MONTREAL ISN’T EXACTLY HURTING FOR SEXY DRINKING SPOTS, but Nhâ.u still feels damn special. The basement bar, located under bustling Southeast Asian restaurant Hà, is dimly lit by dozens of oversize paper lanterns suspended from the ceiling. My friend and I snag a seat at the bar next to a couple sharing a comically large tiki drink packed with sake, jasmine and bergamot. I resist the urge to supersize and order a Pandan Sour; the vanilla-ish South Asian herb lifts the sour notes and the egg-white topper makes it light and fresh. The Indo China Punch is its sweeter foil, with hints of honey and cardamom over a tea-meets-gin base, and my friend and I enjoy them both from our dark and mysterious people-watching perch on the deep side of the bar. The place is loud without being obnoxious, full without feeling claustrophobic. Our cheeky, flirty bartender checks in just enough for us to dish about him in his absence, and delivers a tangy salmon tartare, which I scoop up with deep-fried crab chips while my veggie pal digs hard on the salty kick of a crunchy tofu dish. We could stay all night, but we move an inch and a clutch of festive locals rushes in to snag our spot.