Tiny, miniscule, microscopic Italian diner, and the kitchen's even smaller

I once met Emma Kirkby. She was lovely. In face I've met James Bowman now I think of it. And unless you're big on your classical music you're more likely to think I hang around with pasta dishes rather than real people. That's because one of Cardiff's most cherished Italians made the bizarre move of naming several of its recipes after stars of what Radio 3 will tell you is called 'the early music movement' (famously once defined by somebody who should have known better as the music you listen to before breakfast).

And such curiosities are the foundation of the Cafe Minuet ethos. Prepare yourself for a soundtrack of obscure Baroque opera hits from the perilously perched and ever-skipping CD player. Revel in the pleasure of releasing your plastic menu from its rubber band. And savour the smoothness of your tablecloth hued from purest vinyl. Doesn't sound appealing? Well, if you want fancy linen and Nigella cutlery you're in the wrong place, but I bet the music won't be half as good at the poncy establishment you end up at.

As for the food, there's something miraculous about the fact they produce anything at all given the size of the kitchen - possibly rivalling the magic tricks performed at La Vita just around the corner. Nothing fancy here, but simple staples of pasta, salads, and our choice of the famous Minuet 'slipper'. It's just a slab of pizza really, and once we'd managed to prise a fork from the waitress it went down very nicely. Salad dressing's a bit tricky though - you'll have to make it yourself from the oil and vinegar they bring. Come on though, they're only charging a fiver for it. They're bloody friendly too.

Presumably Emma and James visited once. Maybe they'll come again. Maybe I'll even get to eat an Emma Kirkby with Emma Kirkby one day. That would be really cool.