Puttin' on the Ruiz
Basics
Location
http://cafederuiz.com/
Per Person
€8 or so a cocktail.
Gratis: sweet and savoury nibbles.
In not so many words
Hopes?
Blimey, that's good!
Reality?
Blimey, that's good.
First Impressions?
Tonight we're gonna party like it's 1929.
A USP?
Well, yes. It looks like 1929.
The drinks in three words?
It's Cocktail O'clock.
Can they get the staff?
Not quite enough of them. Always friendly, not that speedy.
Service with a smile?
Extremely helpful. Went above and beyond on this occasion.
Would you take your friends?
Have done, do and will do.
Rating for a dating?
Yep, it's got it. Probably the place to go on to. May be the place to return to.
Tip?
Yep.
If you could change one thing, what would it be?
Bit more time to work out how to prepare one of the drinks.
Going back?
Soon.
In Pictures
Cafe de Ruiz on Google Images
In not so few words
Ceiling fans. Mirrors worn thin by decades of polishing. Cast iron frames and marble table tops. The only thing missing is the smoky atmosphere. With flashing-eyed señoritas and swarthy moustachioed hombres making eyes at each other across the crowded room, warmed for the winter by the flickering light of its fireplaces...
But this is 2017. No open fires any more. It's a very different kind of Tinder lighting things up nowadays. Oh for the romantic age. Sometimes. No tobacco any more. Thank the maker, there's an anti-smoking (ie a keep people alive longer) law saving you from a morning on the cough syrup.
So what did a couple of hours at the most atmospheric café in Malasaña have to offer?
It brought a lime daiquiri, for a start. Fresh. In the right sort of glass. Strong but juicy. So good you wished it was twice the size. A mango version of same came too. This was twice the size of its little sibling. Not my cup of tea in the slightest, and more like an alcoholic melted icecream or smoothie. We ended up sharing it around to try to finish the giant soup bowl glass of glowing orange gloopiness.
It brought a caipirinha. Now, you know the score, on this one. Lethal cachaca. Lots of ice. Lime chunks to beat hell out of. One Brazilian any of us might ask for. It might make your head ache, but it won't make your eyes water. It's as good as the lime daiquiri.
It brought a (Brandy) Alexander. Did this conquer the taste buds? Was it Brandy Alexander the Great? Well, according to HK, there was plenty of the brandy, but the lack of balance meant it was less...Feisty than it might have been. Not completely in tune with expectations, then.
It - eventually - brought a hot toddy. My mother, the partial Pioneer, is always banging on about hot toddies as the magic solution to man flu/colds/sniffles/the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything. Now, while the decor is barely out of prohibition, our barman looked firmly into Eurovision. In black trousers and shirt, with pencil-thin red tie, I really felt - keep an eye out for the drummer - the 80s coming back. This obviously pushed his cred fairly high,but postmodernist or not, he had not a Scooby about how to make a hot whiskey drink.
Toddy or not toddy? That was the question.
But would he be held back? Did he appreciate feeble Shakespeare-based wordplay? Did we try to make him go to rehab? No. No. No. Not when there's Ms Wikipedia on hand and Mr Ipad in hand. A quick google brought up the ingredients, but the quantities remained stubbornly hard to get the measure of. Solution? Toddy in the style of a vintage tea room! Jug of hot water? Tick. Glass of Jameson? Tick. Honey? Tick. Although it looked like they nipped to El Pico down the road for a plastic pot of it. Top class attempt, if not entirely successful at our end. Practice makes perfect, they say. In this case lack of practice meant perfectly sober. Ooops.
So.
Cafe Ruiz, then.
In a word?
Cheers!
Basics
Location
http://cafederuiz.com/
Per Person
€8 or so a cocktail.
Gratis: sweet and savoury nibbles.
In not so many words
Hopes?
Blimey, that's good!
Reality?
Blimey, that's good.
First Impressions?
Tonight we're gonna party like it's 1929.
A USP?
Well, yes. It looks like 1929.
The drinks in three words?
It's Cocktail O'clock.
Can they get the staff?
Not quite enough of them. Always friendly, not that speedy.
Service with a smile?
Extremely helpful. Went above and beyond on this occasion.
Would you take your friends?
Have done, do and will do.
Rating for a dating?
Yep, it's got it. Probably the place to go on to. May be the place to return to.
Tip?
Yep.
If you could change one thing, what would it be?
Bit more time to work out how to prepare one of the drinks.
Going back?
Soon.
In Pictures
Cafe de Ruiz on Google Images
In not so few words
Ceiling fans. Mirrors worn thin by decades of polishing. Cast iron frames and marble table tops. The only thing missing is the smoky atmosphere. With flashing-eyed señoritas and swarthy moustachioed hombres making eyes at each other across the crowded room, warmed for the winter by the flickering light of its fireplaces...
But this is 2017. No open fires any more. It's a very different kind of Tinder lighting things up nowadays. Oh for the romantic age. Sometimes. No tobacco any more. Thank the maker, there's an anti-smoking (ie a keep people alive longer) law saving you from a morning on the cough syrup.
So what did a couple of hours at the most atmospheric café in Malasaña have to offer?
It brought a lime daiquiri, for a start. Fresh. In the right sort of glass. Strong but juicy. So good you wished it was twice the size. A mango version of same came too. This was twice the size of its little sibling. Not my cup of tea in the slightest, and more like an alcoholic melted icecream or smoothie. We ended up sharing it around to try to finish the giant soup bowl glass of glowing orange gloopiness.
It brought a caipirinha. Now, you know the score, on this one. Lethal cachaca. Lots of ice. Lime chunks to beat hell out of. One Brazilian any of us might ask for. It might make your head ache, but it won't make your eyes water. It's as good as the lime daiquiri.
It brought a (Brandy) Alexander. Did this conquer the taste buds? Was it Brandy Alexander the Great? Well, according to HK, there was plenty of the brandy, but the lack of balance meant it was less...Feisty than it might have been. Not completely in tune with expectations, then.
It - eventually - brought a hot toddy. My mother, the partial Pioneer, is always banging on about hot toddies as the magic solution to man flu/colds/sniffles/the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything. Now, while the decor is barely out of prohibition, our barman looked firmly into Eurovision. In black trousers and shirt, with pencil-thin red tie, I really felt - keep an eye out for the drummer - the 80s coming back. This obviously pushed his cred fairly high,but postmodernist or not, he had not a Scooby about how to make a hot whiskey drink.
Toddy or not toddy? That was the question.
But would he be held back? Did he appreciate feeble Shakespeare-based wordplay? Did we try to make him go to rehab? No. No. No. Not when there's Ms Wikipedia on hand and Mr Ipad in hand. A quick google brought up the ingredients, but the quantities remained stubbornly hard to get the measure of. Solution? Toddy in the style of a vintage tea room! Jug of hot water? Tick. Glass of Jameson? Tick. Honey? Tick. Although it looked like they nipped to El Pico down the road for a plastic pot of it. Top class attempt, if not entirely successful at our end. Practice makes perfect, they say. In this case lack of practice meant perfectly sober. Ooops.
So.
Cafe Ruiz, then.
In a word?
Cheers!
