Bar Cool

It should not be considered hyperbolic to commend Bar Kohl as the epitome of cool. Despite having taken up its laughable position in the rheumatic arsenal of down-with-the-kids Dad, when one delves into the Aladdin's cave of English adjectives there is no more apposite a word. Bar Kohl is cool, ingenuously cool. What is perhaps even more appealing is the disparity between this paragon of cool and its accompanying price-tag: Bar Kohl isn't just luxury; it's affordable luxury, too.

This particular watering-hole's cool-appeal is evident from the start. The place has two front doors and the capacious room within is bisected by the hefty, oaken, bottle-bejewelled bar, alight with the glittering of Absolut and Stolichnaya. Intricate cornices and ceiling roses lend a touch of classic Edinburgh gentility, but refined elegance simply isn't cool enough for Bar Kohl: one ceiling is plastered in comic strips, the floor is set with super-swish black stone and the furnishings come right out of a country pub. Impressively, the mish-mash doesn't jar; but rather coalesces into an equilibrium of cool.

But what am I saying; the drinks are the thing! And what lip-smackingly good drinks there are: the Honeysuckle Daiquiri is goldenly sweet, delicately, florally perfumed with honey and accented with a sharp cadence of lemon. It is fragrant and bolstering; the cold-toddy of the cocktail list. As its boisterous name suggests, the Hammertime is for when you really want to hit it - a three-layer shooter with one throat-rasping glug each of Aftershock, absinthe and polish vodka. To finish on an altogether more graceful note, I introduce the home-spun and guzzle-worthy Turktini. It is lusciously smooth, creamy with the mellow calm of chocolate and the heady perfume of an oriental rose garden, Turkish Delight for grown-ups. And that's the irony of Bar Kohl, it can never seem too grown up; that would be just plain boring.