“Trust me, it’s not.”

One swig later and he agreed: “Whoa!”

Hemingway’s ‘Papa Doble’ cocktail is, in a way, like the great American novelist himself: macho and headstrong with a sensitive side.

Funny enough, both the drink’s brawn and flowery appeal are due largely to grapefruit juice, which is mixed with cruzan rum, lime juice and maraschino juice.

Rum-based drinks can sometimes be too syrupy for my taste, but the tart grapefruit in this Double Daddy keeps you from feeling a sugar rush.

I first discovered the Papa Doble with my pops during happy hour last March at a wonderful bar/restaurant in Wilmington, Delaware called Ernest & Scott Taproom — named for the great writers and imbibers.

I can’t confirm whether the Papa Doble ever brushed the moustache of Señor Hemingway, but I’d like to think he’d approve.

Bistrotheque at 23–27 Wadeson Street in E2 is a part of town I thought I’d only end up in if I fell asleep on a night bus.

Only my other half and I — after following a trendy-spectacled friend’s advice — very purposefully made our way there last weekend to celebrate our anniversary. It also happened to be the end of a three-week detox for me.

Picture me stone-cold sober, brushing my arms along the sides of an old warehouse in East London, waiting for a secret door to open up. It’s not quite that difficult to find the entrance to Bistrotheque, but that gives you some idea.

Oh hipsters.

Anyway, what did I have in my hand as I toasted four happy years and my under-worked liver?

A passion fruit caipirinha.

Good morning, sunshine!

I usually don’t like caipirinhas. I find them too sweet and not as punchy as their lime cousin the margarita. However, this version was nice and tart. It tasted sort of grapefruity.

The setting (once we were safely seated inside) couldn’t have been better too: bright and white without being sterile. A piano player massaged the keys gently to elevator tunes of familiar songs like Rihanna’s Only Girl (In the World). The prices were mid-range and very reasonable considering the quality of delights. The food and drinks were delicious — both in taste and presentation.

Alright, hipster pals, fire up your Instagram.

I am a long-time, drooling mad fan of George Clooney — ever since his days as Dr. Ross. His films (both as an actor and director) are some of my favourites.

I don’t like to think of George as just some corporate shill.

So I was intrigued when I saw the photo accompanying this recent BBC story:

George Clooney and Matt Damon try out Cambridge gym

Check out his t-shirt. Whose brand was George pimping now?

It turns out it’s his own. Well, that’s somewhat of a relief!

You can read all about his booze here.

Unfortunately it looks like the tequila is only available in the States at the moment.

So has anyone tried it? What do you think?

This is a reason to go to Nordic Bar.

It’s like a Cosmopolitan only fuller and berrier. It’s too runny to be a jam but I’d spread it on my toast if it were possible.

Here’s a confession: I had never heard of one of its main ingredients. How often do you come across lingonberry juice?

I’ve since learnt that lingonberries are related to blueberries and cranberries, only not quite as tart as the latter.

A few quick Google searches also allude to a variety of possible health benefits of lingonberry juice, namely around blood pressure.

Ha – as if you needed a medical excuse to try it!

A delicious alternative to Brazil’s national cocktail. Its sweet like liquorice instead of sugarcane.

“The exhaust on my Volvo is very warm.”

“Do these ring any bells?” I asked the bartender at Nordic Bar.

“No,” she said, staring at me as if she was about to cut me off before I even ordered my first drink.

I wasn’t drunk or hallucinating. These were real menu items — well, shots — once served at Nordic Bar, the Scandinavian hideout on 25 Newman Street in London.

I was a regular for a couple of years after it first opened back in 2007. It was kitsch. It was ironic. It was random. It was fun. ABBA always hummed in the background. No matter the season, the bar TV replayed downhill skiing competitions. In the back, a large triptych of Swedish actor Max von Sydow showed you how to properly skoal.

I never worked out if the reindeer head on the wall was real.

Times have changed. The place has been under new management for a couple of years now, according to the bartender. Sadly, most of the silly Nordic flair is gone — apart from some ABBA photos glued to the wall.

The hilarious drinks menu has been mostly scrapped and what’s left is only vaguely inspired by Nordic culture. Have no fear, though, aquavit is still included.

Yet you can still have a fantastic night here. I dare you to spin the shot wheel behind the bar. Good luck if you land on Husky Poo.

There’s also one drink on the menu that will probably have me coming back. We’ll get to that later.

I may have mentioned once or twice that I love airport bars. Unfortunately today I was not preparing for a new adventure but saying goodbye to two visitors.

There isn’t much choice before the security gates at Heathrow Terminal 3 but Three Bells is a good standard place to soak up as much time with your friends and family before you must sadly part ways.

Bon voyage!

It was free cocktail night in St. Martin’s Courtyard in Covent Garden. The drink on tap was Bloom gin and tonic with strawberries.

I can’t give a full review as I suspect the drinks were watered a bit — they were free — but I did pick up on those light floral hints Bloom promises.

Also, who knew gin and strawberries worked so well together? Must try this one at home!