After a somewhat ‘squeezed’ start, the evening ended on a memorable high
It feels like I often start these things with a confession. In fact, The Barbary Next Door gets two confessions. First up, the compact nature of the place means note-keeping and eating is a little tricky, so the former was sacrificed for the more important latter. Ordinarily that wouldn’t matter but, when you’re trying weeks later to make sense of items such as “carmelita merkado” or the specifics of “Essaouirian tomato salad”, notes would have been useful.
