Shoreditch: Casita cocktail bar

Hey dudes! Gosh I’m fatally hung over today. We went out last night to Hawksmoor Shoreditch, then Dirty Dick’s, then the outstanding Casita cocktail bar, which I think is my favourite in London. It looks like someone opened out their garage, put up a wooden bar and started knocking together drinks, and it feels like an expat bar in the Spanish Caribbean: a slanting roof, bright walls, chili pepper Christmas lights on the bar and extremely friendly staff. The owner/manager actually works there – it’s not part of a chain or managed from Elsewhere – and he was there on Saturday early evening, pouring the staff (and us) a round of shots and knocking together drinks. I asked for “something black cherry-y” and received a lovely bourbon cocktail that I promptly dubbed “Charles II’s Cock” for reasons that were relevant to the conversation but are now lost to time. In retrospect, “naming cocktails after the genitals of 17th-century royals” is probably the point at which I should have realised it was time to stop drinking. But no, I returned home and killed most of a bottle of fizzy wine; WHY.

Black cherry cocktail at Casita
Because it’s reddish-purple and froths at the top, maybe? But why Charles II?

 

In the morning I woke up, dry heaved into the toilet for ten minutes (GLAMOROUS LONDON LIFESTYLE!) and am writing this post while curled up under a duvet weeping desperately.

You may have noticed it’s been a while since any Shakespeare travel (or possibly not): I started a new job in June, which is excellent but it has taken me a while to sort out holidays. But now I have some proper Shakespeare travel plans coming up at last! To create a vague feeling of narrative, I’m doing the plays in kind-of chronological order (with a few outliers); a lot of the early plays are set in England or Italy, which is super convenient. It will be lovely to see the map expand as I move through Shakespeare’s life.

So I’m off to Italy in March, which feels a lot longer time than I think it actually is, and despite last night’s effect on today’s wellbeing, in the next fortnight I’m hunting down Falstaff and Prince Hal in Eastcheap. (Eastcheap is full of awful City boys, I’m sure I’ll find six or seven Hals.)

In the meantime: hydration.

5 thoughts on “Shoreditch: Casita cocktail bar

  1. Nancy N says:

    Oh, actually I think the name is pretty apt. I mean, given his lifestyle the color and fermentation activity sound just about right. But if you want to rise above the belt, you could talk ART, the rejuvenation of life and color into the arts after Cromwell pretty much bashed the behoozis out of it all, so something purple and frothy and definitely not serious sounds very apropos.

    I hope you and your liver are holding a Sustainable Conversation and you are preserving each other for more fabulous discussions of theater in all its glory?

    Best,

    Auntie Nan

    • Kerry says:

      ART, the rejuvenation of life and color into the arts after Cromwell pretty much bashed the behoozis out of it all

      YES THIS IS TOTALLY THE REASON. Sticking with this.

      I think the several days' recuperation after each overindulgence is basically my liver self-regulating, right?

  2. That's it. We NEED to go out drinking before I leave the UK in mid-January. I want to name cocktails after royal genitalia and hurl Shakespearean insults. Also, I, too, have reached the dry-heaving hangover stage of life. Gone are the days when I would have a headache for an hour, curable with a bacon and fried egg sandwich. Now it's entire day hangovers, complete with dry heaving, self-pity and regret.

    • Kerry says:

      ACCURATE. I don't have my January work schedule yet but I should have some free days between then and now for cocktails and vomiting! YES.

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