I Spy With My Evil Eye

Tom Kershaw is the Hatted Man. He loves York and York loves him right back. This week he gives ‘cocktail epicentre’ of the city Evil Eye a pummelling – and loves it!

I Spy with my Evil Eye

I’ve been waiting ages, the two tie-dye bar staff employed to serve the perplexed clientele are busy having a cuddle, and subsequently I’m left to wait until this ceremonial bonding has ceased before I can realise the possibility of ordering a drink!!!! Buy hey, this is the Evil Eye and anything goes. It’s early Sunday evening and my companions and I are famished, only one thing will suffice, the Evil Eye monster roast! Armed with a bottle of some Polish brew that looks as though the Cheka had a hand in its distillation we Eye a seat and wait, and wait, and wait somewhat more. The Evil Eye has never been one for prompt service. However, the delay gives me an opportunity to reflect upon the growing popularity of this Asian inspired drinking den. Now personally I have never warmed to the new look Evil Eye. I think a certain familiarity was lost after the extension into the downstairs and as a huge fan of small first floor bars I esteemed the original Evil Eye as one of the cities finest. A multitude of rooms reminded me of a quaint traditional Yorkshire pub, whilst the elevation from the hustle of every day street life allowed a sense of escapism. And although slightly esoteric, the ambience never wavered from welcoming conviviality. But it’s done now, and it’s clear my nostalgic reminiscing is cared for little by the rest of York’s bar going population as the downstairs cocktail bar is packed. My food arrives and as always a reasonable Sunday fare of extreme proportions is devoured with Neolithic enthusiasm. Now that the hunger is satisfied I can turn my attentions to what the Evil Eye do best: cocktails, especially Mojitos. Behind the bar one of York’s finest mixoligists, Guy, moves to strike, mint is crushed, sugar and lime are pummelled, rum is allowed to cascade freely and the night is begun!!!! After an hour my misgivings have been drowned in Cuban liquor and cast upon the open sea, and any grumbles are but a glimpse on the now distant horizon, visible by only the keenest and most Evil of Eyes.

By Thomas Kershaw (The Hatted Man) on March 4, 2010


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