After temporary residencies in some other venues' basements, Andy Milz, Olly Brading and Elliot Ball (three chums with impeccable cocktail-centric CVs) set up a permanent basecamp at this 1920s-inspired gin joint. 'Camp' is the operative word for flights of fancy whose garish presentation usually involves some tongue-in-cheek gewgaw. How about Tom & Jerry (a spicy bourbon, Curaçao and salted chestnut gelato float served with a cheese-baited mousetrap on the side), Instaspam (an apple brandy sour served in a retro luncheon meat tin) or the equally outrageous Bag O’ Chips (a poitín-based wheeze wrapped in a paper cone). Fortunately, CTC's cocktails are more sophisticated than their joke-shop garnishes suggest. And, lest we put off purists, the boys are quite capable of shaking up a folderol-free Brooklyn, Boulevardier or any other classic you care to call. A 'global tapas' menu is now up and running for peckish imbibers.
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