My grandfather’s name is Domingo, which means ‘Sunday’ in Spanish. I don’t know how he got that name, but his parents were hard-working farmers so I like to think they named him after the only day in the week in which they got to rest. He is ninety years old; or so I’ve been told. … Continue reading Thinking of my grandfather. →

So, one of my favorite restaurants is being ruined by an old lady with cancer… I should probably give some context. You see, I love eating at small, local, family-owned stores. And that’s because if I were to get food-poisoning, it’s waaaayyyyy easier to win the law-suit. Turns out, Bob and Karen can’t really afford … Continue reading Sunday Breakfast at Momma’s →