The Counter: How To Have an Alcohol-Free January That’s Anything but Dry

The Counter is a weekly column from award-winning restaurant writer and broadcaster Jimi Famurewa. Sign up to get The Counter first, sent to your inbox every Tuesday.

Hello and happy “Just a lime and soda, please” season to all who celebrate.

Yes, like seemingly half of London, I am ignoring my contrarian instincts and doing Dry January. I’ve been having occasional periods off booze for well over a decade now – either for general wellbeing, as part of well-intentioned new year health kicks or, now and again, for reasons related to my life as a committed distance running bore. This means I’m familiar with the many phases of temporary temperance (the toggling between healthful smugness and a mildly troubling boredom; the self-sabotaging folly of a massive February 1 night out; the years when I eye-roll at the whole tedious enterprise and mutter something terrifically original about “January being depressing enough without alcohol”).

But it also means that I have strong memories of a time when searching for interesting alcohol-free options in pubs, bars and certain restaurants was a fringe pursuit, generally met with either bafflement or suspicion. I remember warm, acrid bottles of Kaliber and endless, gut-churning J20s. I remember the old mates who looked tearfully disappointed when I told them I was off it for the night. I remember the landlady of a Limehouse pub who went off in search of a dusty crate of Becks Blue they had once ordered by accident.

You don’t need me to tell you that things are much improved these days. Restaurant menus teem with creative, considered “nolo” options, ubiquitous brands like Botivo and Lucky Saint dominate an ever-growing market (the latter says that one in three pub visits in the UK is now alcohol-free), mindful moderation is in the ascendent and “zebra-striping” is a term freely deployed by people who aren’t zoologists.

And yet, if you have tried to abstain in this Martini- and pint-loving city of ours, then you will know that – from the punitive expense to the fact that lots of alcohol-free drinks are still either actively disgusting or pointlessly weedy and featureless – better isn’t exactly perfect. It doesn’t have to be this way. So, with the benefit of quite a few years at this abstemious rodeo, here are some of my favourite current spots to have an alcohol-free January (or beyond) that’s anything but dry.

A first trip to Dublin a few years back acquainted me with the fact that Guinness 0.0 – a genuine game-changer – is on draught almost everywhere in the city. It’s not quite as ubiquitous in London, but this new wave Irish bar – with outposts in Borough and Vauxhall – pours handsomely domed, quenching creamers that are almost indistinguishable from their alcoholic counterparts. Extra points for the uncomplicated canteen-style Thai dishes from kitchen residency Johnny Rice and the raucous live music that gives the night a much-needed added element for teetotallers, temporary or otherwise.

Honey Spencer and Charlie Sims’s London Fields spot draws much of its indulgent, culturally promiscuous approach from the natural wine scenes in Sydney and Copenhagen, plus the after-hours hedonism of Montreal. All the same, Sune is that rare spot that features no and low options that are sharply considered, original and gimmick-free. Sip a glass of hoppy, complex Passing Clouds sparkling white, swoop puffy, charred flatbread through smoked cod’s roe, and watch the chaotic whirl of Broadway Market from a safe distance.

Though the phrase “world’s first alcohol-free heavy metal bar” sounds like the parodic invention of a hipster-baiting satire account, it is very much a real thing, operating out of a little black-daubed record shop in Camden. And look, while Anthrax reissues and pointedly straight-edge spaces are not to my natural taste, I can’t help but raise some admiring devil horns to the singular boldness of the vision. Guinness 0.0 on tap; eight types of alcohol-free whiskey; a basement space called The Lucifer Lounge. Rarely has something so laden with skulls and Satanic imagery been such an obvious act of love and supportive community-building.

Yes, I know. I am going to wager that the last thing you need in your life is another evangelising sauna person, chuntering on endlessly about the magical benefits of contrast therapy and making you feel like the smugness radiating from these places could power the entire country for a week. Well, sadly, I am here to tell you that the most annoying thing about the wild sauna movement – particularly as displayed at Hackney Community Sauna Baths or this archway space in Peckham, with its low-slung lounging beds, chess boards, downtempo DJs and enjoyably mixed, genial crowd – is that it is exactly as convivial, addictive and transformatively mood-boosting as everyone says it is. Also worth noting: alongside teas, all manner of functional softs and legitimately great drip coffee, they also have low ABV drinks like Small Beer for those not embracing total booze-avoidance.

I don’t think many right-thinking Londoners will need any additional encouragement to try to bag a table at one of the ever-mobbed outposts of Kian Samyani and JKS’s ever-expanding empire of contemporary Iranian grills (coming soon to both Mayfair and LA). But the signature, expansive menu of Persian sharbats – zesty, grown-up cordials with a puckering saline edge – really exemplify the restaurants where non-alcoholic accompaniments both enhance the experience and feel naturally baked into the particular dining culture. (See also: syrupy bottles of Malta at Enish or the complimentary pot of oolong tea at Wong Kei.)

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