(House of Wolf has now closed)
From it's branding as a palace of party pups, to it's cultivation of Victorian trinkets, House of Wolf is a markedly charming departure from the razzle-dazzle cocktail bars of our current, cosmopolitan heyday. I fluffed up my fur and headed for a night of mixology mystery at House of Wolf, but did I make it in to the pack?
The Venue:
More of a town house than a bar per say, House of Wolf was a cornucopia of cool coves and Victorian interiors. Taken through the music hall to the upstairs Apothecary, we found ourselves in a den of dastardly and dated interiors. From draws bustling with ingredients and crates boasting oil lamps, to a hidden, barely lit, space behind a bookshelf for those after a more intimate liquid encounter, the Apothecary is the ultimate drinking discipline. Also, take note, this space smells like the best man you've never met. Amorous barely cuts it.
Heading downstairs, the Music Hall boasts the space for just that, music. An elongated and somewhat intimate stage area illuminated by a geometric backdrop, this room boasts the same knack for history - its zany collection of furniture injecting a little more attitude into affairs.
Take to the Apothecary for a veritable wonderland of weird and wicked concoctions.
The Drinks:
Wait, whaddya mean by NO MENU?! Some may be bewildered, but this is finally the kind of bar where 'what do you recommend' isn't met by a barrage of huffs and ice cubes hurled at your noggin. Rather, the second floor Apothecary at House of Wolf operates a no-menu policy - the crafty devils. I'm a bit of a rum baron, and with that said, our barman had rustled me up an 'Outer Space' before I'd had time to explain all of the silly things I'd done while drinking it. Rum blended with raspberies, hand-made ginger syrup (courtesy of the chap himself), and Wray and Nephew rum, it was dry, tart and felt like home. Did you also know that space is supposed to smell like raspberries? Clever cocktail pitch, i'm buying it.
And while the Music Hall below may actually boast a menu, it didn't seem to lack any of the intrigue that of the upstairs bar. A sweet yet valiant Espresso Martini, the first of which to ever sway me, proved that House of Wolf run an inherent 'make those cocktails damn delicious' policy.
Expect nothing but the most unique concoctions, where menus are but a thing of the past.
The Atmosphere:
For all of its antiquarianism, House of Wolf doesn't draw in an older crowd. Echoing the independent, and dare I say often affluent, swarms of folk that Islington is lovingly houses, House of Wolf isn't a den of crooning old canines, but rather plucky pups. And while The Apothecary is evidently more suited to young thirty-somethings looking to sup on more refined ingredients, you young'uns clearly couldn't resist the fun filled throngs of the Music Hall below where beats are blended with broody nooks.
Downstairs in the Music Hall, music and cool indie locals reign supreme.
Summary
Drag yourself away from the heart of Angel and discover a venue that has innards and intrinsically fun crowds on point. Bulging with beards, beats and a cleverly concocted selection of drinks, House of Wolf blend artisan mixology with must-try nights out alike. Now then House of Wolf, where's my invite to join the Wolf Pack?
