This tiny cafe (or ""caff"" if you're going for full-on Blighty realness) serves up British comfort food that is as close to the real thing as you're going to get in NYC. Expats will revel in beans on toast and Welsh rarebit smothered with branston pickle--all knocked back with properly prepared pots of tea or British drinks like Ribena or Irn Bru. Yes it's bland, fattening, and a carb nightmare: that's the point. Expect playful cheekiness from owner Nikki and staff.
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