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Gin and jellyfish? You could be in a bar in Singapore.

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In the cocktail world, Singapore almost inevitably brings to mind the pink, gin-based, grenadine-spiked one Singapore penduluma drink born in 1915 in the stylish Long rod at the Raffles Hotel. In those cramped colonial times, it was inappropriate for women to enjoy themselves in public, so a bartender formulated a cocktail that resembled fruit juice. Today, the creative minds in quirky bars across the city are putting the same spirit of ingenuity to work, driven by environmental awareness and the island's diverse heritage, and highlighting some unexpected ingredients. Here are six notable spots.

“The great thing about gin is that the possibilities are endless,” said Lidiyanah K, Atlas' head bartender, as he ticked off some of the many directions I could take: “Floral, citrus, spicy, herbaceous.” Gin, although defined by the taste of juniper, is hardly homogeneous. And if there was ever a place where you could learn about the diversity of gins produced with local botanicals, Atlas is the. Yes, it is in the lobby of Parkzichtpleina grand art deco office building that houses several embassies, but calling it a lobby bar feels a bit like calling the Beatles a rock 'n' roll band or Georges Seurat a landscape painter. Think of it as a gin museum: it offers more than 1,300 varieties of the spirit, many of them on display in a soaring 26-foot gold-plated tower. The collection includes a veritable archive of historic bottles, which are retrieved from one of the tower's high shelves when someone orders a selection from the 'vintage martini' section. You can choose your own gin from any decade of the 20th century (60 to 275 Singapore dollars, or about $45 to $205).

The Gilded Age-inspired space also features a room with an epic champagne collection. Renovated in 2017 as a tribute to early 20th-century Manhattan, it features tufted leather furnishings, vaulted ceilings with Art Nouveau paintings, and large Cleopatra- and King Tut-themed murals.

“Why do we actually eat caviar? Why can't we just leave the sturgeon alone?” Sasha Wijidessa asked as she floated a dollop of vegan black garlic caviar onto a cube of kombu ice, floating in a vodka mix in a martini glass. She instructed me to melt the ice so that it formed a cap. Its umami essence permeated the drink.

Over the course of the night, she also prepared a Jellyfish Martini (gin infused with jellyfish; distillate of fish leaf, a peppery local plant; spirulina-infused dry vermouth; and oil infused with roasted kelp: $25) and the So You Bought Sad Corn ($25), a Scottish-based drink sweetened with corn vinegar caramel.

Fura, a narrow, minimalist bar on the second floor of a colonial-style shophouse, is owned and run by Ms. Wijidessa and her partner in business and life, Christina Rasmussen, the former head collector at Noma. The drinks and dishes they offer (they call it future food) border on the surreal, and their mission is to provide a glimpse of what consumption could look like if it focused on creating balance in the ecosystem . For example, they make smart use of sustainable crops such as tonka beans and abundant species such as jellyfish. Yes, the owners are happy to tell you all about lactic fermentation and the vegan custard and meringue used in their imaginative recipes if you ask, but they also firmly promise that this is a bar and not a lecture hall.


The setting of Analogous initiative bee Chimes, an eggshell-white former 19th-century convent and girls' school, belies the futuristic mentality of the bar, where everything is plant-based, even some of the furniture. (The tables are made of mycelium, the thread-like tissue of mushrooms, bound with wood chips and molded into shape.) The colossal, enveloping undulating bar of aquamarine evokes ocean waves. It was 3D printed using more than 3,500 pounds of recycled plastic.

Earth's ecological future inspired Vijay Mudaliar, co-owner, to create a menu that attempts to answer a question similar to Fura's: what if over-cultivation and climate change wipe out certain crops and foods? To that end, most drinks contain an analogue (wink, wink) of a well-known ingredient. In addition to the local yuzu, kombuchas, vinegars and distillates, for example, replace fresh citrus fruits. The Faux Espresso ($26) consisted of roasted chicory, roasted barley and carob. (Coffee is among the most overprocessed crops, Mr. Mudaliar said.) Coconut nectar, not sugar, provided sweetness is concerned (sugarcane is also overprocessed), and whipped aquafaba, the liquid from a can of chickpeas, took the place of dairy foam. And a dizzyingly absurdist drama of a cocktail ($26) whose name contains a swear word poking fun at the gastronomic world's obsession with luxury, which vaguely resembled a Bellini — a mixture of peach-infused gin, grape juice fermented with champagne yeast and a type of seaweed with a musky and vaguely truffle flavor, topped with “caviar” made from seaweed pearls. It was as wonderful as it was stupid.


On an appropriately steamy evening, Jungle Ballroom's bar manager, Adrian Besa, told me about his recent visit to a remote Cambodian distillery that makes gin using herbs and botanicals grown on an electricity-free biodynamic farm. He took a bottle from a high shelf and smelled it at me; it smelled fresh and vegetal – just vaguely piney. Cambodia is just one Southeast Asian country whose flavors take center stage at Jungle Ballroom, a glitzy venue that exudes a DJ-driven, clubby atmosphere later in the evening. Mr. Besa also poured me a taste of musky-sweet coconut wine from the Philippines; fragrant, spicy Sri Lankan arrack, distilled from coconut juice; craft gins from China, Thailand, the Philippines and Singapore; and fruity, with the scent of butter pastry pineapple cake Soju from local distillery Compendium Spirits.

Mr. Besa has created a menu that represents different layers of the jungle: Canopy, with bright, fruity, spicy drinks and various nut ingredients; Understorey, which includes several effervescent and spiced or spicy cocktails, such as my favorite, the Shrub ($26), a spicy blend of Indian gin infused with fresh and slightly nutty pandan leaves, vermouth and a house-made vinegared pear shrub; and Forest Floor, where drinks feature rich fruit and dense, spicy spicy flavors and aromas. It was a multisensory freefall, and I didn't want it to end.


When Yugnes Susela was growing up in Singapore, his family would eat chicken curry for dinner almost every Sunday, sometimes accompanied by a shot of whiskey. So it wasn't that much of a challenge for Mr. Susela, one of the founders of the Elephant room, to combine whiskey and curry in a glass. The Chicken Curry ($27), the bar's tasty riff on an Old Fashioned, topped with a strip of fried chicken skin, may sound bizarre — satirical, even — but to Mr. Susela it made perfect sense.

“If the finished product looks good, tastes great and smells great, it's a cocktail,” he said as he pulled a bottle of fenugreek-infused tequila from an apothecary-style cabinet that held jars and bottles of herbs, spices or sprigs. liquids. He poured a few drops of tequila, and the almondy, earthy aromas of a tiny bit of maple rang out with the clarity of a crystal bell. It was the signature ingredient in the Goan Rabbit ($25), a subcontinental take on the margarita. Indian spices also played a starring role in Ramu's Fizz ($25), a twist on the classic Ramos gin fizz, a citrus drink with a meringue-like texture that comes from egg whites, cream and vigorous shaking. In Mr. Susela's version, it was flavored with cumin-infused gin, ginger syrup and spiced cream. And the house mangosteen-strawberry syrup provided the Wild and Fresh ($27), a twist on the famous Negroni, with a salty-sour dimension.


The neon sign behind the bar Sago House it says, “Don't try,” but that doesn't mean you give up and drink your life away. Are the epitaph by the writer Charles Bukowski (as the bar manager, Naz Zurimi, explained: it is a commandment to be true to yourself – no pretenses allowed). It's no surprise that the friendly atmosphere of the bar feels like you're hanging out in an old friend's apartment – and not just because upon arrival the staff writes your name in chalk on the bar or table top, as if they were your regular seat to spare.

In October, Sago House moved to a spacious street-level location, a drastic change from the compact third-floor space where it debuted in 2020. But it lost none of its cozy charm. The three owners, local industry veterans, applied their original DIY approach to the new space, with shelves made from wine crates and sewing machine tables used as furniture. The six-drink menu (from $24) posted on the bar Instagram accountchanges weekly, but always offers different versions of the same classic cocktail styles: an old fashioned, a highball, a sour, a tropical cocktail, a daisy and a martini or a Manhattan.


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