The Loft

What makes a great bar? For starters, it really should have a well considered, enticing list of drinks. It helps if it plays music that's fresh and feels good, not inane and obvious noise pollution. It's an advantage if the room looks attractive without being as primped and preened as an Italian gigolo. It should have a lively atmosphere, but without being too packed. Some decent food for the hungry is always a bonus. And the service should be welcoming and efficient. Too much to ask? The Loft gets at least half of these right, which is no mean achievement - and a bit of a surprise as it's a new branch of Brixton DJ bar Plan B. This is an altogether more grown-up enterprise from the brothers behind it, Andy and James Campana. The music here is also a big draw. On our midweek visit we were impressed by the rootsy dub, and by the remix/ambient electronica (specifically Tosca, Richard Dorfmeister's own project). The sound quality itself was also impressive. Sound baffles are built into the ceiling design, and discreet patches of baize help suppress the distortion you'd otherwise find in such a concrete and glass setting (The Loft is built on the first floor above a predictably ugly Tesco supermarket). The bar's a treat to look at if you happen like your interiors dark, industrial and with retro-modernist touches (think: IKEA's darker, moodier brother). It's not too austere, however: the big, comfy leather chairs are great for lounging in, and, unlike those in most Shoreditch bars, clearly weren't pulled from rubbish skips. Andy Campana has created an imaginative and appealing cocktail list, using excellent pouring brands as mixers (Whitley Neill gin, Buffalo Trace bourbon, Monkey Shoulder scotch, etc). The list namechecks cocktails invented by renowned London bartenders: Dick Bradsell's Russian Spring Punch, Tony Conigliaro's Licorice Whiskey Sour, etc - and also broaches brave new territory with Campana's own creations, such as the Alpaca Mullet (not as tasteless as it sounds: pisco with berry flavours). On the menu, glass shapes are shown next to the cocktails, so that chaps don't make the mistake of ordering a drink that makes them look like a big girl's blouse. The wine and bottled beer list is also one of the best in Clapham; any beer enthusiast not already familiar with Coopers Sparkling Ale from Australia should acquaint themselves with it forthwith. So far, so good. But what about service? It was relatively quiet on our arrival, and we moved from the bar to the large dining area, tempted by the menu. A waiter with a Gino d'Acampo-style comedy accent took our order. He came back to report they were out of a dish; forgot the cutlery; forgot our drinks order; kept disappearing; generally made a hash of the table service. Quite an achievement, as we were the only diners. Chef Marianna Witt used to work at The Glasshouse in Kew, and her cooking is ambitious and interesting. Mussels were steamed in a stock flavoured with star anise, a clever oriental twist to substitute the more usual fennel (both plants contain the same naturally occuring flavouring, called anethole). This stock, also flavoured with dill cream, was so good we drained the bowl. Other dishes were also inventive, but not as well executed. Twice-roasted pork belly had been cut like thick and fatty bacon rashers, which resulted in dry meat; it would have benefitted instead from slow-cooking in a big chunk, in the Chinese way. A starter of endive salad was a good combination with some shredded braised oxtail and walnut oil, and a wild mushroom dish was an exemplary token vegetarian option. Other main courses included confit rabbit with ceps, and grilled sea bass with broccoli, anchovies and chilli. There's one big catch. Being on Clapham High Street, where the opening of a fridge door can cause a queue to form, The Loft was mobbed within days of opening. Worse still, its door policy seems erratic. At the entrance, a bouncer guarded the way on our first visit. He mumbled something as we passed. Perhaps he was saying 'Delighted to see you'. Or maybe it was 'I'll take all your first-born'. Whatever it was, by the time we left it had changed to a mumbled 'Guest list only'. Yet on our second visit, two weeks later, there was no bouncer at all. So I suggest you go early in the week, or early in the evening, and leave the busy nights to people who actually enjoy the humiliation of being turned away from a bar.

http://www.timeout.com/london/bars/12487.html