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| - Ye gads. Harumph. It pains me to write such an unfortunately negative evaluation of what seemed to be a neighbourhood standard. I was walking along the boulevard, my cane in one hand and a work of historical academia in the other, a satirical look at the Algerian slave trade, and happened upon this 'Italian Bar', which i believe in the translation. I've never been much for the southern languages, but I daresay my background in Latin helps me understand much of the Italian language. I digress. I entered in with the hopes of a breakfast and a restoring Gin and Tonic (my malaria often acts up this time of year), but was sadly disappointed. My complaint has nothing to do with the polite service or ambiance, although the music was a bit loud and I had to turn my hearing aid down a few notches, but rather with the abysmal fare they are plopping onto the tables in this joint.
Why would a gentleman such as myself want peameal bacon which has been pre-cooked and thrown onto a grill when ready to eat? Or a sausage for that matter? The real slap in the face was the toast, which cost about 90pence, thin, dry, bended pieces of rubbish. When I pay as much for a couple of slices of the old daily bread as costs a loaf, I expect at least an inch thickness and a nice, moist centre, not the bloody bird feed I got!
I must say that the eggs were poached expertly, and the fruit salad was nice, but that is beside the point. I beg you, have your morning nosh elsewhere.
Good Day Sirs!
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