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Tucked away behind the vegetable stalls on Wellington Street is a black door and a door bell. All you have to do is press the door bell, and you will be taken downstairs to a dimly-lit speakeasy for a bit of clandestine drinking and dining. A small cosy basement bar with leather seats, a few tables, and the sounds of jazz playing over the speakers, guests will feel like they have been taken back to Prohibition era New York.

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