Year of Eating Differently (94): Cafe Amato, Old Compton Street

I was feeling a bit lousy today; tired, and a bit of a cold leaving me with painful sinuses. Wandered down to Old Compton Street and found this place, which from the street looks like a patisserie. But not so. Inside it turns out to be an Italian restaurant, complete with an overly Italian waiter.
It's probably churlish to complain, but the guy had all the standard stereotypes (these do at least save time). He flounced, seemed strangely aggressive in leading customers to particular tables, and when I ordered the arrabiatta, repeated this back to me in an accent which made me think I'd ordered chicken instead. I also asked for a cup of tea and got a bottle of mineral water instead. Figure that out. The glass that accompanied it was filthy.
However, the pasta got dished up quickly and was as spicy as it needed to be. Pricey - 8.75 for a plate of pasta that's delivered in uninspiring surroundings, unless you really like art deco women painted on the walls - but quite filling, even though I had to stop at Pret on the way back to get a chocolate bar. Would say more, but my head feels at least twice the size it normally is, and this interferes with the proper conductance of my duties.