Down in the cellar of the 1898 church, directly under The Preacher's Son, a small speakeasy pours cocktails that read classic on the surface and are anything but underneath: top-shelf spirits, syrups and infusions made on premises. Live jazz turns up in the low-lit room, and every winter it becomes the Miracle pop-up, buried in holiday kitsch. The after-dinner descent when the dining room upstairs has done its part.