LITTLE HONG KONG
ITRUST THE HOSTESS AT BAIJIU RESTAURANT. I TRUST HER EVEN AS it looks like she’s leading me straight into a wall, Platform 9¾–style, at the back of the raucous dining room. Before I can object, she pulls open an antique cabinet to reveal Little Hong Kong, a 16-seat secret bar tucked behind Baijiu. As the cabinet swings shut, the noisy restaurant crowd mostly muffled by soft jazz purring from a phonograph, a sense of peace descends. The diminutive hideaway was designed to evoke Victorian-era Hong Kong with rich colours, gold leafing and risqué wall art. It’s the kind of place where a $30 negroni seems like something I must try, rather than something outrageous; it’s so much fun to watch the skilled bartenders bob and weave around each other like athletes tossing a ball, and it makes what’s in the glass twice as delicious. (G’Vine Nouaison gin, a celebrated French spirit distilled from grapes and botanicals, is what makes the negroni so costly.) I intend to stay for one or two drinks, but linger much longer, reluctant to give up my coveted spot and wondering if there’s such a thing as barstool time-shares.