Tapas Bar Capaco

Richard was foolish/desperate or both when he suggested that I write a review of some restaurants down here in the tourist ghettos. Because quite frankly my opinion of restaurants down here is dire, although this has compelled me to improve my own culinary skills with no small success in that arena.
However I am being unjustly harsh, there are to my knowledge 2 that I would recommend, much less take anyone to. The problem is that in general the tourists here are only here for a short time, which allows the food trade to be high on presentation and low on content, and always with a sting in the tail, namely the bill. Get ready for smiles, flourishes, napkins wafted in your face, anything to get you in the place and watch, feel and sense things go slowly downhill from there.
The first shining star that permeates this tourist gloom is Capaco’s, run and managed by the dapper but muscular Oliver, who single-handedly keeps about 30 seats happy.
These seats are arranged in comfy alcoves with subdued lighting, and the walls that surround you are covered in “hellos and anecdotes” from clients going back as far as 1995. Oliver encourages you with the help of a felt tipped pen to add your one liner, albeit most of you being teachers, this will probably run to several.
The menu consists of about 35 items either in small or large portions tapas style, and are all exceedingly tasty Mr Kipling, yes sir indeed. The house wine at about 7 bits a bottle is always a winner.
I have been there maybe about 10/15 times and have never been disappointed, and I am incredibly critical and like a greyhound in the slips, will be streaking for home at the slightest gastronomic misdemeanour, real or imagined. For two, expect to pay, about €50 with wine and ron miels to steady the nerves for the drive home. But book ahead and ask for a corner table, cosy, romantic and reminiscent of back streets Parisian 5* cafés.