Crisp fish still whispering heat from the pan, cool cabbage tucked in like a quiet thought, and a sauce that drifts between smoke and cream. A squeeze of lime, sharp and bright, and suddenly everything wakes up.

Dark as polished mahogany, crowned with a thin, tawny foam, three coffee beans resting on top. The Espresso Martini belongs to the later hours, a drink that wakes you gently, rather than sharply.

It arrives glossy and tangled, carrying sweetness, salt, and something gently sour that makes your mouth water before the fork has even reached it. A bowl of noodles that holds an entire city.