Andrea and Julie were over for dinner on Monday night. It’s nice having friends live right around the corner. We picked up brisket and baby back ribs from Chicago Q. Andrea talked about her mom’s visit. Julie mentioned Fopa. Ettashowed her new jewelry. I played some weird sounds from wmbr over the Internet.
Another girl fainted at Xoco. She too came back in to eat dinner after some time in an ambulance. She had the cubana. I heard a story from the sommelier that was so dramatic I assumed it was urban legend until Chef Rick confirmed it to be a true story:
In the beginning years of Frontera Grill, about twenty years ago, a regular in his eighties claimed the food brought back memories of Costa Rica. He became gravely ill, and his last request of his daughter was to have tortilla soup at Frontera Grill. They reserved him a spot at the bar during lunch. Midway through the bowl of soup, the old gentleman toppled off his bar stool, dead. Rick and Deann paid all the guests tabs, and emptied the restaurant.