Review of Saint And Rogue

Review by Tintin Rahman

Remember the scene in Inglourious Basterds when Lieutenant Archie Hicox meets German actress-cum-spy Bridget Von Hammersmark in a tavern? Under the pretence of a drink and a friendly game of cards, they exchange information, only for the game to turn into a deadly shoot-up.

Saint and Rogue reminds me of that tavern. The crowd is nowhere near as rowdy, and it is hard to imagine any form of physical violence occurring in this warm, home-like restaurant and bar. But it seems like the perfect spot for a couple of spies to meet or for a detective meeting a witness who wants to maintain anonymity.

Located in the ‘ghost town’ end of the CBD near Southern Cross station, Saint and Rogue can be easily missed, if not for the golden light emanating from the large windows on the first floor. The first thing you see as you enter is a flight of carpeted stairs leading to the kitchen, the restaurant, and the gilded, swirl-patterned wallpaper. The Public House (the bar) is marked by rich brown walls and columns, portraits of horses with riders (“A typical English pub,” my English friend comments dryly), a variety of plush brown leather armchairs and wooden stools and one or two wooden tables. The large blackboard detailing snacks and appetizers, hangs high up on one side of the bar, close to the high ceiling. This contrasts with the medium-sized LCD screen with still news briefs on the wall on the other side of the bar, which no one pays attention to.

The crowd consists mostly of businessmen and working professionals in their 30s and 40s having intimate conversations and drinks after work. A couple of ladies are having a laugh at one on the small roundtables, and one man scans a newspaper lazily while waiting for his pint. When it arrives, he hangs the newspaper over the bronze railing above the counter where he sits. A first-timer, he describes Saint and Rogue as ‘old-fashioned, but nice’. As an Asian girl in her twenties, I must have looked out of place. Not that anyone minded.

It was a Tuesday night, and there were only about twelve people in the bar. “It doesn’t get much busier on the weekend,” says the female bartender (the only visible one). Like the manager, Scott, she is easy to talk to. I ask Scott why it is called Saint and Rogue.

“I don’t know. The owners were just having a shit one day and decided to call it Saint and Rogue,” is the cheeky, matter-of-fact reply. To be fair, he seemed quite busy, serving meals upstairs, which is a tad noisier.

My friend and I have dinner, which is good. While the food is priced mid-range ($25–$35 per main), the drinks are reasonably priced. At $16, cocktails are marginally cheaper than some other bars. Besides the 16 species of cocktails, there are 12 beers on tap and wines, both white and red.

This isn’t his first time. When I ask him how the beer is here, he says, “Oh well, a beer is a beer.” It is the atmosphere of a bar that makes a difference. Saint and Rogue is chilled-out, unobtrusive. Even the music and waiters are unobtrusive. This may be a bad thing as it prevents more Melburnians from visiting a gem of a bar. But it may be a good thing as it protects its current clientele from the madding crowd. It can remain a secret hideout.

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