There is a queue outside in the summer and inside in the winter between the full coat hangers and the flustered clientele, but its because the food is better than good in Bartolo. A small piece of Italy, with waiters near to retirement and kitch frescos on the wall with a pub atmosphere and a larger than life propriotor (Perhaps this is Bartolo?) behind the counter who gestures you to your table with his chin. And once you are sat down. Even though its not exactly intimate, everyone a little close together, everything is delicious.
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