Mon-Fri, 5pm-2am; Sat-Sun, noon-2am
4, 5, 6, L, N, Q, R, W at 14th St.-Union Sq.
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There are veal-calf pens more spacious and forgiving than this tiny tapas bar's U-shaped dining hutch/torture chamber. A yogi master, a Romanian gymnast, and the Human Pretzel from Ripley's Believe It or Not! would find it difficult to sup here simultaneously. It doesn't help matters that the baying young crowd is territorially aggressive like junkyard dogs. But the food, if you can find a place to put it, is terrific—more traditional and less expensive than Casa Mono next door. Especially the chorizo with piquillos and the ham bocadito. If you go off-hours—right before the 1:30 a.m. last call, or on a weekend afternoon—you lessen your chances of being jabbed in the ribs or poked in the eye.