Waxflower

There's something that happens when you walk into Waxflower: your step slows, your shoulders drop, and before you’ve even looked at a menu, you’re already vibing. It’s more than a wine bar. It’s a listening room, a groove den, a bar that runs on rhythm as much as it does on Riesling. There’s always someone at the decks, flipping vinyl, warming the space with funk, soul, jazz, or some left-field groove that makes what's in your glass taste even better. The vinyl collection is serious, and the sound system isn’t there for show. The atmosphere is palpable. Not overpowering, but present. Music is part of the wine experience here, not the wallpaper behind it.

The wine list moves fluidly between classic and wild, from grower Champagne and razor-sharp Chablis to skin-contact Alpine whites and juicy northern Italian reds. You might start with something clean and mineral and end up somewhere deep and oxidative. That’s the charm. It flows, it moves, it invites curiosity.

Food-wise, it’s more than just snacks, though those decadent wine bar smalls are spot on. You can pop in for anchovies and almonds, or stay for a proper plate of duck or pasta. There’s versatility in the offering without ever losing the thread; you will find some Peruvian-leaning flavours done with finesse and restraint. There’s brightness, heat, and texture in the right places; perfect for snacking while the beat rolls on, or settling in for a full meal if the night asks for it.

The room hums with low light, warm wood, and a sense that everyone there gets it, its intention of representing taste in wine, in food, in sound. Whether you come for a quiet midweek sip or a Saturday night full of beats and Burgundy, Waxflower delivers.

If you like your wine with a bit of funk (yeah baby, in the glass and in the speakers), this is where you want to be.