Noche de pescado y patatas fritas.

A spot of food porn on the occasion of the local bar's weekly fish and chips night. To avoid the embarrassment of sitting with (other) fat Brits I ordered mine to take out.
The food aspect of the place seems good under the new management, but aesthetically not so pleasing - A huge projection TV for lager-fuelled louts on holiday to bay at the football matches, and SEVEN chalkboards inside advertising specials, which added to the TEN chalkboards outside (the extra could only fit in a few of them) seems like overkill. Despite this I heard one (middleaged, fat, extremely burnt) Brit ask what the bar had to offer by way of food and drink. He meant it seriously, being a Southerner (no sense of irony, unlike Yorkshiremen to whom sarcasm is a sacred linguistic tool). The waitress brought him a menu.