I could make a strong case for naming Singer the best bar in town—and on the right night, way past midnight, it can be. Drinkers gather around tables made from old sewing machines in two dimly-lit rooms to create an atmosphere of conspiratorial chatter. The drink of choice is not beer—although you might spot a few stray stags chugging away—but Wiśniówka, the sticky, cherry-flavored vodka that the barman produces from behind a secret curtain.