Met Bar

Metropolitan Hotel, Old Park Lane W1K 1LB

What does your average Londoner yearn for in a modern drinking venue? Stylish surroundings? Flamboyant libations? A crowd that still has all its own teeth? Most people try to seek out that little hidden extra, that ingredient X. The trouble is Met Bar simply doesn’t have it. It’s all so very, very nice. The food is nice, the people are nice, the drinks are nice, the music is nice. The floor? That’s nice. The toilets? Yep, they’re nice. Everything is nice. Upon entering Met Bar you’re ‘met’ by a wall of niceness. Which isn’t always that nice, really.

This is a hotel bar right on Park Lane. That’s Mayfair, the most expensive property on a Monopoly board, so you’d expect a certain degree of élan. Plus, it’s right next door to Nobu so it’s bound to throw up big balls of panache just to keep up with the Joneses. It has a reputation for attracting the odd celebrity. The trouble is it goes on about it. It’s like one of those people that hark on about ‘the time they met Mick Jagger’. Well whoopee doo. Those years are well gone my ailing friend, change the tune will ya! Personally, I’ve been to Met Bar twice and I’ve spotted a grand total of one celebrity. And even that was only Carl Fogerty. Yeh exactly, WHO??! Kylie, Kate and the Kings of Leon have apparently all visited, but they were probably staying at the hotel at the time and couldn’t be bothered to leave the premises.

Do you think when Neil Armstrong took that giant leap for mankind he might’ve been thinking, “It’s a bit empty out here. Not to mention uninhabited. But by golly it’s beautiful.” Well, welcome to Met Bar, Mr Armstrong. Great to look at but totally rigamortis dead. There was more atmosphere on the surface of Mars than there was on the Friday evening we went. Allegedly, it gets thumping around 11pm so if you are intending on going, make it a late one.

The clientele are a mixed bunch of people - mostly well dressed, some young, some old, some who are old but have stretched themselves young. Musically, the immediate vibe is of the cheddar, brie or Red Leicester variety. An odd mix of house, electro, rock, hiphop and 80's classics. We heard Prefab Sprout, The Cure, Van Halen and The Kaiser Chiefs all in the same night. It’s difficult to know whether that’s good or bad.

The Met Bar is small and the decor is bright and unobtrusive. There’s red leather booths for the luxury hogs, bar stools for the practiced drinkers, and plenty of mirrored walls for the egomaniacs. And that’s about it. It lacks its own entrance and there is no discernible sign so you find yourself asking the question “Am I in the right place and is this leading to somewhere happening?”

On the plus side.....the food is delightfully appertising and the cocktail list is expensive yet reassuringly extensive. Regarding the former, the vegetable tempura is possible the best in London and it’s accompanied by London’s saltiest soya sauce, too. The addition of the new Midnight Menu negates the need to stumble out of a taxi towards your local kebab house at 2am as there’s Kentish Salt Marsh lamb kebab with sweet pepper tabbouleh, edamame and hummus on offer at The Met. Plus, the tiny individual jars of hot english mustard and ketchup left on your table make perfect souvenirs (in the bag they go!).

Regarding the drinks, the bar is backed by three shelves, EACH with around forty bottles on them. By my calculations that means they have exactly what you’re looking for. Although Met is ostensibly known for its martinis, the nice man behind the bar reassures that rum and tequila are making a comeback and as such a new menu will be out in 2009 to evoke your memories. The Polish vodka and liqueur ‘Honey Dew’ is a winner, as is the as-yet-unnamed bourbon drink made with liquified palm sugar and aged sake.

Overall, without the food and drink, it’s high time you reached for the cord with ‘Get Me The Hell Out Of Here And Make It Snappy’ written on it.