If you've ever been like, "man, I really need a Colombian bar to have a nice quiet time in, but I can't for the life of me get that Secret Service job interview", then you need to tramp on over to Tu Candela, a red-lit, cave-like, Brickell hole-in-the-wall (lined with tribal masks, trombones, and vintage records) whose original Colombian outpost was, 100% seriously, the joint where the not-so-secrets about Obama's men getting serviced all began.

Their awesomely sprawling booze menu will insist you take down 15+ mojitos/margs, plus signature cocktails like the Cholon (Jack, ginger, basil, Champagne), and also offers a "Bottles & Shots" section, from which upwards of 60 Scotches (Glenlivet 18yr, Johnnie Blue) and various other fire-waters can be ordered in sippy cups with twisty straws. Wait, no. Bottles or shots. Yes, those.

They're leaning on next-door Kamachi for sushi rolls like the shrimp tempura/cream cheese Candela, plus crepes and sandos including the King Steak (w/ bacon, ham, mozz, onions), and the pesto-mayo-covered "Classic Ham", which, unlike the classic Hamm, did not just have sex with your mom, sister, girlfriend, and Wendy's cashier you winked at last week, in the time it took you to read this sentence. God, he's handsome.

DJs'll rotate in every night for a dance-filled "rumba", and there's a happy hour from 4-7p during which drinks are 50 percent off, much like the clothes of every Colombian prostitute in a 30-mile radius of the original location.