When you really love a restaurant it’s kind of just as inexplicable as really loving a person. They’re nice, they’re witty, they love you… no one single big ol’ reason; you just love them. Black Cypress; love. Levys, Larkins, and Lopez; love. We can’t really sort out exactly why we like Black Cypress so much, why it’s more than worth the 15 minute drive across the state line, it just is. The food is good, and not like good for small town good, really dang good. And the space is intimate and just dark enough, there’s cool decor but not too much cool decor, the waitstaff is cool enough that you admire them but no so much that you fear them. They use amazing bacon from our friends’ pigs, they make dinner rolls that are better than you’d believe existed. I had braised pig trotters there last time; so good I almost cried. Ok, so, maybe I do know why I love Black Cypress. It is good. Good with no caveats, no sometimes. The same way that I love these people.
anna cotta 
It’s a totality thing, too…not a complete lack of imperfections and/or challenges, but the overall effect is grand. We went to a restaurant in Moab, UT, which billed itself as “Italian”…not spectacular food, but the graciousness of the waitstaff and the general good humour made it taste wonderful (and *that* waitress got the tip I refused to leave at Vail, or Aspen, or whereverthehell we were the day before–excellent sushi, zero love). The same goes for the people: not unflawed, but so damned fine in so many ways so much of the time.
Yes! Exactamente. General, all-round goodness. Miss you JJ!