Popination Recuperation
a series of unhinged personal essays disguised as pub reviews. Today: Savage Gardens.
Okay, so THIS is really the last of the London pubs, for real this time. I think of Ye Olde Mitre as being the London Pub Popination finale, and this one to be its encore. And why did I decide to write a whole separate piece on a mere hotel bar? Well, for a few reasons.
Mainly, it’s because of this bar’s decor—specifically, its view of one particular corner of London Town: the Tower and Bridge. I went up to Savage Gardens at the conclusion of each day that we stayed in that hotel (so, every day of our honeymoon), and the view stayed spectacular, changing its view’s color or timbre at each visit, depending on the weather and the time of day. Or even with my mood? Couldn’t be. But maybe.
Start Vacation Time on the 12th Floor:
The strange and surreal quality of Savage Gardens bar captivated me, and that’s why I made sure to frequent it. I think my husband found it so odd as to be off-putting soon enough on our trip, so that more often than not I’d post up there alone. I liked the vibe though—it was weirdly decorated inside and had a sort of ‘60s cocktail bar flow.
It was on the roof, which was the 12th floor, the top floor—or was that the 13th? Oo, maybe that has to do with how odd it was: don’t they number their floors differently in England? It did make me feel like I should be in a painting by Shag, both in its elegance and its slightly off-kilter vibe. It was the perfect backdrop to jot down a couple diary notes about my London day, and to debrief and clear the ol’ head. And each visit, I took a picture of the rooftop view. (See my Notes page for a couple different looks than the one selected here.)
Said view was spectacular and would change depending on time of day and weather and it was a fluid work of natural art plus architecture that I observed each day of our stay. It was, unfortunately, just a little bit too chilly there in mid-March for me to want to take my cocktails out on the long balcony, but three whole walls of the place were made of windows, so I could enjoy the view no matter where I sat, whether it was in the main room, or in the side alley in the orange armchairs, where I was deposited a couple times by the host when there was a private party taking over the main area.
I was actually fine with not hanging out outside on the balcony at Savage Gardens this trip, as the glass railing looked like it would likely give me vertigo. But it was interesting, too—in all the places where we traipsed to on this trip, the (it seems to me?) traditional post-up of lads outside the pubs, pints on outdoor ledges, wasn’t happening either. Must be just a summer thing, or maybe at least later in the spring. Londoners, chime in.
More differences in this bar as opposed to cocktail bars I’d go to here at home: when I ordered a mixed drink (in my case, a gin & tonic), they’d bring out the liquor pour on ice with the lime or whatever in it, and then on the side, a little bottle of whatever the mixer was. It was pretty cool—I liked mixing my own drinks there at the table, and if I didn’t finish the tonic with the one drink, they’d just bring me another shot and I could use the rest for my second round. Is this a normal way to do cocktails in England?
The strange case of the neglectful server
There was one server that seemed like he was abjectly ignoring us, and that may have been my husband’s last straw, but I don’t know. It may have just been a matter of inexperience. To be honest, I was actually mildly (pleasantly) surprised that we never got the side-eye from anyone for being American, at least not to our faces. Then again, London is such a cosmopolitan, international city. And also, it was only March—things hadn’t gone quite as horrifically off the rails just yet with this administration. Sigh…
There was the time we got apologized to by an effusive manager (for what? I don’t recall. More glacial service, I believe) and were obliged to drink not one, but two of his signature pimiento old fashioneds. Each. Which were quite yummy, don’t get me wrong. But this was at the very end of another long day of London walking, and they packed a punch. A delicious punch, but a punch. I guess we must have slept well that night. But I don’t remember.
A Savage conclusion
I can safely say that this weird hotel bar was something of an allusion to the whole trip. Foreign yet comfortable. Strange and old/new and beautiful. Symbolic and historical. Memorable. Tasty. I absolutely want to go back; we’ll see what happens in and to the world coming up, when and whether that’ll be possible.
What are your favorite London pubs and bars, that I missed this time and should make sure to catch during my mythical next trip? I’ve heard Gordon’s Wine Bar is worth a visit, and just learned about the Coach & Horses series of pubs and what their historical background is. And, can you believe it?—we didn’t set foot in any Wetherspoons! Not one! How is that possible? What’s your favorite Wetherspoons?
(Popinations will take place back home in Denver next week, I promise. I know, I’m sorry… or is that #sorrynotsorry ?)
Loved this. I was only in London once, to run the London Marathon actually. It functioned as our second honeymoon. I ran the Marine Corps Marathon 6 months earlier for my first marathon. But I was not really able to go to too many bars. That apology cocktail looks yummy! And that view! Anyway, looks like an awesome trip. I really like these popinations! ❤️🍸🥃🍻