Tapps, Whiteladies Road: 'Tapps is most welcome on the Whiteladies restaurant drag'

Wine on tap with a glimmer of yumminess

Tapps is one of the most exciting new openings on Whiteladies Road, bringing wine on tap and a fresh concept to a neighbourhood full of old favourites. As ever at The Sauce, our reviews are independent and honest. This piece, written by Phil Sweeney, reflects early visits — and we’re always excited to see how new venues evolve and settle into their stride.

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With an editor’s sixth sense, Sauce supremo Meg gave extra clear instructions on this one: be honest but make sure you bring out the good points. Right, got it, will do my darnedest.

Tapps is most welcome on the Whiteladies restaurant drag as a new wine bar — a good and unusual thing — in a spot which could easily have become another Korean restaurant or a pizzeria, or indeed a Korean pizzeria. (Tapps does offer kimchi, flecks of it, on its chips by the way). And if the public is the arbiter, Tapps could be on to a winner. My first visit was a fairly lonely experience, but a week later the place was buzzing.

The name is a touch quaint – evokes an ironmongers run by an elderly man in a brown coat — but at least it isn’t Cow and Sow or Snobby’s, and it has a rationale, as mentioned momentarily.

The décor is smart, clean, very John Lewis homes department with its white walls, neat potted plants and pale grey upholstery. There are two outside areas, the front fitted with fixed metal scaffolding pole tables, the rear clad in raw pine joinery.

Perhaps DJ booths were due a makeover

Inside there’s a series of spaces, equipped with sections of tall bar table and stools, an open plan service area and some classic restaurant tables and banquettes. Plus a music niche, rather like a DJ booth interpreted by John Lewis, with shelves of vinyl for weekends. Tapps is inspired by Japanese listening bars, which are all the rage now. On my visits the niche was deserted and the music canned, and as innocuous as the décor, possibly a blessing in disguise.

As for the drink, wine is clearly the heart of the matter. Tapps has a concept , based on sustainability, which involves a row of wall mounted taps — get it? — offering eleven draught, or keg, wines by the glass (prices from £6.50 to £9.50), the half litre or litre carafe, or the bottle, if you buy one of their bottles, which you can then return to be re-filled (by handing over more money obviously, it’s not that sustainable).

tappswinebarandkitchen

A post shared by @tappswinebarandkitchen

There is also a traditional list of bottles, but the key innovation centres round the reduced environmental impact due to transport in bulk. Fair enough, very worthy, and every glass I had was good, to my admittedly undiscerning palate.

Working out what they are is a challenge, though, due to the haphazard information on the list. Each entry has a name of sorts, sometimes misspelled, a year of vintage, some strangely old for table wines, a country of origin, and a smattering of random wine patter — elegant, wild flowers, juicy, vibrant etc — but the crucial details of producer and geographical classification are missing.

And the names don’t help. “White Wine, Italy”, for example, in a wine bar? Then there’s a beverage called GaviN — spelled like that — attributed to France or Italy depending on whether you look at Tapps’ website or printed menu. I eventually extracted the information that this was made just outside the Northern Italian controlled denomination area of Gavi, so couldn’t officially call itself Gavi. However, the winemaker going by the old Piedmontese name of Gavin, they hit upon this cunning ruse. Hmm.

To glean this level of detail, you have to call in The Manager, who will come and sit at your table, whether you like it or not, and regale you with wine anecdotes until the desire for information fades under the increasing urgency of getting your hands on a drink, which was how I forgot to find out the actual provenance of GaviN, either the wine or the bloke. And next time I came back The Manager wasn’t there and the waitresses had to wing it unaided, so the GaviN mystery remains intact.

No criticism of the team implied. They were pleasant, personable, efficient and keen to engage. “Sounds yummy!” commented one on my order, an update on the Uber-esque “good choice!” we know and love (not). Was it “yummy”? Not quite — though a few dishes flirted with it. The chips, for instance, came close, ordered without kimchi sprinkles (£8) and the crab fritters (£9) showed promise.

Fish and chips

A couple of crispy fried oysters (£7) came within striking distance of the lower end of the yumminess spectrum. “Toulouse sausage, dijon, herbs, jus” (£8) was odd but edible, sliced atypically in chunks and served in a brown gravy.

Close but no cigar

King prawn tartlet (£7) was tragically lacking in the yummy department; fridge-cold parcels, stodgy and tasteless in filo carapace rather than the warm, rich, creamy, melting shortcrust treat I’d naively envisioned. A wing of skate (£13) was OK, the fish not devoid of yumminess but covered in a slightly glutinous caper sauce. The misspelled pomme Ana chips (£8) were hard, and why on earth meddle with aioli by adding jalapeño peppers?

As a restaurateur friend pointed out, it’s early days yet, new places may need a little time to hone their operation. And a decent new wine bar is absolutely to be applauded. Which I do — and I hope to return. But for now, I’m sorry, I can’t tell a lie. Or at least, I could, under the right circumstances. If Gavin from Gavi turned out to have a healthy marketing slush fund for example. But we influencers don’t come cheap.

All words and photos by Philip Sweeney

Tapps, 87 Whiteladies Road, BS8 2NT

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