Cantaloupe - Shoreditch - Brought to you by James Wormald -

How often do you go out drinking in Shoreditch? Once a week? Two weeks? Month? Daily? Never? Show of hands will do. C’mon, be honest. There’s no judgement here, just a simple survey that’s all. That’s the spirit! Right... Chances are, I can tell exactly what type of person you are from your answer. And those are the kinds of snap judgements this world thrives on.

The Shoreditch drinker is creative, or likes to think of themselves as such. They’re a music fan, but only of bands no one else has heard of, priding themselves on spotting the next up and coming thing by mentioning every tiny garage band and soulless singer/songwriter frequenting local open-mikes. As soon as any new band makes it into the Radio One playlist, Shoreditchians will spend a period of 1 hour boasting how they ‘saw them in a basement in Stoke before anyone else, back when they had different hair.’ After that they’ll be thrown back into the hoards of the other media-made EMI machines, blamed for all of their industry’s ills.

Often, they’ll strictly be rotting in the middle-class humdrums they find so embarrassing, much preferring to pretend their history is one of toil, and miserable heartache. Cantaloupe however, seems to be a little different. It’s in Shoreditch sure, but also close enough to the offices of Liverpool St to make it a favourite for the occasional London, normal person too. Its clientele is a fair reflection of the mix.

Truth is, I should be heralding the place as one to look out for. In an area of town such as this, it’s not often you find anywhere seemingly so down-to-earth and self-aware.

Let’s start off with the interior. As you walk in to the first room you’re hit with a Roman Hostel feeling (I’ve been to a Roman Hostel which looks exactly like it). Square, chunky wooden log tables and benches spanning the width of the room. This Wagamama branded seating arrangement I’ll bet makes socialising privately with your own gang a little less private, but gives the feeling of a bigger network. It’s easier to get involved with next door’s conversation. And if you bang in a few comments of your own, it’s fine. We’re all sat at the same table, we must be friends right? Not to your taste? Require a more private conversation with only your close friends and relatives? Need to reveal a debilitating illness, or surprising sexual orientation but don’t for some reason want to do it at home? Fine. Walk through to the back room and you’ve got three or four large leather sofa’d areas to sit back in. Encircled in to each other, and away from others. Perfect. Speaking of soft leather sofas, the blacks and browns go well with the wall hugging mood lighting and dark brick, yet warm walls.

What looks like a respectable food menu is planted on each table. Usual mains like Steak, Fish & Chips, or Sausage & Mash for £8-9 (£15 Steak), and with interesting starters or tapas dishes for £3-5 a pop they don’t do bad. Plus, if again you feel like a bit of privacy with your meal, there’s another individual table seating area round the back with a touch higher chairs like a proper restaurant.

The drinks menu could have done with more thought, with one draught cider I’d never heard of, and a menu that reads ‘Lager – Stella’. Bitter? Stella. Stout? Stella.

BEER SELECTION: Stella. Stella. Or Stella. Good if you’re Wayne Rooney. Not quite this bad, but not far off. **

COST OF A ROUND: Poorest thing about it. One pint of cider and a soft drink = Metal change from a ten. **

STAFF: Do their job. Weirdly spacious for a Thursday early evening, so very quick service. ****

FOOD: Sounds nice enough to try. Prices aren’t too bad either in comparison to others. ****

SKIRT RATIO: Already described it as ‘spacious’ you’d think the atmosphere is affected. Not so. It’s got a lovely, leisurely feel to it. Plus the communal tables promote group interaction if you want it. ****

Overall: In the grand scheme, I quite like the place. The prices, and a lack of favoured drinks mean it’s no ‘dead cert’, but I could spend many a happy evening sinking a few in a dark corner. ****