Review by Robert Fenner Dec. 9 (Bloomberg) — Fancy a martini amid the trappings of a turn-of-the century opium den? Or perhaps a nip of Grey Goose vodka in a former laboratory? And how about an Ethiopian beer at a bar named after a brothel owner from the 19th century? Welcome to Melbourne’s bars, where barkeeps have reclaimed empty warehouses, workshops and buildings in graffiti-lined laneways that snake between the city’s main thoroughfares. Most popped up in the past decade, when the city’s liquor licensing rules changed to make it easier for smaller joints to open, and virtually all nod to the past in some way. My guests and I started off our exploration of the city’s watering holes at Madame Brussels , a rooftop bar that offers views of the Victorian state Parliament. Making your way past the pre-theater dinner crowd of the ground-floor restaurant and a Japanese karaoke bar on the second, customers emerge into a pastel-hued garden party, complete with grass, trellising, and a gazebo — and that’s indoors. Out on the terrace, waiters dressed straight out of the 1920s with cream slacks, waistcoats and flat caps, serve beer, wine and carafes of Sangria. Eschewing the Pimms of the raucous table next to us, we ordered Yebisu beer from Japan (A$8, $7.30) and St. George (A$9) from Ethiopia, with the latter promising a donation to charity. Both were cold, crisp and refreshing, although not nearly as chilly as the plunging evening temperature. Fear not though, our attentive waiter offered blankets, necessary in a city known for its capricious climate. Opium Den After a few cozy beers under our pastel-colored blankets, we decided to move on, two blocks south, to Gin Palace . As the name suggests, this subterranean bar specializes in martinis. With low lighting, tasseled drapes, quiet alcoves and well-worn sofas, it mimics the decadence of an old gentleman’s club and the imagery of a 19th-century opium den. My guest and I ordered the Luis Bunuel surrealist martini (A$17.50), inspired by the Spanish-born filmmaker who clearly felt “the drier the better” when it came to his liquor. The gin, antique shaker and glasses are frozen for two days before being shaken over ice with a drop or two of Noilly Prat vermouth and some Angostura bitters for a pink hue. The result is a powerful, dry drink that would do the filmmaker proud, dominated by the gin whose frozen state ensures minimal dilution when mixed with ice. A small but well-chosen wine list, selection of beers and up-market bar snacks (anchovies and olives, aged cheese) add to the opulence, while dim lighting adds to the mystique. Graffiti, Garbage We decided to move on so we didn’t get too comfortable. Through a graffiti-covered alleyway dotted with the garbage bins of nearby Chinese restaurants, we found the Croft Institute , a venue often packed despite its covert location. We took a table that resembled a laboratory bench in the street-level main bar, surrounded by neon-lit display cases full of beakers, test tubes and other equipment I haven’t seen since my high school chemistry class. Spirits are the specialty here, with a nip of Yamazaki 12- year-old single-malt Japanese whisky costing A$14.50, while a mint julep sets you back A$16. With a dance floor a couple of levels up and bathrooms in between that look like a ward from “ One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest ,” Croft somehow creates a cool, if slightly creepy vibe. With the remaining night hours shrinking fast, we pondered our next move and decided on a meal at Supper Inn, which serves Cantonese food until 2:30 a.m. Refueled by spicy calamari and barbequed suckling pig, we decided on a nightcap. Prison-Yard Chic The nearby Section-8 beckoned, where a couple of shipping containers make up the bar in a fenced-off confine that looks more like a prison yard than chic city bar. Unfortunately, it was closing time there, so it was on to the six-story Curtin House, home to a collection of bars and restaurants, the owner’s apartment and a Kung Fu academy. Once home to the headquarters of the Australian Communist party, the building now houses Cookie Bar on the first level, which serves drinks and Thai food, and Toff in Town restaurant on the second, an eatery and live-music venue that serves tapas in train carriage cabins until 5 a.m. We went past both to the Rooftop bar. Lacking some of the more lavish options of downstairs, the level-six bar (which doubles as an open-air cinema in summer) affords views over Melbourne’s retail and commercial district. With cold beers in hand we could gaze upon the headquarters of BHP Billiton Ltd., the world’s largest mining company, built behind the facade of a former hospital: the best place to finish a night’s travel through Melbourne’s bars and industrial past. Croft Institute, 21 Croft Alley, Melbourne, http://www.thecroftinstitute.com.au , Tel: +613-9671-4399; Madame Brussels, Level 3, 59-63 Bourke Street Melbourne, http://www.madamebrussels.com , Tel: +613-9228-2775; Gin Palace, 10 Russell Place, Melbourne, http://www.ginpalace.com.au , Tel: +613-9654-0533. Curtin House, 252 Swanston Street, Melbourne. Supper Inn, 15 Celestial Avenue, Melbourne. The Bloomberg Questions Cost? A$10 – A$25 per drink. Sound level? Croft Institute is loud; could carry on a conversation at the others. Date place? Only at Gin Palace. Inside tip? For groups, ask for the parlor at Madame Brussels. Private room? Only at Madame Brussels. Rating: Croft Institute **, Madame Brussels ***, Gin Palace **, Curtin House ** (Robert Fenner writes for Bloomberg News. Opinions expressed are his own.) To contact the reporter on this story: Robert Fenner in Melbourne rfenner@bloomberg.net
