The greatest soup ever created
Stingray digs a soup. So she keeps her ear to the ground. She had heard tell of a peerless crab soup, the du jour at Café Josie, a 6th Street refuge for piquant nouvelle Caribbean.
“They say,” confided la Stingré over a double Americano at Cippoline, “that the chef was as a man possessed. He magically pulled this amazing soup out of his butt. It far exceeds even the best of his previous souply efforts. If what they say is true, I predict it will become the stuff of legend.”
She paused. Her visage took on a reverent expression. “They say he used caraway.”
Stingray has a high opinion of caraway.
While delivering this speech, her swift fingers flew over her cell phone keypad. The reservation was secured. Our fate was sealed. To 6th Street we did hie forthwith.
The crab soup lived up to the hype.
I present photographic evidence of the best dinner I’ve had in months.
The remains of half a dozen fried artichoke hearts, which were such sterling examples of the species I forgot to photograph’em until there was only one left
Grilled queso with fluffy guacamole
Crispy spring halibut with sesame rice and about 13,587 different sauces and garnishes, each more effervescent than the last
Stingré, now completely recovered from the Hippie Lentil Incident, registers souply contentment