A WEEK ago last Wednesday, two of us sat down at El Macho, the Mexican restaurant on Hope Street, and started our meal. Six days, one hour and 25 minutes and three tables later, we finished.

It wasn't the service - everything came quickly.

We weren't caught up in a hostage situation. I didn't forget my wallet and get forced into a sitcom scenario of washing dishes until my meal was paid for.

We had just ordered some seriously Macho portions, and weren't Macho enough to finish them.

Stuck in the dilemma that you can't review a restaurant without tasting its desserts, we had decided to come back and finish the job.

That the portions are big in El Macho probably won't surprise you. What might is the amount of time it has been in Hope Street.

The restaurant opened in 1985, when it must have been unbelievably exotic.

I can think of five places nearby that have been open for a matter of months, making it about 500 in restaurant years.

And it made me realise I hadn't paid enough visits to Liverpool's old restaurants (I never went to L'Alouette, and now it's closed.)

There's something very reassuring about an old restaurant.

Just like old men are allowed to brag about their life's many achievements, when your restaurant has been open 20 years you can do things like work the odd "our famous" into your menu.