A dark, bitter roast with a taste of flash-bulb grit. Slightly watery, dirty aftertaste. A scoop of flavourless foam tells a tale of burnt beans and tight budget.
No celebrities here, just an empty, desolate 80's restaurant, a place for photographers to hide while waiting for that big story. Dark lighting, dark furniture, and dark coffee. Barry White on a loop. Bizarrely the food arrived in two plates, with ample space on the second to hold it all. One for Cucina? Never mind, it's good food. Great actually.
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