BACK TO THE TWENTIES: A SPEAKEASY EVENING WITH BLIND PIG CIDER

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When drinking the same old drinks in normal bars no longer does the trick, Blind Pig Cider has a cunning plan. TinMan London was invited to behold the world of the speakeasy in its full glory.

Hidden behind an archaic East London butcher’s, on a quaint Victorian street, these cider brewers have stowed away a speakeasy of decadent proportions. So decadent in fact, we tried to resurrect the great F. Scott Fitzgerald to do it justice. That failed.

So, with no literary greats to aid us, we used the exclusive key mailed to us to unlock our way into a speakeasy time vault. While elegant flapper girls took our coats, a bearded gentlemen supplied us with [fake] dollars to [fake] gamble with, all while drinking fine cider.

Despite the meaty and underwhelming exterior of the place – hanging pork products are not normally encouraging signs of debauchery and opulence – Blind Pig delivered four floors of decadent entertainment. Even the building’s antique and wooden interior nestled you into an authentic lull of old fashioned vice. Shame I forgot my suspenders.

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With their interesting blends of cider to drink, talented bar staff to pour them, a live Dixieland jazz band to dance to, and roulette to play, we were overwhelmed with opportunities to indulge.

But why transfix on the past alone? The night also showcased some fine Blind Pig inspired contemporary artwork from the Blind Pig Collective – rival to the infamous decadence of the 1920’s. The likes of Adam Simpson, Shonagh Rae and Laura Carlin translated the speakeasy romanticisms onto canvas in a variety of engaging styles.

Mr. Simpson summed up both his artwork, Secret Knocks, and the feel of the prohibitionist evening when he remarked, “I liked the idea that behind a seemingly anonymous building, there was a place that brought people from all walks of life, who collectively forgot their worries. I wanted to create an intriguing scene with hidden layers.”

ADAM FINALThe hued, yet vibrant colours of the artwork effectively relay the luxury of the evening, and this speakeasy will live on in the hushed whispers of strangers united in secret decadence.

Yet, the night had but one flaw. The [fake] authorities caught on. By the end of the evening, when everything was in full swing, the coppers bust in and shut it all down. But don’t worry, barrels of Blind Pig were not destroyed in the street. I personally saw to it that the Blind Pig sweetness steered well clear of Brick Lane’s gutters.

For more info on the good stuff visit: blindpigcider.co.ukinstagram.com/blindpigcider