A Bar with Shapes for a Name
Order this
If there's a single signature cocktail here, it's probably the kazimir: a short, elegant blend of vodka infused with peach yogurt (yes, really) and absinthe. It's a grown-up drink with the faintest delightful hint of a kid's fromage frais – not a bad way to sum up Shapes's playful-yet-rigorous approach to bartending.
Time Out tip
One key USP of ABWSFAN is that it us open until very late (4am!) and takes walk-ins all night long, making it an ideal spot for that very last round… or two or three… of the evening/morning.
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Evening Standard
a day ago
- Evening Standard
Josh Barrie at All My Gods: Nuclear daiquiris in a temple of darkness
Take heed too of a brilliantly executed watermelon marg; the 'Little Italy', made with Carpano (like Campari), Rittenhouse rye and Cynar; as well as picklebacks, various punches and a nitro garibaldi, that canny combination of Campari and 'fluffy' orange juice invented at Dante in New York but in situ at Claridge's until the end of summer. Finish with a frozen Irish coffee for a laugh. Or try the 'martininator', or vodka martini dispenser. Swerve the boozy vending machine filled with hard seltzers and BuzzBallz (bore off, and more calories than a Guinness).
Time Out
30-07-2025
- Time Out
The historic Soho coffee shop that makes the best negronis in London, according to cocktail experts
The best time of day is surely aperitivo hour. Luckily, you won't have to be sunning yourself on the Amalfi Coast to get a bit of la dolce vita this summer, because London is home to a fabulous number of Italian bars and restaurants serving up delicious spritz, salty snacks and, of course, negronis. So where should you go in the city to find the best concoction of gin, Campari and vermouth? Time Out asked seven bar experts – including Tayer + Elementary 's Monica Berg, Carina Soto Velásquez from Hackney cocktail bar Equal Parts, and co-owner of Three Sheets Max Venning – to name the number one negroni in the capital. According to the experts, London's best negroni can be found at Bar Italia, an Italian coffee shop with a super late licence in Soho. Kicking back with a negroni at this authentic caff is less about fancy ingredients or innovative twists, and more about soaking up the vibes. 'If you want a negroni like how you'd have it in Italy, go to a divey place like Bar Italia,' said Missy Flynn, cocktail expert and co-founder of the American-inspired Rita's in Soho. 'The negroni is so simple, the most important thing is to have the right ratio and enough dilution. Most simple Italian restaurants and cafés should make a good one.' 'Bar Italia is somewhere you can go after work. It's inexpensive, you can just stop in and have one outside. It's fun.' Mixologist Mr Lyan also said some of the best negronis could be found at London's casual Italian eateries, particularly Bar Italia. 'The good thing about a negroni is it's fairly bulletproof,' he said. 'Bar Italia in Soho is ace for grabbing one, it feels really stripped back and you can enjoy the simplicity of what it is.' Honourable mentions go to runners up Tayer + Elementary in Shoreditch and Bar Termini in Soho, which both received two nominations from our expert panel. The tiny wood-panelled Soho spot Bar Termini was recommended by Monica Berg and Carina Soto Velásquez. As a negroni specialist, Termini is known for serving innovative twists on the classic drink. Be warned: these bevvies come strong, as they are served straight up in coupettes. Both Gabriel Pryce from Rita's and Mr Lyan shouted our Old Street cocktail bar Tayer + Elementary for its unusual and 'genius' takes on the negroni, which include flavours like rhubarb and vetiver. Also nominated for the best negroni in London was steak restaurant Hawksmoor for its cherry version of the tipple, chosen by Stephanie Randle-Solley from Exale Brewing. St John Smithfield was named the best place to sip the drink by Max Venning, and Swift 's Coral Anderson said the capital's best was found at Frank's, the French-styled bar underneath the St James's brasserie Maison François.
Spectator
23-07-2025
- Spectator
The podcast of the summer
The cover painting for The Specialist, a new podcast from Sotheby's, looks like a scene from Mad Men. The people are so good-looking and so well dressed that you barely notice how odd they are. One chap's walking along with a porcelain bowl as if it were a macchiato; a lady holds a plant in her palms in the manner of receiving communion; someone else walks the street with a gavel. The admen have done their job: intrigued, I press play. It becomes apparent that the people who work at Sotheby's have no interest in persuading anyone that they are normal. I listen to Ottilie, Julian and Gregory, and to mouths that volunteer, with ease, such phrases as 'the visceral power is undimmed by the passage of time'. Voices grow more animated at the discovery of pentimenti, particulars of provenance and the prospect of record-breaking sales. Like estate agents for HNWIs, only clever, the specialists make no effort to pretend their world is something it isn't. I applaud their honesty. There are two main types of episode. The first, released as a batch last month, is longer and more conversational. Simon Schama and curator Eleanor Nairne discuss portraiture and actress Julianne Moore gives a collector's view on 20th-century design. Most of these episodes were taken from recordings of live events. A week after this delivery came the start of what feels like another series entirely. Each episode averages 11 minutes and features one Sotheby's expert speaking directly to us about the sale of a single artwork. I have worked my way through most of the short ones and duly crown The Specialist my podcast of the summer. It's remarkable what you can learn in 11 minutes. Simon Shaw speaks wonderfully – and at auction-speed – of the record set by the 2012 sale of Munch's 'The Scream'. There were only ever four versions of the work, two of which have been stolen, and only one privately held. The production of prints kick-started the fascination with the image, which is apparently alone among paintings for inspiring not one emoji, but two (you may not yet have discovered the screaming cat). The £16.25 million realised by the sale of a Vermeer were a bonus to the achievement of the painting's attribution. I had no idea there were just 36 recognised Vermeer paintings. The prospect of adding to the catalogue was complicated by the fact that the artist has so often been forged. Even a painting sold to Göring on behalf of Hitler was revealed as a fake. Listen to the episode on Kandinsky for a moving story of art restitution. A painting by the Bauhaus master had hung in the dining room of a family that had tried to flee the Nazis. Its rediscovery, many years after its sale under duress, was quite miraculous. Should all this put you in the mood for more art, ensure you listen to Your Places or Mine first. Clive Aslet, the architectural writer and visiting Cambridge professor, and John Goodall, architectural editor for Country Life, have been running their fascinating weekly podcast since the early summer, delving into many a museum and historic house. They recently assessed the changes to the National Gallery, which, incidentally, has an enjoyable new podcast of its own, Stories in Colour. Aslet and Goodall admire William Wilkins's original gallery building (apart from the 'clunky' dome) but save their enthusiasm for the latest additions by Selldorf Architects. I confess, I hadn't noticed many of the features they praise, including the removal or slimming down of some of the 'Teletubby' columns in the entrance to the Sainsbury Wing, and an area of rustication that Goodall describes, in his jovial tones, as 'really, really satisfying'. As with The Specialist, this podcast is most likely to appeal to listeners with ears attuned to long vowels and guffaws, and for whom 'rustication' is familiar terminology. Which is to say the readers of this magazine. Aslet and Goodall will digress in order to explain ('I suppose we'd better say something about Wilkins…') but rightly feel no compulsion to dumb-down. They often seem to forget that the tape is rolling, so at ease are they in each other's company. 'You've got to pity these people,' remarks Aslet of 19th-century aristocrats who sought American wives to replenish their coffers and restock their art collections. 'They hadn't been brought up to do anything except serve in the army… many had been to Eton so could talk very well about things, but…' Cue an endearing guffaw from Goodall, who sounds forever to be on the verge of hysterics. Art: a serious business, except when it's not.
