Hidden way behind a dark window on a quiet block on North Halsted. There is a space that blurs the boundaries between your regular Lincoln-park bar and a mellow fire-lit speak easy. It's a place that presents both the excitement of large crowds and live hip-hop, and the anonymity of a cool whining darkness. The bar is lined with antique bottles from the turn of the century. Tonics, they were called, for their supposed abilities to counter any ailment. The look and style is indefinite. The soft blocks of leather sofa are a jigsaw puzzle, each night bearing new ways to interlock with themselves. The space has no set identity. It is to each guest, what he chooses to see. It is to each guest what she chooses to be. The Tonic Room, it is called, for its universal ability to adapt. - David Kupcinet - Chicago Sun Times & Red Streak.