I tried the retro and dreamy new vinyl listening bar that's situated in Edinburgh luxury hotel
This venue has been transformed into something very adult
After a weekend of babysitting, I was in the mood for some proper grown-up time.
We’d done soft play, met Santa, and, once the kids had been returned to their rightful owner, we were booked in to try refurbished The Caley Bar, at The Caledonian Edinburgh.
I’ve been into this iconic venue loads of times over the years, and it’s had various incarnations. However, I think this era is my favourite.
Inspired by a Japanese kissa bar, the design reminds me of a Sixties recording studio, though it’s less contrived than that sounds.
There are velvety draped curtains, a glamorous burgundy colour scheme, and swirly patterns, like record grooves on the carpet, while the staff wear very stylish-looking white waistcoats.
On our arrival, they were playing Amy Winehouse, and the sleeve was tucked into a rack that flashed neon “now playing”.
We were ready to spin the wheels of steel, so asked how the system works, but they said that’s yet to be decided. I suppose they don’t want people messing about with the fancy turntable. Us Generation Xs can work one, but I imagine they would confuse Generation Z as much as a VHS player or a Walkman.
Apparently, there are occasional DJs. Or, you can request a classic album, from choices including The Velvet Underground, Primal Scream’s Screamdelica and Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On, and they’ll put it on for you.
As well as the decor, the cocktail menu has had a makeover.
We kicked off with a Ceviche (£18.50) for my B-side boy, and a White Waistcoat (£18) for me.
“This is the best cocktail I’ve had for years,” was his verdict on the blend of green pepper-infused Hendrick’s Gin, chilli and elderflower. He even did a little chef’s kiss gesture, which I’ve never witnessed him do before in 20-odd years of togetherness. This drink was very intriguing - rather savoury, but with an ozone-y hit, and a blob of what tasted like jalapeno oil floating on the top like a lilypad.
My frothy-topped option was fresh and sweet, but with a vague hot toddy tone, thanks to a combo of The Botanist aged gin, sesame, miso honey and lemon.
It went straight to my woozy head, as all my child-care trauma evaporated. Nobody to look after, apart from ourselves. Slay!
We didn’t have to worry about kids potentially using the LPs as Frisbees or asking for the Italian Brainrot Song. Don’t ask.
At this point, they put on The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, which I played to death back in 1998, when it was released. I know every lyric but tried not to sing. Nobody wants to hear me croaking along to Do Wop (That Thing).
There’s a menu of bar snacks and bites, to mop up the booze.
Our pair of eyeball-sized arancini (£9) were ideal - toasty hot, cheesy and truffly, with toppings of parsley emulsion and a flurry of Pecorino gratings. While, the lobster and prawn roll (£18) was a pair of fancy doorstopper sannies, on thickly sliced and sweet brioche bread, with a dill-laced mixture of seafood inside.
We also had the double fried chicken (£9) - three crispy Panko-crumbed pieces, each the size of Michael Jackson’s fingerless glove, with a Sriracha-ish sesame chilli dip on the side.
Number four snack was the potato terrine (£8), which consisted of two bricks of tattie with a large blob of creme fraiche and caviar on top.
After the addition of a few gobstopper Gordal olives (£4) and jumbo corn nibbles (£4), we were in agreement that we wouldn’t be needing any actual dinner when we got home.
Just as well, as the kids had locusted through all our supplies.
However, there was to be a second cocktail each for the road. That’s about my limit.
He went for the Massaman (£18.50), which contained double rums in the form of Takamaka Extra Noir and Ninefold Merchant Parrot Overproof, plus coconut, Amontillido Sherry, and the green-tea-based Three Families Amethyst Punch, all poured over a giant branded ice-cube.
I opted for the acidic ancho chilli dusted BCD (£17.50), with discarded banana peel rum and lime.
We ended up swapping, since he was obsessed with mine - again, he said, “this is also the best cocktail I’ve had in years” and did a chef’s kiss - and I preferred his version, which had a milky and mellow mouth-coating vibe.
After two drinks each, we both wanted to hear Screamadelica, but we’d already been in situ for two entire albums worth of time. In fact, Lauryn Hill had been flipped back onto her A side, like a piece of French toast.
Anyway, I loved listening to those records in their entirety, especially when accompanied by some excellent drinks and appropriate snackage.
Very grown-up indeed. Chef’s kiss.
The Caley Bar, The Caledonian Edinburgh (0131-222 8832, www.hilton.com)
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