Let children into restaurants
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“A glass of Vermentino, and your children’s menu please.” I am sitting alone at the bar of Cafe Murano in Covent Garden, so you may not be surprised to learn that the waiter returned a puzzled expression. But the service here is almost forcefully obliging. Maybe something in my tone implied it was an emergency – a woman starts running around in search. “Madame!” She brisks past anxiously for the third time. “Your children’s menu is coming.”
It arrives – chicken Milanese, arancini, rigatoni a
It arrives – chicken Milanese, arancini, rigatoni a
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