I think I stopped giving grits a chance many years ago when Lucy became our family pet. She's an amazing bird, a Yellow Naped Amazon parrot that has an unbelievable vocabulary, an infectious laugh, can tell my identical twin brothers apart and eats grits every morning for breakfast. Sounds charming but think about being awakened by a bird with a loud, piercing voice calling my name every morning demanding her grits.
By golly, you better get them right or she gets mad and starts screaming. She likes her grits a bit runny, butter, salt and pepper with a sprinkling of cheese. They need to sit for a few minutes so they won't burn her beak because that really makes her mad. Get it right and she turns into this loving soul who will say in her lovely southern accent "Praise the Lord" and "You're a very pretty girl." Gee thanks.
A long time ago, I made the choice to remain single. I really did not want to deal with relationships and I was genuinely happy to take life’s journey on my own. Little did I know that the Universe had a completely different plan for me. I met my (now) husband on September 12, 2012 at a wine tasting in Beverly Hills. Fast forward a year, and he proposed on September 12, 2013. Keep going… we got married April 12, 2014. Why does this matter? Well, it leads me into this restaurant… Boragó.
After growing up in Western Massachusetts, it didn’t take me long to
become spoiled living in Los Angeles. Not only do we constantly have
fresh produce from around the world, but delicacies from every nation
are well-represented. Mexican food didn’t reach my hometown until I
was in college and even then it was either Chi-Chi’s or Taco Bell,
neither of which is very authentic or culinary genius. Regardless of
quality, the food was something completely new and I was immediately
hooked on guacamole, chips, salsa and greasy crispy tacos. Once I
landed here – and got a taste of the real thing – there was no
stopping my cravings for all things “South of the Border.“ L.A. is the
crossroads of the world when it comes to food and I never realized how
lucky I was to live here until I went to Europe for a month.
Last week I endured the two most dreaded days of my life each year for
the past 20 years. FAA mandated 'stewardess training,' formally known
as "CQ." Stands for 'Continuing Qualification.' Ladies and Gentlemen,
this has nothing to do with serving you drinks and meals, listening to
all of your problems, helping you stow your 100 pound compact
suitcases, with an everlasting smile on my face. 
Most everyone knows that in the UK an elevator is called a lift and an apartment is a flat, but beyond a few dozen words, we like to think that we speak the same language as our friends across the pond. Ha!