Zahra Bar

Clapham Old Town has an exciting new addition. Bringing a Moorish twist to SW4 is Zahra Bar, which has just opened its ornate doors in the basement of newcomer restaurant Del' Aziz on The Pavement – a road seemingly named by Adele. Set across two floors, the ground-level bar is flatteringly lit with stained-glass lanterns, which prettify the giant bronze tables that could double as satellite dishes.

Low slung copper light fixtures hang nonchalantly, illuminating the gold thread on the silk cushioned sofas. Gazing up, I'm greeted by a playful dance floor of a ceiling, scattered with luminous pink and orange oblongs. The 30+ cocktail list is divided into the usual suspects: Martinis, Long Drinks, Shorts and Fizz. I opt for the signature Zahra cocktail (£7.50), a mixture of Pampeo rum, pineapple, spices, lime, egg white, and a cheeky dribble of absinthe. Expecting something sickeningly sweet, it delivers an ice-cold, deliciously thirst-quenching drop, with an impish liquorice finish.

Moving to the main bar downstairs, the lighting is as low as the ceiling and the music as loud as the Middle Eastern mosaic wallpaper. Brick red stools line the bar, expectantly waiting bottoms. The stained-glass lanterns make a welcome reappearance, and a belly dancer weaves her way, serpent-like, through the crowd. The place has the feel of a clandestine vice den in Beirut, where the cool kids come to feed their bad habits. Thirsty for a second libation, I opt for an Aviation (£8), made with calvados, cassis, lime and absinthe. Having already been charmed by the green fairy, she works her magic a second time, proving a delightful addition to the satisfyingly sharp, raspberry pink drink.

In keeping with the Moorish theme, my harem and I sample a selection of the mezze on offer, from salty slabs of halloumi and cooling tzatziki to creamy houmous bejeweled with ruby red pomegranate seeds. For the optimum opium den experience, you can choose from an array of forbidden fruits, including cherry, strawberry and watermelon, on the Shisha menu. Though due to the smoking ban, the hookah pipes won't be able to be puffed on until spring. Perusing the wine list, I'm impressed to see both Lebanon and Morroco in the line-up, but the cocktails are of such a high calibre, this lady's not for turning. It may be freezing outside, but Clapham's new jewel is burning bright.

New in town: Basil's Beach Bar, Galoupet, VOC

Perched on stilts over ice blue Caribbean shallows and overseen by the infectiously charming Basil Charles, Basil’s Beach bar in Mustique – island of choice for royals and reprobates, alongside Harry’s Bar in Venice, is arguably one of the most famous bars in the world. On inviting Basil’s legendary founder to London, Goring Hotel head honcho Jeremy Goring got his hammer out and built Basil a beach bar in the hotel’s garden to honour the visit.

The dinky shack comes complete with golden sand, fishing boats, a palm-thatched roof, polished driftwood counter and an abundance of cocktails, including the signature Mustique Mule, the Hurricane David and Basil’s Rum Punch. Built by Blue Forest, who specialise in luxurious tree houses, the Basil’s-inspired interior has quirky touches of its own courtesy of The Goring’s interior designer, Russell Sage.

Having weathered many an unseasonal storm, Basil’s Bar has sadly popped down for what remains of the summer. But fear not – head barman Brian is still serving up many a Mustique Mule in the main bar, which can be enjoyed in a plethora of pods dotted around the garden.

After a long wait, Galoupet has finally opened its pristine white doors in Knightsbridge’s über cool Beauchamp Place. Set over two storeys of a handsome Georgian terrace, wishbone chairs by Danish designer Hans J Wegner grace the swan white space, where angled mirrors perch poised for customer preening. The sleek new venture from the owners of Château du Galoupet in Côtes de Provence is the first venue in London to trial The Flute – an Enomatic machine designed specifically for Champagne. The restaurant-cum-wine shop offers an impressive 36 wines by the glass, which change frequently according to the menu.

“We chose to take on The Flute because it fits with what we’re all about – seasonal produce, and fresh, clean, ingredients,” Shaan Mahrotri, Galoupet’s operations director tells me over a glass of pink fizz, his brown eyes glinting through neon orange specs. “Most places offer average Champagne by the glass – the Flûte gives us more scope. People are adventurous now, and they want to try new things, especially in London. Ten days preservation gives us the chance to experiment.”

Mahroti plans to offer more than just Champagne on the Flûte. “We’ll have a well-known vintage Champagne, our own Château du Galoupet sparkler, a quaffable non-vintage like Ayala, and perhaps a Prosecco. We’ll pull things in and out and see what works,” he says. “Others will follow suit. I’ve heard that most people who have taken on Enomatics will be taking the Flûte too – we just got there first.”

On my visit, the much-hyped Flute had yet to be delivered from Italy, so I didn’t get to sample its liquid pleasure by the measure, but Mahroti plans to send out tweets to all his followers when he puts a special bottle on, so it sells itself. “It’s a good way to create a buzz,” he says, excitedly. Food meanwhile, draws on Mediterranean and Asian influences, with Chris Golding of Zuma, Nobu Berkeley and The Square fame behind the chopping board.

A quirky addition to London’s already throbbing bar scene is VOC in King’s Cross, a stone’s throw away from adorable Sherry bar Pepito in Varnishers Yard. Billed as London’s first 17th century cocktail bar, VOC is the brainchild of Fluid Movement – the mixologists behind Marylebone’s Purl and the Whistling Shop in Shoreditch. Taking its name from the Dutch East India Company (Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie) – the world’s first multinational corporation capitalising on Asian trade goods in the 17th century, VOC specialises in house-blended spiced rum and bespoke, barrel-aged cocktails matured in wax-sealed apothecary bottles, each individually labelled with the date of creation and priced accordingly.

Decked out like Phileas Fogg's drawing room, complete with swashbuckling Moorish busts, telescopes and humidors, shelves are stacked with Dutch genevers, arracks, bourbons and rums from the Americas. The exposed brickwork walls are adorned with apothecary bottles and barrels suspended precariously from the ceiling. At night, flickering light from giant church candles casts atmospheric shadows. In the seventeenth century, punches were one of the earliest examples of a mixed drink, and were traditionally made with five ingredients including a spirit – either Dutch gin or arrack made with coconut palm.

VOC’s punches run a gamut of styles. The Dog's Nose unites Tanqueray Rangpur with fresh horseradish, Meantime porter, fresh citrus, spices and honey. For a theatrical serve, try one of the flips, which are warmed with an old poker heated by a flame on the bar. Outside, a covered courtyard offers an al fresco space to indulge in the bar’s cigar selection, which has been dutifully matched to the cocktail list. Dust off your hiking boots, locate your walking stick and make the pilgrimage to VOC – the Zoltar-like bust in the entrance merits the exploration alone.

The Nightjar

One night before Christmas, I was lead through an understated wooden door on City Road in Old Street and down a steep staircase into London's best kept secret bar - the Nightjar.

Named after a long-winged nocturnal bird identified by its distinctive warble, whose eyes twinkle like torches at night, the Nightjar is a charming '30s-style speakeasy serving up some of the best-mixed and most beautifully presented rare and revived cocktails in the capital.

Entering the dimly-lit subterranean space, the clock is wound back to an era of gin and jazz. The clandestine drinking den exudes early 20th century glamour, prettified with Art Deco mirrors, a pressed tin ceiling and a glinting copper gin still. Lining the far end are arched booths fashioned from coal cellars, packed with nattily dressed lounge lovers.

Soon after I arrive a hush falls upon the bar, and a man with a mop of mad curls takes a seat at a grand piano and begins tinkering. A whippet-thin lady in a sequined headdress takes to the stage and begins belting out melancholic Berlin jazz. Husky, haunting, hypnotic; she has crowd transfixed. Live music is the Nightjar's lifeblood. The informal salon models itself on an early European cabaret venue, and the live line up on Thursday and Saturday nights ranges from Rhythm and Blues and New Orleans jazz, to boogaloo, ragtime and swing, while vintage vinyl is on rotation late Friday and Saturday nights – the Last Days of Decadence meets the House of Elliot.

Belle Epoque and Prohibition era cocktails using the latest liqueurs, bitters and botanicals abound on the 36-strong menu, displayed in both a gold-bound book and a deck of cards, interspersed with Nightjar heroes: Buster Keaton, Duke Ellington, Josephine Baker and Kiki de Montparnasse. Head mixologist Marian Beke, of The Langham fame, is at the top of his game. Each of the well considered cocktails on the list – including Hemingway's recipe for Islands in the Stream (Santa Teresa Claro rum, lime, green coconut water, angostura bitters and sugar since you ask), are mini masterpieces painstakingly laboured over and exquisitely presented in crystal glassware.

An ideal debauchery den for discerning drinkers, cocktails are taken incredibly seriously at the Nightjar, and thus, take a while to appear at your table. But I assure you they're worth the wait. On my visit I begin with a Ladybird, recommended by Beke. A mix of Santa Terersa Gran Reserva rum, lime, prune, Belgian truffle liqueur, Caribbean spices and orange bitters, the outside of the glass is dotted with chocolate (representing the ladybird's spots), which I dutifully lick off.

Shuffling the deck of cards and pulling one out at random, I move on to a BBC, a dark, decadent and deadly mix of Busnel Calvados VSOP, Becherovka cordial and Absinthe smoke served swimming in a huge ice ball. I've imbibed many a cocktail in my time, and the BBC is utterly unique. Smoky, sexy and seriously hard to drink any more than a sip of at a time, it's like drinking a bonfire sweetened by the blood of nymphs. While I recline languorously in my chair, feeling the effects of the green fairy, my drinking companion enjoys a playfully-titled Wibble, made with Plymouth gin, pink grapefruit, lemon and sugar.

The Nightjar is my secret find of late 2010. The Shoreditch speakeasy oozes laid back charm – its beauty lies in not trying too hard. A word of warning: don't come to the Nightjar if you're hungry. Aside from the customary almonds and olives, the simple bar snack menu includes courgette fritters, saucissons with cornichons, and cow's curd with Sherry vinegar and beetroot relish, but nothing substantial enough to fill up anyone with an appetite bigger than a sparrow.

The Nightjar, 129-131 City Road, London EC1V 1JB, +44 (0)20 7253 4101. Cocktails from £8.50.

Appleton Estate Bartender's Challenge at Floridita

It always feels decadent going out on a Monday night. There's something mischievous about it, as if it's scandalously early in the week to be getting the party started, but I couldn't resist an invite to sample Jamaican rum-infused cocktails at Floridita, shaken by the best barmen in the business.

I went with Sebastian Harguindey, who runs the über trendy Argentinian steak house Constancia in Tower Bridge. As Monday is his only evening off work, it proved the perfect excuse for a celebration. There's something special about Floridita – it transports you out of London and into the hotheaded hedonism of Cuba. Pink Martini played on my last visit.

The Cuban pleasure den had a distinct Caribbean twist, from the jerk chicken canapés and plantain puddings to the Jamaican Mule cocktails expertly shaken by the three finalist bartenders, in their respective rival bars dotted about the room.

Each bartender had to compete for our vote, by speedily shaking, crushing, stirring, swirling and eventually pouring perfect cocktail after perfect cocktail to the parched throng in front of them. We started at the Viajante bar – London's most talked about restaurant. There's a big buzz about Viajante at the moment; everyone seems to be going, talking about going, or knows someone that's gone. Head chef Nuno Mendes trained at El Bulli, so all sorts of exciting and experimental dishes are scuttling out of his kitchen.

Moving on to Milk and Honey things got a little wilder. Every few seconds bartender Josh Ivanovic would smash a glass in his ambitious, ebullient, almost theatrical performance. The more excited he got, the further away from the bar people edged, but by the end the crowd was five deep with awe-struck converts marveling in his magic. His Mai Tais were to die for. Ivanovic was deservedly crowned the winner, and will represent the UK in the final of the competition in Jamaica.

Molecular cocktails: it's all in the mix

Ferran Adrià started the hydrocollised  ball rolling, then Heston got in on the act and now mixologists are the latest to dust off their test tubes and try their hands at molecular gastronomy. 

For the month of October Hush bar in Bond Street are offering a six-strong molecular cocktail menu devised by a duo of not-so-mad scientists Pedro Solorzano and Boris Ivan - the Blumenthals of the cocktail world.

During our mixology masterclass they seem keen to point out that the secret behind creating the perfect molecular cocktail is getting the quantities spot on. Too much alocohol and the cocktails won't freeze, too little and you've got a mocktail. 'You have to take all the elements out of the cocktail, separate them and reintroduce them in a different way', says Solorzano. 'The key is to keep the elements separate by mixing them at the correct speed', adds Ivan. 

First up I learn how to make a Piña-Cavia-da (a Piña Colada festooned with tiny rum-filled caviar-like balls). A syringe is thrust into my hand and I'm handed a white tub full of calcium chloride flakes. Flashbacks to grammar school chemistry lessons and the nightmare that is the periodic table ensue. I mix 1 1/2 spoons of the flakes into a glass of water and give it a good stir while filling my syringe with a sweet gloopy mixture of rum, apple juice and sodium. 

I then syringe drops of the rum mixture into the 'calcium bath', which makes the rum emulsify into tiny hydrocollised balls. A full syringe only gives you a teaspoon of balls - molecular cocktails are an intricate art and demand extreme patience on the part of the maker.

Pedro whips out a tub of pineapple and coconut sorbet from the fridge and spoons it into a martini glass, sprinkling it with the hydrocollised rum. It's not something you can really drink, more an alternative pudding. I plunge my spoon in, making sure I get a good dose of the rum caviar. It's hideously sweet, but the balls do taste of the Element 8 rum they were made with.

I also try my hand at the Caipiroli (a Caiprini shaped like ravioli), made from a mixture of rum, lime juice, syrup, green food colouring and sodium alginate. Dipped in the calcium bath, the mint green mixture is frozen for 10 minutes in a square mould. It's much stonger than the Piña-Cavia-da, and considerably more appealing to the tastebuds, especially when paired with the suggested green apple slices. 

Another molecular delight on the list is the B58 - a take on the B52 with the usual Baileys and Kahula and a shot of rum foam that explodes in the mouth. The glammest cocktail has to be the Element Fizz, a mix of Prosecco, rum and Grand Marnier caviar that floats ebulliently round the glass chasing the bubbles.

'We're off to Spain tomorrow to showcase the cocktails in Barcelona', Boris informs me, as he dips into the fridge and brings out his latest experiment – strawberry beer sorbet. 'We're planning on pouring it into the beer bottles and serving it like that. I want to bring all the elements of the kitchen back into the bar. The bar is the new kitchen'.