Ching-a-Lings
Editorial
Wow, Ching-a-Lings is pretty cool. And not cool in a Reidel glassware, Dom Perignon kind of way. In fact it's the antithesis to everything other uber-cool, inner-city bars pride themselves on. Located in the heart Oxford Street's gritty end, your first challenge is finding it. Chances are you've walked past the door a thousand times, but for those who need to get their bearings, it's almost next door to Havana. As you ascend the stairs you might find yourself wondering what the hell you've gotten yourself into. It's dark, a bit industrial and a little bit share-house chic. The walls are exposed brick and the bar is low slung and recycled. Yes, it's very underground and exceedingly groovy.
Don't come here if you want to be dazzled by a smart wine list or drowned in an exciting and innovative cocktail list. Wines are house drops only, and it changes according to what the owners managed to get a good deal on. It's dished up in tumblers, which is sensible really - those thin stems on the standard wine glass have always been a liability. Beers are their way or the highway too: long necks of Melbourne Bitter and Coopers only. Can you dig it?
There's a DJ spinning vibes like a summer's day in one corner and the outdoor terrace is packed until it closes just before midnight. The crowd is young and cool, but there's no attitude and the overall atmosphere is overwhelmingly congenial. Ching-a-Lings is the ultimate in low-maintenance drinking. Come here if you just want a drink and don't want to be bamboozled with excess choice. No need to dress up, just make sure you're comfortable and you'll fit right in.
Jessica Miller, December 2009
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