Friday morning, we opened our doors for the first World Cup game which started at 7 am. It was amazing to see the restaurant packed to standing room only, windows wide open, people even sitting outside and peering in.
Telmo was working his butt off, serving up the scrambled egg and…
If forced to choose, I’d pick hot bath water over therapy. The bath is where I catch up on my books and read my magazines. It’s where I learn things about why Obama and Wallstreet are warring and why espadrilles are back. And if I’m too burnt out to read,…
Enrique Jarmillo, one of our excellent bartenders (who makes a mean margarita, but also clearly has a way with the ladies who line up to order it specifically from him), grew up in Mexico in Guanajuato. He’ll be slinging the drinks tonight in celebration of Cinco de Mayo—which by the…
This is a really great article by Julia Moskin from today’s New York Times. It speaks to something that Joe and I have talked about so many times. I had this revelation when we were in Mexico City that Mexican food is as good as its salsa. Salsa says so…