Salman Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses suits the rum well, for there is a certain sinful pleasure in drinking outdoors. At The Library, the windows open up to Bassac Lane and the room’s broad, wooden windowsills prove irresistible chairs in which to sit and watch life on the lane go by. Neighbourhood kids trot past with curious glances. The disco moto man stops to sell local snacks by the bagful. The lane now counts four drinking rooms as inhabitants and each one has its own angle. Rum is the preferred poison at The Library, a frozen daiquiri the preferred bullet. Made with fresh fruit, a jigger-and-a-half of Havana Club, a shot of Cointreau and a splash of secret sauce, the frozen concoction comes served in a martini glass, each one as unique as the fruit that defines it. Lime is thin and tart like a margarita, the pineapple a bit creamier. And both of them pack a clean rum punch. The Library, Bassac Lane.
