I was curious when I heard about a new cocktail bar that had recently opened in Portsdown Road. They had a strange but interesting concept: strictly no beer and no wine – purely cocktails; and, as I discovered when I walked into the bar, they had no menus either.

The first thing the bartenders tell you is that they’re here to create a personalized, one-of-a-kind cocktail, just for you. You feel super special right away, if a little overwhelmed by the choice. I had no idea what I wanted the first time I stepped in, and I can’t remember what I ended up getting, but I do remember that the drinks were pretty damn good. That; and it was fun chatting to the bartender and watching him shake his stuff.

The second time I went back, my friends and I decided to stay outdoors. They have an outside seating area that’s slightly more rustic than the inside. You sit on wooden banks that conjure up memories of tiny wooden splinters dug into the surface of your fingertips when you were little, clambering around on the playground. No matter, at least you can smoke freely and enjoy your personalized cocktail outdoors.

A friend and I wound up at the bar again one night looking forward to cocktails outdoors. When we sat down on the wooden benches and asked the waiter what he could recommend (we felt like old pros, having been there before!), we got a bit of a slap in the face when he told us that they no longer served cocktails outside - only beer, wine and champagne were allowed now.

– Why, was the obvious first question.
– For quality reasons, he replied, a little sheepishly, a little snootily.
– What quality reasons? I asked.

Apparently it was a part of their much tightened and ‘more’ carefully thought out concept. They now refuse to serve cocktails outside because it takes away from the ‘Klee experience’, i.e. customers interacting with the bartenders inside. Apparently they believe in that part of their concept so much so that they reneged on the no wine and no beer policy, on customer’s freedom of choice, and on basic economics.

– Fine, we said, can we sit inside then?
– No, the inside is full.

Since we’d come all the way to Portsdown Road for cocktails, we relented and asked for a glass of wine instead. And then found out that they only serve wine in bottles. Okay then.

The fourth and last time I went to Klee, I thought I knew how to beat the system. I went inside with a few friends, and, after being told that all seats inside were either full or reserved, asked the waiter if we could order our cocktails inside, ‘interact’ with the bartender to make Mr. Concept Guy – whoever you are – happy, and then take our drinks outside. They weren’t impressed by what I thought was pretty clever (and logical) idea, and told me that went against the ‘concept’, too.

– But , they added, if we wanted to have a quick drink before the people who had made reservations came, we could.

We should have left, but it was another case of giving in. I really wanted my friends, who had never been to Klee, and whom I’d raved to about their cocktails, to try at least one drink before we left. So we sat down on the sofas in the corner, and expectantly waited for the bartender to offer up suggestions on what yummy, personalized drinks he could make us. I really shouldn’t have held my breath.

– You pick a fruit, what fruit do you want? He asked.

Fruit? Why did it have to start with fruit? It limits a plethora of alternative options. Like those Linnaeus classifications you use in science class to find out what type of organism you’re looking at in your biology textbook. You start from the top and decide whether it has a vertebrate or gills or whatnot, and each choice leads you towards what might end up being a fish, but will rule out that it could be a mammal. Or in drink speak: If I have to start off by picking fruit, I’m never going to travel down the list that will get me a chocolate espresso martini, am I? And if you’re a first timer, you really don’t know the options you have and go with the flow. Okay, so maybe it was just the one incompetent bartender, but still.

My overwhelmed friend picked raspberry as his fruit.
The bartender suggested a raspberry-saketini.

I went with the flow and picked blueberry.
The bartender suggested a blueberry-saketini.

I stared at him, really hoping he was kidding. When he stared back at me in earnest, I asked him slowly, like I would ask a five year old.

– But... aren’t they... the same... thing?
– No, he assured me, they’re different.

They weren’t. And unless Klee changes its die-hard, hypocritical stance on being ‘true to the concept’, I won't be recommending this place to anybody anytime soon.