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Last night’s opening of my own mother’s restaurant was nonpareil. Mama’s Cafe, named in memory of Dad, who, with a wink, a smile, and a bottle of bromide in hand, would ask us kids, “What’s cooking at mama’s cafe?” Dad never criticized Mom’s cooking, saying, “Children, the flavor is smothered in love, so eat with your mouth shut.”
Mama’s Cafe serves food that is indescribable. Sweet, savory, spicy, with an unexpected gastric texture. The cuisine encourages a diner’s taste for an aperitif of good seltzer – Alka-Seltzer? Maybe. But, for the taste of love, try Mama’s Cafe.
Karen FitzGerald is a genre-fluid writer whose work has appeared in e-zines and print anthologies. Her debut novel is in progress, and she expects it will grace the slush piles of the best publishers in the business before reaching the light of day. She is an undaunted, smiling, idiot savant.
I enjoyed reading this!
That was terribly sweet and it made my day. Loved this!