It may not be what we were expect­ing from a “West Hol­ly­wood lounge expe­ri­ence”, but all that mon­ey cer­tain­ly has ensured that Fox­glove is a vast­ly more impres­sive visu­al expe­ri­ence than the ol’ Loaded Hog. But a bar is not just about the pret­ty, so how does it stack up? See what the ‘fly thinks after the jump.

Beer: For an alleged brew­ery, the Loaded Hog always served dread­ful beer. Fox­glove’s selec­tion may not impress ded­i­cat­ed hop­heads (get thee to Hashigo Zake!), but there are a few qua­si-inter­est­ing drops (Leffe Blonde, Lit­tle Crea­tures) amongst the dross. It’s just a pity that the drinks list can’t spell “Hoe­gar­den” (sic) or “Gui­ness” (real­ly sic).

Wine: The wine list is sol­id if unad­ven­tur­ous, with an empha­sis on famil­iar, easy-to-drink vari­etals, and a decent selec­tion by the glass. It’s all very Kiwi-cen­tric, with a few Aussie reds, and while I’m all for a sen­si­ble approach to reduc­ing booze miles, it would be nice if more bars realised that there’s more to Europe than Cham­pagne and Port.

Cock­tails: The house cock­tails are an admirable blend of neglect­ed clas­sics (Income Tax, Avi­a­tion, Aper­ol Spritz) and more recent con­coc­tions … though should­n’t we be thor­ough­ly over the Falling Water by now? This fly is yet to try any of their more spe­cial­ist recipes, but our cock­tail expe­ri­ences here have ranged from a cou­ple of more than ser­vice­able Mar­ti­nis to what one acknowl­edged expert described as “the worst Man­hat­tan of his life”. Oh dear.

Food: After a rare rave review from David Bur­ton, we had to try the food, and in gen­er­al it did not dis­ap­point. There’s the odd fusionesque touch, but most of the menu leans towards mod­ern Euro­pean, with an empha­sis on lux­u­ry ingre­di­ents such as truf­fles, veni­son, oys­ters and foie gras. They can play fast and loose with def­i­n­i­tions (just what is “Wagyu farm lot reared veni­son” when it’s at home?), but there are some tru­ly deli­cious dish­es to be had, such as the roast duck with laven­der and Val­rhona choco­late reduc­tions.

The sides are just as mouth-water­ing, and the small plates range from ade­quate to deli­cious: sor­ry, geese, but the foie gras par­fait with fig jam & cor­ni­chons was worth your sac­ri­fice. A word of warn­ing: the mains look like good val­ue at most­ly $23–29, but despite the gen­eros­i­ty of the meat serv­ings, most come with no starch or veg, so plan to buy some sides.

Music: On one occa­sion there seemed to be a jazz band warm­ing up ear­ly in the evening, but it’s most­ly piped tunes, tend­ing towards the loud side. There’s the usu­al boomer-friend­ly “clas­sics”, and a rel­a­tive­ly inof­fen­sive cross-sec­tion of recent pop, plus a few sur­pris­ing­ly qua­si-hip­ster­ish choic­es such as Lady­hawke and LCD Sound Sys­tem.

Decor: There cer­tain­ly are some spec­tac­u­lar set pieces to jus­ti­fy the megabucks, such as the two-storey liv­ing wall and the green-tiled main bar. The spher­i­cal hang­ing lights & bas­kets out­side worked rather nice­ly, though the out­door booths looked rough and unfin­ished. Hav­ing a col­lec­tion of ran­dom knick-knacks seems de rigueur these days (hel­lo, Bet­tys), but the use of bell jars and uni­form white paint (white-paint­ed dinosaurs!) helps Fox­glove’s ver­sion seem slight­ly less arbi­trary.

Con­vert­ing a beer barn into some­thing more inti­mate requires a care­ful approach to defin­ing sep­a­rate spaces, and that had mixed results. The din­ing area some­how man­ages to feel cold and iso­lat­ed yet uncom­fort­ably close to the ruckus at the bar. Voile cur­tains go some way towards divid­ing up one of the upstairs spaces, but when it’s busy the crowds tend to blur all the dis­tinc­tions between areas. The “Nar­nia wardrobe” almost works, but Fox­tail just seems like a slight­ly qui­eter ver­sion of the main bar, which is a bit of a let down.

Ser­vice: On a qui­et evening every­thing seems to go smooth­ly, but a busy Fri­day real­ly test­ed the staff and sys­tems. They deserve points for han­dling the Eft­pos fail­ures and bar queues with good grace, but table ser­vice strug­gled and things got just a lit­tle bit sham­bol­ic.

Atmos­phere: So what does all this add up to? It depends upon the night, your mood and your expec­ta­tions. On a fine mid­week evening this would be a won­der­ful spot for a qui­etish after-work drink or a full meal. It suf­fers from the inevitable Curse of Lambton, so it’s nev­er going to be a bohemi­an hang­out, but it’s a def­i­nite leap up from the Hog. As a fly, I love a bit of a buzz, but Fri­day nights seem to get rau­cous with a post-office crowd with­out being enter­tain­ing­ly debauched.

So, if you’re after a rather more styl­ish ver­sion of the This­tle or Occi, then this is def­i­nite­ly the place for you. If you want some­thing more like the promised “lounge” expe­ri­ence, it would pay to book a table upstairs or in Fox­tail. Things might set­tle down with time, but in the mean­time, I’ve got my com­pound eye on a lit­tle place around the back: the for­mer “Hugo’s” is about to reopen as “Cuck­oo”, thanks to the McKen­zie broth­ers … and they real­ly know how to run a cock­tail lounge.