It did have the benefit of having empty tables, a rare find mid-afternoon on Mother's Day. The bread was good, but not plentiful, and the waitress, who thought she could speak English (well, maybe she did as well as a Nigerian diplomat after a 6-day Berlitz course) acted as if we'd done something unspeakable by asking for more.
The short ribs were gristly, the vacio industrial strengh, the fish fishy, and the chicken forgettable.
It bore as much resemblance to Argentina as it did to Finland.
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