After the usual five-hour trek from the northern reaches of Atlanta, we arrived in Savannah yesterday evening at 8:30.
That damn trip would be a lot shorter were it not for the fact that we have to drive through Atlanta in rush-hour conditions. That can add an hour to the drive on a good day. Feh.
But once we arrived, we shook off the road grit and took The Mistress of Sarcasm and her main squeeze, Mickey, to dinner at Rancho Alegre, a hole-in-the wall Cuban restaurant on Posey Street hard by Abercorn.
We’ve eaten there a few times before, and in fact had the Mistress’s post-graduation celebration dinner there. That was quite the occasion, what with it being both a graduation, and my Daddy’s 80th birthday, and Rancho Alegre performed in grand style. Hole-in-the-wall it may be, but they serve some damn fine food there. Real home cooking, Cuban-style.
I had a tall, cool glass of passion-fruit juice and a dish of ropa vieja - shredded beef in a mellow Creole sauce. The name calls to mind “old clothes” - I guess because if you wear your pants long enough, they end up looking like shredded meat. Or maybe in Havana, they actually wear clothing made of meat - who knows? But it was delicious.
I always try to save those sweet nuggets of platanos maduros - fried, ripe plantain - for last, but I rarely succeed. They’re irresistible.
The Missus had herself chicken in a spicy tomato-based sauce, and the Younguns both ordered churrasco steaks, a pounded-flat cut of skirt steak marinated in chimichurri sauce. Nice, with lotsa garlic. I love lotsa garlic. Bam!
A couple of sweet Cuban coffees later, and we were off.
SWMBO and I headed back to our hotel for a night of sweet repose. We needed our rest, for Today is Moving Day!
(I frickin’ hate Moving Day.)