Classy, friendly, value-for-money. Hummingbird is none of these things and less. One of the G1 group's newer assaults on the senses, this Bath St restaurant and bar does the style-over-substance thing to a tee. Those G1 peeps have got you pegged. You don't want well made cocktails, accurate menus and the ability to actually talk to each other do you Hummingbird patrons? Heck no, you've got all that "bohemian", "eccentric" décor to look at, and wicker egg chairs to swing around in, and besides, you're too busy wondering about when your ears are going to stop bleeding from all that middle-of-the-road electro to think about enjoying your food.
Sigh. I actually really wanted to like Hummingbird. Honest. I came for the half-price cocktails, and stayed for the half-price cocktails. I'm a cheap date. And I'm willing to put up with most bars' shortcomings for the sake of a decent French martini. Plus Hummingbird, with all its award-winning stylishness and funky seating, just looked so cool, and I'm a sucker for cool.
But Hummingbird, you just weren't making it easy for me, were you? My friends and I were excited to see your bar menu, with its promises of toasted marshmallows (cute!) and tasty nachos (yum!). But they were not for us, were they? When we asked the sullen bartender about food he seemed utterly incredulous that we should think the menu contained items that were actually available. At coming up for 8.30pm, all the bar food was out. Obviously. So I settled for the chocolate raisins that I was told might just be around somewhere, only to discover that I'd been given chocolate peanuts when I took them back to the table. It was tempting to feign dramatic peanut-allergy reactions, but I resisted the urge.
The cocktails were passable, although the Cosmopolitan my friend ordered came with a huge chunk of orange peel that the bartender didn't bother to flame when he made the drink, rendering it kind of pointless. The drinks were cheap though, and the alcohol worked. So points for that.
We sat in the restaurant part of the venue, where we hoped for a chat-friendly atmosphere, but this was somewhat scuppered by the hilariously bad DJ slumped diffidently over his decks in the corner, churning out brain-crunchingly loud electro with all the mercy of a lobotomised executioner.
According to Hummingbird's website, if we'd wandered around a bit more we would have discovered a magical land of hot tubs and wii rooms and massage tables and bikinis. But, you know, if you can't manage decent drinks, a reliable menu and friendly service, I'm not going to be that impressed if you decide to add diamond-encrusted peacocks and ballet-dancing lobsters to the mix. Well, maybe ballet-dancing lobsters would swing it. Maybe. read more