Eating and baseball, baseball and eating. Hell, yeah.
A friend of mine pointed out last night that people who love Mexican food sometimes act like it's their dirty little secret. Well, not me. I was at Rancho Chico in Plainville, Mass last night having a mariachi experience. Their food's SLIGHTLY gringo-ified but not in a Texas, dripping with cheese kind of way. It's so good. The waitstaff is exceptional.
Burrito Max is closed. That place in Kenmore Square. I found this out on A Red Sox Fan in Pinstripe Territory (a blog). I have never felt such despair. Like, oh, all of a sudden I'm supposed to go eat at that horrible Pizzeria Uno on the corner??? What happened? I don't get it. I just don't get it.
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