This minimalistic café is located on the second floor of The Zhongshan Building, right above OUR ArtProjects. One way to reach this eatery is to go through the Tintabudi bookstore and head out the back where you’ll be greeted by a mural drawn by Japanese chalk artist Chalkboy. The intimate space and alfresco area is filled with wooden decor and little knickknacks nonchalantly scattered around. The drinks are Piu Piu Piu’s calling card. Crowd-favourite Sour Lemon + is preserved lemons in a concoction of soda and shochu; sweet, sour and bitter all at once (there’s also a non-alcoholic version). For coffee, barista Unagi sources his beans from local roasters Aim Coffee and uses them in the café’s espresso, black and white coffee drinks. Pair that with the kaya butter walnut toastie made by home baker Queeny, who also bakes cakes on a rotation basis.

Drop Exchange is a Wall Street-themed bar and restaurant that serves Persian and North Indian cuisine. Go figure. Oddly paired ideas aside, this place has plenty going for it, not least the prices of drinks and spirits that fluctuate on a stock exchange-like board (there’s even an app on the Apple App Store that helps you keep track of the prices). Drinks aren’t the only draw here, however, as co-owners Deepak Shettigar, Jyoti Mishra and Payal Gautam – who all hail from India – are determined to introduce KLites to true Indian cooking, using authentic recipes from Bombay chefs and their grandmother’s kitchens, as well as importing almost half the spices used in the dishes from India. You won’t go wrong by sticking with the Northern Indian dishes you know: the Rogan Josh has a richer and deeper flavour than what is served at other Kashmiri eateries; and the Chicken Chargrills (chicken marinated with cream cheese cooked over a charcoal tandoor) are tender little chicken bites. However, it’s the traditional spice-laden dishes and breads that stand out: the Cutlis, vegetarian cutlets made with green coconut chutney, captures the spirit of Parsi cuisine in one spicy green bite, and the rumali (which means ‘handkerchief’ in north India) bread is worth eating on its own – or to mop up the curries, chutneys and sauces clean off your plate.

With a centuries-long history that involves drunken sailors, sugar-cane labourers and uni students getting toasted on two-for-one daiquiri nights, rum has come to be regarded as little more than a party drink or mixing spirit.