Don’t be fooled by the tiny triangular bar at street level; Grape’s bunch of regulars – studious horn-rims, raucous raconteurs & roly-poly Beryl Cook blondes – are all below stairs, toasting Bacchus with bottles of Bollinger in the bowels of this jolly quaint joint. The wine list cannily eschews Château d’Yquem & other highfalutin vintages in favour of cheeky Chablis & rich claret at £30; alternatively, roll with a red/white/rosé trio comprising Portuguese Palmela, Spanish Verdejo & a chilled Côtes de Provence that drinks like a summer night in Cassis. The bar’s retro-kitsch, ‘grapey’ decor is as homely as sticky toffee pud, the sort of filler you’ll find on a menu of keenly priced, bistro-style crowd-pleasers along with steak & chips, pastas, burgers, game & offal. Bibliophiles & loners can even browse the bar’s little library.
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