast to eaux-de-vie. Or eaux-de-vie for breakfast, if you're so inclined. I thought at first that it would be more of a café than a bar, but then at 10pm on Monday night there was a table of people knocking back Sambucca shots, so I guess it counts as a bar.

This week's mystery bar didn't exactly impress me as much. It gives the impression of trying to be upmarket, but the decor is stuck in the eighties, and not in a glam way either: there's a lot of pastel and brass. It's comfortable enough, and there was live music when we visited, but all this does is lull you into a false sense of security. The sort of security that makes you think, "This place should be able to make a decent Martini".

And how wrong you would be. The staff were earnest and pleasant, but had clearly not only never made a Dry Martini before, but had only vaguely ever heard of one. They knew enough not to just serve up a glass of Italian vermouth, but the result was little better. After carefully specifying gin and asking for a 5-to-1 ratio (best not to attempt anything too dry in such a place, I then had to carefully explain to the incredulous bartender that no, I didn't mean 5 parts vermouth to one of gin, but the other way around.

This seemed to evoke severe cognitive dissonance in the poor bartender, and I eventually managed to end up with something neither shaken nor stirred, but that at least had slightly more gin than vermouth. Well, I presume it was gin, but I couldn't tell, and didn't want to know, what brand of gin was involved: it was poured from an invisible dispenser above the bar. To top it off, three large ice cubes were plonked into the Martini glass, resulting in something that bore as little resemblance to a Dry Martini as the membership of Waterfront Watch does to the clientele of Havana. I managed to force down a couple of sips before giving up, and when I next get around to updating my Martini reviews, this will receive a very generous 2 out of 10. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you: the worst Martini in Wellington.