Never More

From its inception as a bar, Nevermore has been as much an inspiration in upcycling truly local trastos and other junk-cum-gold as it is a place to go and have a drink. Take the urinal, for example, pegged to a random wall and filled with walnuts. Nice, boys. Duchamp would be proud.

These days, the place doubles as a private restaurant, and they’ll lock the door behind you. For around 20 eurakos (depending, probably, on how big you wanna go) you and your amiguetes will dine last-supper style in a large room just for you, outfitted with recuperated contadores eléctricos, umbrella and cane handles turned into coat hooks, iron safes with wine treasures inside and more adaptations that you’ve still yet to see in a bajillion Pinterest posts. The humble kitchen is in the room with you, as is the friendly staff of three who will feed you a four or five course meal and top off your glass with Casa Mariol reds and whites repeatedly (booze apart).

It is a bit like a dinner party but without any of the work and stress – hallelujah! – and while finicky gastro aficionados might not shoot off rockets, it is a fun, affordable, special evening. When dinner’s over, back to the bar you go for Edgar Allen Poe-esque drinking (‘tis called Nevermore, after all).

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