A good martini, it seems, makes an impression. Even better if a curl of citrus is suspended in the clear waters, tantalisingly calling to you. To resist is merely to desist, and what could be the point of that in the smaller scheme of things?
Casa de Cass is a fine spot for lunch, as UN House has discovered, but an even better plot for evening dining, perhaps because of the absence of said UN stiffs. You may well have the place to yourself, unless the owner drops in for a chat, and the attentive waiter will make sure you don’t regret your privacy as you float on the elongated notes of Chet Baker. A big bottle of red, then, and a neat triplet of bacon wrapped chicken in white sauce; a slab of king fish for my opposite number. We ate well, and drank even more. The martini was superfluous, but isn’t that the point?