Red Vine Bar — Restaurant in London

Tucked away on a cracked side street in the old garment district, where boarded-up shopfronts outnumber working ones, sits The Hollow Lantern—a bar with no sign, no promises, and no pretense. You don’t find it through ads or trendy Instagram reels. You find it the way people used to find warmth in winter: by following the light. At first glance, it looks like just another spillover relic of the 1970s, caught in a neighborhood that the city’s gentrification machine either forgot or avoided on purpose. The red neon “OPEN” sign flickers like it’s running on borrowed time. A rusted security gate, permanently stuck halfway up, adds a sense of indifference rather than welcome. If you didn’t know better, you’d think the place had been condemned and just hadn’t gotten the paperwork yet. But push open the door, and there’s a shift—not dramatic, but palpable. It smells like wood polish, cigarette ghosts, and spilled whiskey that never got cleaned up properly. The lighting is low and amber, catching just enough of the bar’s warped mahogany counter to feel cozy, even if the stool cushions are torn and the floor tiles cracked. There’s music, but it never competes with the conversations. That’s a choice, not a failure. On my first visit, an old jukebox in the back played Sam Cooke, then The Clash, then a bootleg recording of some blues guitarist nobody could name. The bartender—Elena, maybe in her 40s, maybe older, sharp-eyed and kind only when she wants to be—knows everyone by what they drink, not what they do. And that brings me to the heart of the place: its people. The Hollow Lantern isn’t a bar you come to in celebration. It’s the kind you find when the world gets a little too loud, or too quiet. A place for people who live with less and carry more. On any given night, you’ll see a retired bus driver nursing a shot and a beer combo while watching the game on a dusty TV in the corner. A man in paint-splattered jeans falls asleep in his booth before his drink even arrives. A woman with too much eyeliner and not enough hope shuffles through job listings in a wrinkled newspaper like it’s 1998. Even the jukebox skips sometimes, like it's tired of playing background music to disappointment. Poverty hangs over the place, not as spectacle, but as atmosphere. This bar doesn’t hide from it. It exists within it. There’s no faux industrial chic, no $16 cocktails with foam and rosemary sprigs. The beer is domestic, the whiskey is bottom shelf, and the menu (if you can call it that) features microwaved burritos and chips that come in a bag. The toilet barely works, and the door has to be kicked shut. Yet no one complains—because for many, The Hollow Lantern is one of the few places they can still afford to exist in without apology. It’s not that the owners don’t care. It’s that they understand. Every corner of the bar seems to say: We know. We’ve been there too. That’s why the regulars keep coming. In a city that punishes slowness and punishes poverty even harder, this place doesn’t ask questions. It just opens its arms, if only a little. There’s a black-and-white photo taped behind the bar of what this neighborhood used to look like—kids playing stickball, corner stores that sold milk and bread on credit. That photo has faded with time, just like the people in it, just like the promises made to the folks who built these streets and now can’t afford to walk them. But here, in this flickering sanctuary, there’s a strange kind of dignity. The kind that doesn’t come from pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, but from surviving when no one thought you would. It’s in the way someone buys a round even though they clearly shouldn’t. It’s in the shared ashtray and the patched-up pool table and the bar tab someone forgot to pay six months ago but swears they’ll make good on, someday.

In...

I'm not one to leave reviews, but this dining experience - which ultimately ended prematurely without the dining element - truly warrants it. This was possibly the worst 'dining' experience I have had. It would receive a 'no star' review if it were possible.

We were given a large table outside at the back of the restaurant, with nothing other than some table candles and a burnt out fire for warmth. It was approximately 4°. Our requests for a heater or some wood for the fire were seemingly ignored or fell on deaf ears.

Having sat down at our table at 6pm, we were still waiting for our pizzas at 745. The excuse offered was that we had not pre-ordered - when no instruction to do so was given on making our reservation, and nowhere is it indicated on the website that pre-ordering is required. On stating this, we were told that, as we had ordered pizza - the only main dish available - it would take longer to prepare our food. The first two pizzas finally brought out were cold. They were duly sent back and the rest of our order cancelled.

Throughout this debacle, the customer service was absolutely appalling. The waitress was unbelievably rude and arrogant in dismissing our requests for an update on when our food would arrive or when we could be given a heater. Not once did she - or any other employee other than the final supervisor we spoke to before leaving - apologise.

To top it off, on being presented with the bill for our drinks (which also took almost an hour to arrive, but admittedly were quite nice), we saw that a 12.5% gratuity had been applied. On stating we did not expect to pay any more then the £100 deposit put up in advance, we eventually settled the bill with the gratuity removed and 25% discount applied.

Certainly not somewhere we will...

I went here for a friend’s birthday who had booked 2 months in advance for a table of 12. Upon arriving we were lead through the restaurant to what seemed like a big shed out back which was decorated with fairy lights and candles and heated with a log burner, which at first seemed quite cosy. However within about 20 minutes the lights broke and the fire burnt out and was not topped up with wood (despite us asking). So we were essentially sat in the cold and in the dark, to the point where we could see our breath and we were all sat in our coats. In regards to the food, I would love to have reviewed it but since we sat there (in the cold and in the dark) for 1hr 45 and the only thing that arrived in that time were 2 cold pizzas (which were sent back) I sadly have nothing to review. Upon patiently asking when the food would arrive and for an explanation of the hold up, we were told “well you didn’t pre order”. The main food on the menu is pizza, which we had all ordered. During the booking, our friend was not given the option to preorder food, only drinks, otherwise she would have. The drinks that arrived were nice, however we were there for a dinner reservation not for just drinks. I would say generally the service was appalling as throughout this there was no apology given and in the end when we decided to leave without having had our food, we were told to pay the bill (although having already paid a £100 deposit) to which they added a 12.5% tip! All the low reviews are hidden behind 5 star reviews which customers are incentivised to leave in order to be given free shots. Would not recommend going here on an empty stomach as it will...