Nightjar

A door with no sign and a member of staff checking names against a reservation list, on a stretch of City Road that gives nothing away, is Nightjar’s whole opening pitch, and more than a decade in it still works. Down a narrow staircase, the basement recreates a 1920s speakeasy with enough conviction that the theatrics never feel cheap: low lighting, leather booths, and a small stage for a jazz or blues act that plays several sets most nights, starting around nine.

Cocktails are built by decade, drawing on techniques and spirits from specific eras of drinking history, and the menu changes with enough regularity that a regular’s favourite from two years ago may well have vanished. Expect house infused spirits, unusual bitters and a level of technical fuss that justifies the higher price tag most drinks carry, generally in the mid teens.

There is a cover charge after 8pm, typically five to ten pounds a head, which goes directly to the musicians rather than the house, a detail that tends to soften the grumbling once explained. Seating is compulsory and the venue is booking only for most of the evening, so turning up on spec rarely works.

It suits a date or a small group wanting a proper occasion rather than a quick drink, the sort of place you dress a little for and stay in for the whole evening rather than moving on. Walk in space is limited, so the reservation really is the way in.

The honest caveat is that the speakeasy format, having been widely copied across London since Nightjar opened, has lost some of its novelty, and the combination of cover charge, higher drink prices and a strict booking system can feel like a lot of friction for what is, underneath the theatrics, a very good bar. It remains one of the best places in the city for live jazz with a serious cocktail list, but go in expecting a managed experience rather than a spontaneous one.