There is nothing showy about this little place. The single room interior is reached through a low doorway. It is crammed with long tables - patrons get seated wherever they can find space. We took the last table on the narrow terrazzo – an intimate space to say the least. The outside seating consists of low, unforgiving wooden benches with a table that’s only slightly higher. If you have any thighs to speak of whatsoever you will not find these tables a comfortable choice! If you squirm round a bit you’ll be just fine.

This isn’t a restaurant geared towards the tourist market – it is an authentic, ‘local’ kind of place. The menu comes on a photocopied piece of paper and you’ll have to do without a handy English translation. I find this adds a degree of pleasant trepidation to the ordering process ever since ordering a plate of tripe adorned with a boiled potato in Barcelona. There are plenty of things that aren’t in the average phrasebook but sound a bit like shellfish or ‘some kind of meat’. In preparation we ordered a large carafe of the vino del casa just in case some anaesthetising was needed later.

We shouldn’t have worried, our meals were delicious. The safely translated mozzarella and tomato salad was as fresh and delicate as you would wish while the Blonde’s gamborinetti were as prawn-like as anticipated. I followed up with some cheeky little polpettine (meatballs) in a spicy tomato sauce – very tasty although the accompanying pattatine took some patience to wait for. The Blonde was slightly less impressed with her cuttlefish and spinach and I caught her gazing longingly at my meatballs on more than one occasion. Newlyweds, huh?

We lingered late into the evening over crème caramel and coffee. It is the sort of place that makes you want to do that sort of thing. I really loved this place: bustling, atmospheric and authentic. The staff makes you feel at ease through the language barrier and it won’t break the bank either.