As Woodstock is my new favorite English town, our possibly one and only meal here had to be special. After consulting with Google and our front desk’s staff, an oddly-named Italian restaurant less than a minute’s walk away won out easily. It was as easy as pie to get there, get a spacious table, and get quickly served by an efficient, elderly Italian gentleman who was clearly a man of action and few words. The terrine, risotto, and lasagna were all gone in no time.
The food was so good Teko even left a tip, which means he really, really liked it – or perhaps he was still on a mental high from seeing our hotel room. Either way, the sun was still shining after we finished our meal, fortified for the serious business of tourist ahead. There was one place nearby we definitely couldn’t pass up.