There\u2019s a sort of electricity in the air. A sense of anticipation. Something is due to happen. That\u2019s the feeling I got when I first walked into Gregory\u2019s \u2013 a darkly lit jazz club hidden away down a thin road between the Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps in Rome, Italy.
Dominating the room is a tall man, somewhat extravagantly dressed considering the early evening heat is at the bar \u2013 he looks like Thelonious Monk and John Coffey from The Green Mile passing on the stairs. His voice is booming; his stories of the \u201ccats\u201d he\u2019s met across the world infectious. He\u2019s American, as is the owner of Gregory\u2019s on the other side of the bar which, I notice, is stocked with an enviable selection of whiskey from across the world. Borders don\u2019t work in a place like this.\u00a0<\/p>\n
We make a beeline for a quiet, dimly lit corner on the ground floor. The menu impressed me with its promises of richly flavoured cuisine but my mind and eyes were wandering, soaking up the black and white framed pictures of jazz singers on the wall. The food and obligatory bottle of red came and went, unexpectedly delighting both me and my fianc\u00e9. You\u2019d be unlucky to stumble on a bad meal or wine in Rome but when you go somewhere to watch some live music your expectations for the food is naturally lowered somewhat as it\u2019s seen as a secondary bonus but so far Gregory\u2019s looked set to do the double.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/hitsthefan.co.uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/09\/img_6188.jpg\")
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