Guess where I'm eating?

I could tell you that the plate of enchiladas in today's "Guess where I'm eating?" snap were wolfed down by someone -- anyone -- other than me. I could tell you that Sheehan threatened to make me lick the title page of his book, Cooking Dirty, if I refused to lick my plate clean.

But those would be big, fat lies, and since I've only got nine lies (and I'm down to just one left), I'll cop to a confession, right here and now, in front of all you persnickety foodies: I love low-class, white-trash enchiladas, the kind that drip with grease and spurt Velveeta in between the gap in your teeth. I especially love these enchiladas -- a love I'm not remotely proud of, but since it's Friday and all and I'm in a good mood, I don't really care if you think I've lost my mind.

But I do care if you can pinpoint the exact location of where I'm eating.

We use cookies to collect and analyze information on site performance and usage, and to enhance and customize content and advertisements. By clicking 'X' or continuing to use the site, you agree to allow cookies to be placed. To find out more, visit our cookies policy and our privacy policy.


All-access pass to the top stories, events and offers around town.

  • Top Stories


All-access pass to top stories, events and offers around town.

Sign Up >

No Thanks!

Remind Me Later >