Liquid hideaways

Last year, in a nod towards austerity, I gave up my membership to Milk and Honey, a cocktail club in Soho. I rationalised that as a non-member, I could still book a dimly lit, silver-toned booth downstairs to enjoy their delicious Penicillin — a reviving concoction of peaty whisky, honey, ginger and lemon — at least until 11 p.m. However, as I sipped my farewell M&H dry martini, made with a twist of lemon and some fragrant Junipero gin, it struck me that there is something comforting in having a regular drinking den. Clearly, research was needed.

My requirements were simple: superlative cocktails, convivial atmosphere and within walking distance of home. Life takes on a different perspective if you can stroll through London streets after a negroni or two. As I quizzed friends on their favourite hidden drinking dens, it emerged that bars are like old slippers; they’re loved because they fit comfortably with the drinker’s personality. Was I the sort of person who enjoyed tumbling down the stairs of the St Moritz in Soho, or more of a sophisticated Dukes bar drinker? Did I like keeping classic, or prefer a more modern approach? There was only one way to find out.

I started my research with Purl, a basement bar in Marylebone that specialises in molecular mixology, the latest fashion in cocktails. According to director Tristan Stephenson, this means using liquid nitrogen, foams, fogs, dry ice and sperification (tiny jellied balls of flavoured liquid) to create drinks that still resonate with the past. Think Ferran Adrià meets Dale DeGroff. If it were not for the burly doorman, you could easily pass by Purl’s railings without knowing that the 18th-century vaults beneath your feet were full of Londoners quaffing Mr Hyde’s Fixer Upper (made from smoke-injected Ron Zucapa rum). The extreme chilling of liquid nitrogen changes both the taste and the texture of alcohol, making even the driest martini strangely sweet and syrupy.