The new punch pioneers: Lost in Grub Street

If name recognition was everything, it would be an immediate slam-dunk. The award winning founders of Becketts Kopf have launched a new Berlin bar, but they aren’t resting on their laurels. Andrew Wilkin explores Lost in Grub Street for MIXOLOGY, a bar striking its own ambitious path.

Berliners — think of the Gendarmenmarkt. It’s all reconstructed grandeur, horse-drawn carriages and wistful Glühwein memories. Now, what’s geographically-speaking next? First answer: “Friedrichstraße!”. Second answer: “U-Bahnhof Stadtmitte!” I ask a follow up question. “But what about if you turn around, and go in the opposite direction?”.
Inciting befuddled faces galore, the third answer never came. Lo and behold, the area surrounding Hausvogteiplatz is somewhat forgotten by visitors and locals alike. And mixology-aficionados to boot. Mitte’s now flourishing cocktail scene does not spread its tentacles here.

The prodigious Auswärtiges Amt (Foreign Ministry) a looming presence, this area is hindered by a serious vibe — one suited and booted in stucco and glass, whilst undeniably lacking in after dark options. Exactly what you’d expect of Merkel and co when there’s issues of worldwide importance to sort out! International stability vs Late-night boozing 1:0! Except, this is a score Oliver Ebert and his wife Cristina, the renowned owners of Prenzlauer Berg mainstay Becketts Kopf, are aiming to reverse.
Riding into the government quarter, two of Berlin’s modern bar maestros are shaking an area up that’s, well, not used to shaking. Welcome to Lost in Grub Street.

A homage to London, in Berlin’s government quarter

Here’s the first disclaimer — this is not on Grub Street. Lost in Grub Street is situated on Berlin’s Jägerstraße. The Grub Street Oliver and Cristina refer to is one of London yore. Post-1830 named Milton Street, this centrally located street was once a place of high bohème reputation, inhabited by journalists and writers seeking a rowdy refuge from the ills of the Big Smoke. And what they found there were punch bars. Big bowls of punch and an even bigger camaraderie.

Yes — in a time where cocktail meant zilch, punch was the drink de jour. Until the Industrial Revolution swept it all away that is, heralding the age of individualization and concurrently, the cocktail. Nowadays, the notion of punch is more associated with your Ballermann class of holiday — all gigantic bowls, low prices and a surfeit of straws and sugar.

Not to forget that dastardly Balearic hangover! What Oliver and Cristina want to do is bring it back, in its revered Grub Street incarnation — just like they did with their resurrection of classic bar culture in Becketts Kopf. And what do they mean by “lost”? They just want you to have a good time at their iteration of Grub Street – as they would say “wir wünschen euch eine gute Zeit bei uns”!

Ringing a doorbell of pure necessity

Definitions aside, something conventional to modern revivalist bar culture occurs on entrance to Grub Street. You have to ring the doorbell. Snore. Is the bar industry not past saturation point with the ubiquitous Speakeasy trend? Yet this is by no means a stylistic addition aiming to create that zeitgeisty-since-forever Prohibition vibe.

Those imposing governmental buildings aren’t just their physical neighbours — there’s bona-fide bureaucracy to face up to as well. Notably, the fact that bars and restaurants in Berlin aren’t allowed to have doors that open onto the street, thus the need for a second door within.

Cold cleanliness, warm joviality

Past the shrouded entrance and aforementioned second door, it’s a space that forgoes clutter, and ostentatious decoration. Clean lines are the mandate here; the room a long stretch of darkened indigo, and the ceiling a subtle copper.
In the style of the old punch bars, the focus is on you and your friends. Cold and dark in colour, the comfort factor, something key for conviviality, has been promoted in two ways. Low level lights are in the form of glasses, and there’s comfy, closely-packed sofas too—both which help to provide the warm glow they are aiming for in the L-shaped establishment.

“We have to take this atmosphere of what’s in this area, and find a way to put it inside”, Oliver says. Aesthetically, formal and straight-lined, they’ve done it. Thankfully, with regards to vibe, they’ve exceeded it. A throng of revellers partaking in good times — it’s a far cry from the oft empty streets outside!

Bar-status ambiguity

Now for the nitty-gritty. The bar and the punch. One quick peek at the website later, a title that says “Lost In Grub Street | Bar?” glares out at you. It’s an apt use of punctuation — a movable entity, there’s no bar centerpiece here. The motive is clear. Once again, as with the seating, keeping the focus on guest sociality is paramount.

Glistening bowls of golden stainless steel stand perched on tables, whilst the casually dressed, jovial yet frantic team rush around delivering more. What’s in these punches? Gin, vodka, tequila? None of them. The drink list is mainly sourced from the GSA countries of Germany, Switzerland and Austria – handcrafted distillates from Stählemühle and Hiebl Destillerie utilising their own fruit to create liquids of 40% volume and almost zero alcohol burn.

Although the ice balls could be somewhat smaller, they help keep Lost from extremes. After all, thanks to them, punch declines in strength as it is drunk. Indeed, despite proclamations of bringing back an old type of hedonism, Lost in Grub Street is certifiably not a bar in-tune with garish displays of inebriety.

A menu of wider scope

What other joys lie within the pencil-drawing strewn menu? There’s short cocktails, too, with a new trick employed — there’s no titles à la Whiskey Sour here, just flavours. Try a banana-coffee-chocolate mix or Cristina’s sweet favourite, the nutmeg-pumpkin-jalapeños mix.

Fans of the good stuff can guzzle a Heidenpeters pale ale whilst there’s also champagne, non-alcoholic drinks and all those aforementioned local distillates to try, “fresher and better than biting into a fresh apple”, Oliver claims. The food, arranged on wooden boards, is also partial to sharing. Created and delivered by partners Essential, there’s small plates galore, including a selection of the German bread Stullen, served with the likes of Wagyu Beef et al, all fit to share with your punch comrades. Good for absorbing those (now empty) bowls!

Ambitions, achieved?

Lost in Grub Street is ambitious, and not just because it has an initially unbecoming name. Because it aims to revive an old culture is one reason. Stimulating late-night drinking in a forgotten area another. And promoting local distillers yet another! Cliché time. Is this another “too many cooks spoil the broth” moment? Absolutely not, and such ‘lets-strike-out-here’ initiative has to be applauded.

As befits two long in the game, there’s a real synergy between Cristina and Oliver’s aims and execution here , although it’s the prices (15-20€ per person for punch, with one hitting the 29€ mark) won’t be quite so convivial to some. Maybe asking Merkel and co to talk Ukraine, Greece and PEGIDA over a Philadelphia Fish-House Punch is a stretch. But for the rest of us? It’s time to get LOST.