With trading conditions becoming ever challenging, how does a bar create the kind of immersive experience that gives guests a reason to visit? Hamish Smith goes full theme...
There’s a crackly announcement, a whoosh and a flash. Above our heads a projectile shoots through a network of transparent pneumatic tubes that snakes across walls and ceilings patchworked in vintage knick-knacks before plummeting to a collection point close to our table. My cocktail has arrived.
And with it, in similarly giddy fashion, has Cahoots Postal Office in the Borough Yards, under the railway arches that back on to Borough Market. It comes, of course, from the dream team of nostalgic themes, Inception Group. Through the likes of Mr Fogg’s various Victorian abodes, Barts and Cahoots Underground and Ticket Hall, Inception has been at the cutting edge of yesteryear themes for so long it’s almost vintage itself.
You may be thinking that dusty nostalgia – 40s vintage, Victoriana and all the stuffed animals it gave a third life to – is well behind us back in the twenty tens. But trends linger longer than you think, they just move through the consumer groups, from the early adopters to the late. And here, among the tourists, the belatedly curious middle-aged and the Gen Zs looking for thematic stimulation, is where the market is. There’s money to be had, if, of course, you get the experience right.
I’m certainly keen, arriving at Cahoots for an early sitting – the only table available before 11pm on a Tuesday, but no matter, 5pm is winter’s 7pm. The receptionist is already warmed up, delivering a confident Cahoots “What oh” welcome, followed by: “Have you come for a parcel?” Then a phone rings, which you have to answer. It’s a lot to take in for the easily embarrassed.
Once in, the 1940s sorting office theme envelopes you (yes, that’s a postal office pun), with packages, letters, suitcases and vintage trappings producing less a feast for the eyes, more an all-you-can-eat buffet. What’s created, as we pull up to our high-top table and comfortable stools, is a sepia-tinged space in which the walls and paraphernalia cocoon you. The hum of the guests is muffled and the Rat Pack soundtrack finds soft landings against the textured décor.
DOWN TO BUSINESS
From the menu – an overwrought mock-newspaper that we strain to read under the dimmed lights – we choose the Par Avion (£17.50/Grey Goose, St-Germain, crème de menthe, ginger, citrus, Appletiser), arriving as described by the bar’s letter-sorting office-inspired tube system. Unlike post, though, it comes a little early, before our other drinks, leaving me wondering if the slightly sweet, room-temperature liquid in the metal flask that transports it is my finished cocktail. It’s amazing how a glass, ice and a mint garnish can make the unpalatable palatable in seconds – fragrant, fresh, off-dry and very drinkable.
Joining it is Don’t shoot the Messenger (£14.50/Ilegal Joven mezcal, Martini Riserva Speciale Bitter aperitif, Muyu Jasmine Verte liqueur, pumpkin & cranberry wine and Paragon Labdanum cordial) which has Rosita vibes, with the earthy pumpkin holding hands with the mezcal – ambrosial goodness. Ginger Rogers, meanwhile (£13.5/ 42 Below vodka, Nardini Acqua di Cedro liqueur, prickly pear & kumquat) has good flavours but so concentrated it is almost changing state. We perform emergency mixology, hydrating it with an ice cube and an olive pick until it comes back to life.
We venture on. The Mai Tai-inspired Message in a Bottle (£13.5/Dewar’s 8 Year Old Caribbean Smooth scotch whisky, Bacardi Carta Negra rum, Nixta corn liqueur, popcorn & mango orgeat), is about as tropical as an accountant in a tiki shirt. A thick gloop of mango and orgeat in a small bottle, with such a faint whiff of alcohol it took me back to vodka and fruit juice in pubs with sticky floors. We try to intervene with more table-side surgery – a vigorous shake of the bottle with a coaster over the opening. Alas, there is no saving it.
Our attentions divert to The Black Market Blend (£12.5/ Dewar’s 12-year-old scotch whisky, white port, crème de cacao blanc liqueur, blueberry and chocolate bitters), an adroitly executed Rob Roy riff, while The Smuggler’s Shipment (£12.5/Bacardi Carta Blanca rum, Casoni Nocino di Modena liqueur, ricotta & figs cream, pecan, maple and Franklin & Sons Indian Tonic) is nutty, velvety and as comforting as a 15-tog duvet.
So where are we? The drinks here are better than you might expect for a bar whose theme is a 1946 postal office. More than that, most of them are thoroughly enjoyable. The food is drab – chunks of cheddar on sticks feels like an upturned middle finger to Borough Market – but everything else has a vibe. Does the experience feel slightly staged, hammy and reminiscent of a two-hour visitor’s slot at Harry Potter Studios? Yes, yes and yes, but it’s also absolutely packed with people having a great time.
So, if you’re rolling your eyes at Cahoots from your near-empty bar, blaming your venue’s lack of business on everything but the experience it offers, you might want to think again. Fun outsells serious – and given the current climate, that is something we would do well to remember.
Unit 205, 18 Stoney Street, London SE1 9ADX
SCORES
Hospitality 8/10
Drinks 7/10
Food 4/10
Atmosphere 9/10
Décor 8/10
Value 7/10
TOTAL: 7/10