Pennethorne's Bar

Upon stepping into Pennethorne's, one is embraced by understated charm—a blend of perennial style and modern dash—that seems to quietly promise culinary delights. Admittedly, the entry act requires a primer; the casual dance of self-service might leave the uninitiated floundering amidst hesitation. But persist past this mild inconvenience, venture to the bar, and Pennethorne’s begins to sparkle in its own peculiar fashion. The self-serve order routine introduces a layer of interaction that's quite reminiscent of assembling IKEA furniture—complex at first glance, but oddly satisfying once mastered, albeit without an instruction manual written in Swedish.

Despite some inevitable hiccups—their seeming penchant for elusive menus, zephyr-like afternoon teas dislodged from the menu whim list—there's a trove of deliciously fleeting experiences within. Secure a comfortable table (perhaps with a gentle plea for a window spot) and let the fulsome warmth of their commendable staff usher in what can be a rather gratifying feast. Lingering notes of ambiance flirt with the senses as vibrant dishes whisper the flavors of carefully clustered creativity. True, there are horror tales etched in less fortunate companions’ dining annals where muddied service attempts to steer joy into chaos, yet they’re more the exception than rule. Overall, when harmony hits its stride, Pennethorne’s resonates with moments worth savoring, granted you navigate with a dollop of patience and an affinity for adventure. — Penelope Savory