The cellar café-bar indulges in bohemian excess, at least when it comes to the ambience, vaguely harking back to an imaginary past: Aznavour on repeat, lots of random posters and objects no doubt acquired at flea markets, a hodgepodge of second-hand furniture – some comfortable, some utterly unusable, such as the table in the back room that was just too low to actually get our legs under.
Nothing to complain about, Manouche is what it is: a cosy, kooky, affordable, munchies-friendly cave with simple, nice eats.
