It was Mothers Day. Schulte and Herr were booked despite our bright eyed start. Kicked to the curb by Germanic circumstance.
Local 188, one of the hot mamas in the party suggested.
One breakfast paella and a few ricotta fritters later, we were sated.
A simple thing once in a while, at home.
Like a day old Purple House sesame bagel, a fried egg, some good ham, a slice of cheddar, coffee.
No picture needed…
A favorite spot for years, under a variety of chefs and owners. Always small, always informed Italianesque, always good. Clean and nice.
She assented to a splash of Campari in my prosecco mimosa…