Latest from Bar Reviews

Poor but sexy - you can't argue with Berlin's unofficial slogan. Although it doesn't possess the wealth of other German cities, it has sultry charms.

This feels like a joke in the making but there we were, a Kiwi, an Australian, an American and a Pom standing round a remote cafe on the Greek island of Kos.

Billy Adams visits a pub that commemorates a genocide.

Someone is going to have to do something about the plethora of kitset pubs in this country.

I copped a bit of flak for my description of New Lynn the other week, so just to show that I am an equal-opportunities loudmouth, can I point out that I loathe going to Remuera in a way that makes my opinion of New Lynn appear positively glowing.

I hate driving to New Lynn. There's something depressing about the endless roadworks and the strange feeling that, once you've arrived there, you've died and gone to strip-mall hell.

I honestly didn't know this place existed until about four months ago, which shows how far under the radar Brothers Beer has flown. So when a friend suggested meeting for a beer we settled on this place.

Tucked away in a former pizza joint just off Wellington's Willis St, this pub presented me with something of a problem when I first found it.

A few years ago, this place used to be called the Engine Room and it was the proud home of possibly the laziest bartender I have ever met.

Joanna Mathers finds the cosiest spots to eat and drink.

I may have mentioned before that I'm not a huge fan of so-called Irish pubs.

I didn't know this was here, to be honest. Usually, when I come out of Kingsland station, I tend to turn left out of habit, since that is where the bars and restaurants mostly are, but someone suggested we meet here and so we did.

A pleasurable experience at Rakino's.

I'd been into the Lumsden before and wasn't impressed, but what a difference a few months makes.

In the 1980s a visit to the Birdcage meant a fun night out. Now it promises an evening of delight.

Some things never change and it would appear that the Strand Tavern is among that number.

There I was, minding my own business at a rather lovely wine tasting at Vivace on High St, when my wandering eye roved out the window and caught sight of a tiny bar in a little lane opposite.

It's been a tough life for the poor old Birdcage.

The Whiskey is dead, long live the Whiskey.

It says it is situated "at the unholy crossroads of Ponsonby and Richmond Rd" and takes pains to distance itself from the Greek neo-Nazi party of the same name.

Malt feels a bit like an old friend, albeit one you haven't seen for a while.

There's something very "Downunder" about the service in Queenstown. Waiters, bartenders, receptionists and shopkeepers take that relaxed, "she'll be right", Kiwi attitude to a new high.

Tasting 50-year-old rum is a privilege and a joyous event, finds Don Kavanagh.