Slightly giddy but nowhere near as borrachos as Greg would have liked, we leave Angelita and stumble a few doors down to The Cock, engaging in silly banter and foolish antics on the way.
Dating back to 1921, this historic backstreet cocktail bar is the oldest and preferred drinking hole in Madrid. It positions itself halfway between an English Gentleman’s lounge and a New York club and is frequented by the older discerning crowd and young hipsters alike (as well as renowned artists, Hollywood stars and royalty!).
The lighting is dim and atmosphere intimate. Clusters of low wooden tables, red leather armchairs and olive leather couches surround two ornate timber pillars that frame a slender vase of billowing flowers sitting atop an adorned wooden fireplace mantel. Square lanterns hang from a stucco ceiling interspersed with wooden beams that, along with the diamond-grilled casement windows, are redolent of Tudor architecture.
As we squeeze by the high-end clientele to a small opening at the far end of the bar, I can’t help but admire its grandeur. Illuminated glass shelves fixed to a mirror wall bear hundreds of multi-coloured liquor bottles that shine like sunlit stained-glass windows.
I quickly claim the last olive leather bar stool, lean my forearms against the gold railing and watch in awe as José María Contreras, Cock Bar’s mixologist, masters the unique art of “flairing.” Greeting me with a cheeky smile, he flings and flips liquor bottles and cocktail shakers in the air like a circus juggler whilst meditatively mixing me cocktail after cocktail.
José María Contreras - Cock Bar’s mixologist
Watching in awe as José masters the unique art of “flairing”
Finally, he slides me a much-needed bottle of Solán de Cabras mineral water. Blown from indigo-tinted glass & embossed with its distinctive emblem, I ponder taking the exquisitely designed bottle back home with me. Dizzy and dazzled, I leave José with three words – Tom Cruise. Cocktail – and slip out the door, glass water bottle in hand.
Outside Miguel awaits us. I slide into the back seat of his black Mercedes and we speed off into the night deftly darting in and out of traffic as we navigate our way back to the hotel.
Although my evening may be coming to an end, that of the Madrilenian merrymakers is just getting started! I feel the urge to join them in a night of revelling, but as I rest my head on the window and look out at the blurred city lights, a bout of sleepiness suddenly hits me. Bed it is.
