Two For The Road

Sydney Morning Herald

Tuesday May 6, 2008

Lenny Ann Low

Bar Europa

Basement level, 82-88 Elizabeth Street, city, 9232 3377

Open Tue-Fri noon-late, Sat 6pm-late.

Crowd City workers conversing with gusto.

Vibe Subterranean chic.

Speed-daters abound as two dynamic types contemplate a show of their own.

DESCENDING the stylish curved staircase into this dimly lit, below-ground, sassy drinking den, we sight a dozen couples roaring at each other over tealights.

It is speed-dating night in Bar Europa's marble-floored and dark-toned main bar and the cacophony of hopeful love is mighty. This is splendid for humanity but not conducive to cocktails with a treasured chum.

We turn left and walk along a corridor towards the two back rooms. Here the mood is more intimate, with two stools the only seats free at a table in front of lift doors. In this spot the chum and I feel as if we're out for a tipple in a hastily assembled foyer cantina. It won't do.

We pine for the seating area opposite us, a cosy alcove framed by dark wooden shutters with burgundy-and-gold wallpaper, a nifty, two-sided bar and caramel-hued leather pouffes and a banquette trimmed with plum and bronze-edged cushions. Oh, the luxury. The chum spots a group of people vacating a corner spot and we're across the room in nanoseconds, flinging our purses and bodies against leather and cushions in the room's ruby glow.

This is one very good reason to have a drink at Bar Europa: nothing flatters one's facial features more than low-level, gently rosy light. It also disguises the slightly battered nature of the bar's tables.

Revelling in the beneficial illumination, the chum and I take mobile phone photos of each other's sudden beauty for posterity. But no matter how many times we lift our chins or position the lens high above our heads for best effect, the results are sorely unflattering. I look like an inflated and contorted red balloon wearing a flattened wig and the chum makes me delete every photo of her lest anyone else view it.

I order a margarita ($15), which is suitably citrusy and salt-edged but a little too sour. The companion's request for "a drink that will make me feel like I am on a tropical beach" inspires the affable barman to suggest a desert island ($15) - a tall coconut- and pineapple-infused cocktail she downs happily in minutes.

We rip through a tasty king prawn pizza ($20) - low light also, happily, disguises appalling displays of gluttony - before marvelling at the theatrical possibilities of Bar Europa's third room, visible through the bar and filled with men in suits. One wall of the room features a section of red velvet curtains.

Perhaps fortified by our next round, a lusty caipirinha ($15) and caprioska ($15) with a delicate English rose mocktail ($8), I wonder aloud if there is a stage behind the curtains and, if so, what a great spot for two chums to put on their little-known comedy double-act.

But the hour is late, with the speed-daters gone and the bar staff hovering for our benefit only. So we reluctantly leave the stylish cavern, returning our unique stage talents to the cold and unflatteringly lit world above.

© 2008 Sydney Morning Herald

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