Mele e Pere. The Not So Bitter Truth.
Martin Luther King onced proclaimed,” Never succomb to the temptation of bitterness.”
And here was me, thinking that Campari was quite zeitgeisty in sixties America, if Madmen is anything to go by.
I love bitterness, and most of my close friends love bitterness too. Let’s be honest. As we get older, bitterness becomes the new sweet.
I wonder, increasingly, if there is a correlation between enjoying bitter drinks and harboring bitterness and regret as one advances through life’s rich pageant. Take two examples.
1) Old men in Yorkshire near Masham.
2) Me.
I have found a spot in my beloved Soho where I can indulge my sour-faced fetish, without having to barge past better-looking, trendy hipsters and endure eardrum tearing techno in some of the busier bars around the area. I am sure this will change, because I can’t see how the formula of this place can fail. (Famous last words.)
I am talking about Mele e Pere.
For those of you who frequent Soho, and have been to my other field office over the road, namely The Pink Chihuahua, you have probably walked past it over a dozen times, thinking, “What on earth is that?”
It looks like a shop that sells Murano paperweights. That’s all there is in the window. Behind them, and the floor to ceiling glass front, a bar- two feet long, one beer pump, and a couple of tables.
Oh. And a set of stairs.
Look I don’t speak Italian, but apparently the clue’s in the name. A name so cunning that you could put a dress on it and call it cockney.
So what is down the ‘Apples and Pears’?
I am not a guy that has been to Italy even half as often as I have wished, but the gleaming copper bar, the pretty Italian Aperol prints and all the pretty vaulted dining alcoves feel Italian to me. There’s a stylish measured calm.
Behind the bar is undoubtedly the largest range of vermouths, bitters and aperitivos in London, along with the charming and brilliantly competent Ed Scothern, Head Sommelier.
Now. I wasn’t here prinicipally for the food, but as my crush on bitter Italian cocktails was being met with one perfectly balanced cocktail after another, I started to notice how terrific the bar food is. Gorgeous, succulent deep-fried stuffed green olives, feather-light, clean and crispy calamari and a plank, piled high with that Pontiff of salami, finocchiona, and the most delicious deep fried gnocchi bread.
The prices, considering that we were in a W1 Postcode, are barely believable. If you go between 4 and 7, you can get a very large, expertly crafted Martinez, a mountain of salami and a groaning plate of squid for about a twenty quid. Seriously.
I don’t know why I didn’t take pictures of the bar snacks that I ate, but I truly wish that I had. I have a sneeky feeling that describing them with an M&S voiceover won’t do their appeal any harm. Go and check it out for yourself.
Actually, I took one picture. This is a traffic-stopping white vermouth sorbet with Caramelised Blood Orange and Aperol Syrup…
Can you feel that?…. Can you?
None of these delicious things are the reason why I was attracted to this place. What did stir my interest was this.
Homemade Vermouth.
They steep all their ingredients seperately and blend them all together themselves.
They get through about ten litres of each a week, and I can totally see why.
I don’t want to wax on about the different components that make vermouth what it is, nor do I want to spoil the surprise. Go and ask Ed yourself. They are incredible. Seriously. I don’t imagine it’ll ever be as good as my first time, but I have fallen in love with this place. The food coming out of the kitchen looks as precise as the drinks, and judging by their glowing reviews, all the national restaurant critics can’t be wrong at the same time. They also do amazing party rates too. Mmm. Too late for my birthday, I wonder?
To drink?
I asked for a classic wet Martini, 3 to 1, with a twist.
With my gin.
(Didn’t I tell you? Yes. I am a fully paid up spirit brand owner. How cool is that? And the gin is designed to be used in exactly this kind of environment.)
Let me introduce to you….
The martini was fresh, articulate and bright, void of any of those nasty oxidised tones you often find in some bottle vermouth, with a palate of silk and lemony tannic bite on the finish.
Here’s a delicious Negroni made with their red vermouth too. Handsome innit? Berried and bright, reeking of cranberries, gentian and wormwood.
Ok That’s enough.
Go. To. Mele e Pere.
That’s all I have to say.