For a time, Punch was always with you -- sugary at kiddie birthdays, insufficiently vodka-spiked in high school, Everclear-and-spittle'd in college -- but sadly, the two of you drifted apart. Now Punch has returned, and wants to meet you at Rebar.
On the Trump International's mezzanine, Rebar's a swank, plush-seated cocktail lounge replete with b&w architectural photos, vase-festooned shelves, two massive Caravaggios, and 80 feet of windows overlooking the Chicago River/water-taxiing Iowans frantically searching for Oprah. In a Trumpian move, the signature beverage comes in a massive, sterling-silver bowl, and goes by the defiantly non-Prohibition name "Dreams": rosé Champagne, fresh strawberries, lime juice, and p.i.n.k. vodka -- itself hopped up on caffeine & guarana infusions, causing it to launch into manic rants against tipping waitresses. If you don't require a vat of beverage, choose from among specialty cocktails like the Patron/Limoncello "High Voltage", 25 half-bottle Champagnes, three categories of sake, or traditional bottle service ranging from the self-promotional ($300 for Trump Vodka) to the grandly delusional -- a $6,500 bottle of cognac which, if you expense it, will get you fired faster than Tiffany Fallon.
For grub, Rebar's serving up "sushi elements", starting with the fairly simple (seared beef cylinders, tuna tartar) and culminating in delicately-prepared ridiculousness like unaki canapé and the shark bacon maki roll -- because like Punch, Bacon is always with you, even in the perilous deep.