Gaga for Gigi’s.

It all started because I was in the neighborhood, cat-sitting Strudel. (She’s was sick of me already.) I had eaten all the Candy Corn Oreos by this point, brushed her within an inch of her life, and we were fresh out of “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo” episodes. We had a stare-off, broken only by me trying to take her picture. Strudel knows the best cat poses. She’d be a shoe-in on America’s Next Top Model: Cats!

Ervin knew of this Cuban place nearby Strudel’s apartment, which had awesome food. And cheap prices. Gigi’sWe ordered in Spanish (When I say “we”, I mean I piped in way late with a “No queso, por favor. Gracias!”), and then sat down amidst a regular Sunday crowd of old men, and families with adorable saucer-eyed kids.

They were big-eyes-ing my fries. But I am relentless when it comes to sharing fries. Also ice cream. And pens.

We chowed down on a Cuban burger and a plate of steak, plantains and yucca with garlic. And maybe a couple empanadas. Get out of Latin town. It was delicious.

Can I just say, I like anything that’s titled “Señorita (ingredients)”. Their bakery case is killer. I gained 50 lbs just looking at it…I’m sure we’ll be back. On the next Sunday afternoon we find ourselves in Westlake, Los Angeles, USA.



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