When you arrive at The Breakfast Club, a hipster’s dining paradise, you are faced with retro artifacts, kitschy knick knacks, fun decor, and a big ol’ fashioned fridge. For those who know to ask, this fridge opens up and serves as a door to an underground bar.
The fridge and the unsuspecting diners
As you know, a speakeasy was a place that served alcohol in secret during the prohibition. You had to know where to go, who to speak to, and what to say to get in. The “speakeasy” underneath The Breakfast Club tries to replicate this process. When greeted at the restaurant’s door, you have to ask to be let ino The Mayor of Scaredy Cat Town, their basement bar. Your host or hostess will go ask someone else. This person will then lead you through the bar, past a neon sign that reads “thrills,” and into a tiny little cove of a bar. In the dimly lit bar, there are high tables and benches lining the sides, a rustic corner with arm chairs, and strange odds and ends everywhere, including a cartoon portrait of an old lady wearing bling and sunglasses, reading “Gran Master Funk” and a sign that reads “no heavy petting.”
The first time I went, the friendly waitress handed us menus, complete with a list of rules for appropriate speakeasy behaviour (for example, you may only use the fridge door for your first entry of the night and never ever as an exit), and she told us that it was happy hour. At £5 a pop until 6pm, we sampled some delicious cocktails, like the Rosey and Gin– a combination of gin, lemon, and a hint of rosemary (though the pear cardamom combination is also worth mentioning).
Scaredy Cat Cocktail
We walked over straight from work in hopes of grabbing a table before it got crowded. Between 5 and 6, this place is generally empty. By 7– on a Tuesday night, mind you– there was elbow room only. This has always been the case each time I go back. I’d hate to see it on a weekend.
No, it was never a real prohibition-time speakeasy, and no it’s not a real secret (The Breakfast Club’s menu mentions it, if you read closely enough) bar. But watching the looks on diners’ faces when you walk into a fridge and don’t emerge again is priceless.
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