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Worth a visit for the décor alone, which is a wildly out of control collection of ancient clocks and dusty trinkets piled high on a bar, with pressed concrete tiles and a kitchen that still operates largely by fire. There’s no menu. Instead, you’ll be taken out back to sample from a series of pots the wares of the day (a selection of meat or pulse based stews) and then, while you tuck in over lashings of free mint tea, while Monsieur Berrada who is somewhere in his seventies, performs handstands and somersaults for his adoring dining public.