"This is what Lavapiés bars used to be like—long before the tattooed, crop-topped, fixie-riding kids Brooklynized the neighborhood. Melo's has no website. You can't pay with a card. The menu is eight items long. Ask for a wine list, and you'll get a blank stare: It's tinto or blanco, imbécil. But for old-world charm—and prices—you've come to the right place. The signature zapatilla sandwich, a grilled cheese stuffed with smoked Galician ham and oozy tetilla, is an atomic bomb of a dish—drunk (or hangover) food at its finest." - Benjamin Kemper
