In a town built on olive oil, Burro has sided with butter. Their signature creations are easy to mistake for sculptures: whipped into tall golden peaks, ready for thick slices of homemade sourdough and a spoonful of jam (the cafe’s specialty). The room is all vaulted ceilings, peeling plaster and blue-framed doors, with barely enough tables to go round. Come early, or make friends in the queue.




