A neighbourhood bistro with kitsch to burn. Menus come inside vintage record covers, and dishes have a quirky twist (meatballs on Popsicle sticks, née Lamb Lollies, aren’t quite crisp enough on the outside, but arrive with tart mint-yogurt-cucumber dipping sauce). Such specialties as a mean build-your-own thin-crust pizza and, on one recent trip, a venison T-bone in red wine demi-glace, dispel the myth that bar food is bad food.