More than a geographical spot, Latin America is where we grew up, it’s our childhood and a cluster of memories. There are many versions of it, many “recuerdos”. The way we remember it may not exist now, it may not have existed ever, but it remains beautiful in our mind, a perfect memory, waiting to be shared.

To bring us back, this past Monday we invited artists to collaborate on a special night at Comodo we called “Recordatorios”.

Alexis Mercedes serenaded us with boleros, a type of romantic classic Latin American described as “weeping of the heart”….

Johanna Mendez showcased one of her memory map art pieces, memories that marked her while living in Bogota…

Felipe and Carolina will created Latin American nostalgic driven bites. Duck and veggie empanadas, “papitas preparadas” and brigadeiros.

It was a magical night, romantic, nostalgic.

We hope you join us for our next Comodo Roots event, we will keep you posted on dates!

For more pictures of the night:

http://tinyurl.com/bqqgtkv

http://tinyurl.com/ck5j5ga

Opening your own business is like a right of passage; it’s about creation, about giving birth and then watching something grow. The beginning is the most intense, living every step vividly.Uncertainty is at its highest, adrenaline rushes through your body from the moment you wake. When others around you are experiencing this same right of passage, it’s impossible not to feel an emotional connection, to feel empathy, to feel respect and admiration.

A young Brazilian woman brought us this feeling when she stumbled upon our door this fall. Enter Mariana of Brigadeiro Bakery. Mariana is the lover, maker and number one promoter of Brigadeiros: Brazilian chocolate truffles that are fun, delicious, and highly addictive.

These precious chocolate balls first debuted at Brazilian kid parties and were quickly high jacked by parents. Much like Felipe and myself, Mariana had outgrown her one bedroom apartment operation. The production and passion for her small company needed a new home.

Felipe and I felt her story, having just walked in her shoes. As friends we wanted to help promote her business, but we had too many resources to simply make a few phone calls.We convinced Mariana to use our downstairs kitchen during off-peak hours instead of paying for an expensive commercial kitchen. In lieu of rent, Mariana offered her Brigarderos for our guests to enjoy at the end of their meal.

And so the partnership began. We have been hiding someone in our basement and she is coming upstairs!

Brigadeiro Bakery, a small company producing the best Brazilian chocolates, growing literally out of our basement. We can’t wait to see what’s next for this small chocolate giant.

If during your next visit to Comodo you smell chocolate, that means Mariana is downstairs and she would love to say hello.

http://www.brigadeirobakery.com/

We are happy to have survived in New York, we know who the greats are. McNally, Meyer, Nieporent. In fact, #comodoroots was partially a nod to a classic Danny Meyer research trip to France.

Blackberry Farm doesn’t advertise. Which I respect. For the same reason we don’t have a PR agent. If you cook it, they will come. But, that still doesn’t negate the fact that most people outside of Tennessee (other than extreme foodies) don’t know about this place.

Inside this camp for the affluent, past the trout filled ponds, lies the Holy Grail, the Barn at Blackberry Farm. I don’t get nervous when I walk into Daniel or Le Bernadin. They are to be respected, like a young man respects his parent’s friends, but respect is different than admiration.

I admire the Barn. The Barn makes me feel small. Not in a negative way. In a way that says “Keep Going Kid”. The Barn uses food from its Garden: been done before. The Barn will soon use truffles that have planted and will be dug up by its own Truffle Hunting Dogs that they breed. Innovation using puppies: unfair.

There is no return on investment on a Truffle Dog. It is not cheaper for them to have a full time truffle dog trainer then to buy truffles wholesale, but they do. There is little finical upside for #comodoroots, twelve person dinner parties do not make money, but we do it for the same reason Tamy & Felipe invited strangers to their house: because we love it.

Eric Clapton knew where he stood in 1966, he wasn’t the Beatles but was well on his way to leading Cream to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. We have a tiny restaurant with great spirit and a very transparent way of doing business. But five miles from nowhere in East Tennessee, stands a red barn that humbles a young man.

Mac Osborne
Home … New York City
2.15.13

Bogota doesn’t know she is beautiful.
It’s actually kind of annoying.
Bogota, like most girls I know, had an awkward time in the 90’s.
But we arrived to find a city ready to go to prom

Scene #1: Coffee Culture
Bogota rests next to the mountains of the best coffee farms in the world.
A man looking for a small coffee shop will be disappointed to find instead Dunkin Donuts brewing coffee from Nicargua.

Scene #2: Restaurant Culture
Chains upon chains in each neighborhood offered New York style logos and international fare that clearly show signs of Bogota’s awkward teenage years.
They have yet to understand the simple beauty of authenticity.

Scene #3: Where’s the Hooch?
Sandwiched between the home of the best Tequila and Mezcal to the north and Pisco to the south, Colombia has settled on Aguardiente, a liquid that should be used as gasoline.

With its excess of cows & coffee, surely a coffee based liquor must exist? “No”, Bogota explains, “And don’t call me Shirley”.

Scene #4:
The Quarterback shows interest in the quiet girl
An hour outside of the city lays Andres Carne de Res: a Tim Burton movie set with Johnny Depp servers. A kingdom of steak, tequila, and Cartiginean women with a soundtrack of equal parts Katy Perry & Flamenco.
The Quarterback tells his friends.

Scene #5
Tomas Rueda cooks just like Felipe: no bullshit. Tomas, when asked why he doesn’t have a website, “Too much me me me out there”. In a town known for amazing bread, he bakes his own. Why? Because he wants to, that’s why. Pan de Nothing: simple soft bread, and the best I have ever had. Tabula & Domonista … girl gets guy!

Closing Credits:
Executive Producer: William Osborne
Director: Carolina Santos Neves
Bogota Liason: Wendy Sewards

Bogota. What was I expecting? Certainly nice people. That’s part of the reason Colombia made it on the list of places I wanted to visit during this 30 day trip. That, and because Felipe is from there and I don’t really know Colombian food all that much. And so I went into this portion of the journey with a long list of recommendations, but that’s about it. All I knew is that no matter what, we couldn’t leave Bogota without going to Andres Carne de Res. I’ll tell you more about that later. I didn’t know what to expect. But I guess in life even when you think you know what a place will be like, you don’t. You just go and see what happens.

Day one in Bogota started pretty late in the afternoon. We arrived at Maria Teresa’s place AKA Felipe’s incredible aunt. Is there anyone in your family that isn’t a sweetheart btw? Didn’t think so. She welcomed us into her home with a warm bowl(s) of Ajiaco and toasty Pan de Yuca. It was the ideal meal given I was still recovering from my beer filled day spent at the Cantina in Mexico. Her version is different from that of Comodo’s in that it was less pureed and the pieces of potato were more visible, but also tasty. That night we got a car tour of Uzaben and all the restaurants that made up this area which we would get to frequent later on in the week. She told us about how popular Peruvian restaurants were in Bogota. Meanwhile I told her how I find that New York is missing out for not having more Peruvian, and Colombian food.

To continue on the trend of a morning beginning with mango and papaya, that’s what I did for the next six days straight. What more could I ask for? oh, Colombian coffee. #boom. The light breakfasts prepared me just enough to confront some pretty hearty meals that lay ahead. That afternoon my college friend Wendy/Wencha whom I hadn’t seen in ten years picked us up to take us to Donostia, the restaurant which came to be our favorite of the whole trip. The sunset-yellow paint that covered the outside walls and the font of the restaurants name already had me liking it. We walked in, and we greeted Tomas, the chef who had opened the place ten years prior. Super charming. Totally open kitchen, a list of small dishes chalk-written on the board above and a menu for those who wished to eat more. Eventually a guy with longish brown hair and a funny walk came over to greet us again and sit us down. I loved him already. We ordered a round of fresh juices (real fresh juicies not the “fresh” juices that come out of a bottle), followed by Lamb meatballs in tomato sauce, trout ceviche over green pea puree, a crab salad, large langostines with chickpeas (which are actually pretty large shrimp). He sent over roasted potatoes topped with house-cured trout. Before the food was set on our table,we tried the fresh soft bread which Mac declared to be the best he’d ever had in his life. The small plates weren’t so small, yet we managed to polish everything off. It was all so fresh and as Mac put it, Thomas has a talent for sauces, and I agree. Tomas has studied in Spain, so there was this Tapas influence, but unlike Tapas we all felt well fed. Tomas brought us dessert which was Crema Catalan meets Creme Brulee, probably two of my least favorite desserts. Of course I decided in my mind that I’d take a bite to be polite, but knew, just KNEW that I would stop there. Nope. I was wrong. Goes to show, always be open to trying everything. Pretty sure Mac and I fought over who would get the last spoonful, and pretty sure we both considered picking up the plate and licking it.. Right after finishing dessert we headed to Tabula, Thomas’ other restaurant which he opened three years after Donostia. Clearly a passionate chef and person, he went on to tell me how this was a place designed to be a nest that brings people together where all plates are shared. He said, restaurants are about the people who frequent the place and said that he disagreed with the statement that Molecular gastronomy is the only way to eat. What else made this place special? All the food was made in a wood burning oven. #idlikeoneofthoseplease.

We were full, but so happy, and ready to walk for a while. And so we did, Wendy showed us the Candelaria, we went to the Botero musuem, and eventually landed at the Museo D’oro. I was still full. Eventually we found our way over to Seis Manos, a French/Colombian restaurant that shows indie movies on Wednesday nights. On this particular night they showed 7 Nights in Havana, which was nice in theory, but not so nice in reality. Our night ended at Maria Teresa’s, with conversation over mangoes. What more could we ask for? Aww the simple things in life.

The next morning we went to Paloquemao. What a great name. This would be the equivalent of the San Jan and Medellin market in Mexico. Tomas had told me about this market, and Maria Teresa raved about it as well. One section is completely dedicated to flowers. It was an array of colors I had never seen before. If I actually knew any of their names I could probably list over 30 varieties. Some of which were familiar I didn’t even realize came in other colors, like the orange callalillies we got for Maria Teresa. We then went into the fruit and veggie market, where I got glimpses of my mangoes and papayas. But first, Maria Teresa insisted we try these freshly baked Almojabanas. She ordered three, we told her we could split one between the two of us, and she looked at us like we were delusional. I told myself that I would only have half. Yep, only half, which in my book meant the whole thing. It was like the sweet version of a pao de queijo. My experience that morning changed how I viewed breakfast croissants. I had possibly met it’s match. This was like the Latin American version, but cheesy. After this moment of ecstacy we continued on in. I saw fruits I had never seen before. But I thought that having been to Thailand, Brazil and Mexico I knew every fruit there was to know, only to find out that there are 300,000 types of fruits and veggies in Colombia. This vision was essentially my heaven. We headed out and headed home where we were eventually going to meet Wendy for coffee and shopping. One thing we came to realize was how in Bogota ( I can only refer to this city), the coffee culture is not what you would expect given how much colombia is known for it’s coffee. It’s got a few chains, but I wouldn’t say that it’s to the level of New York or Portland. That night we would have dinner with a relatives of Felipe’s at Horatio Barbato. Dinner was delicious, but I loved the the company so much more. We talked about what places we should go to before leaving Bogota, we talked about art, and about Comodo.

On friday I awoke and headed to Pacific Fish Market to buy scallops for the lunch that Maria Teresa and I would be cooking together, and to see what options would be for our #comodoroots dinner on Sunday night. Our afternoon was spent eating at Tabula. Dishes varied from Osso Buco, to a grilled vegetable salad, to a simply prepared piece of fish, to pasta, to a marinated yuca which I couldn’t get enough of. Checking out Montserrat along with a few others was incredible. The view of the city from this high up was infinite. Looked like a painting for sure. We hung out with the locals up there and had tinto (coffee) and little bites, while some drank arguadente, a liquor that taste alot like sambuca. I refrained. As the day turned into night we headed over to Alejandro’s place and checked out his very politcally charged works of art. We’re talking a life size Hugo Chavez oil painting, and a mural of old Bogota. He is incredibly talented. I was in awe.

Even though I wasn’t hungry for dinner I committed to having dinner with two guys I had been put in touch with at Casa, one of the restaurants that I was told I had to try. We sat outside and chatted about all that Colombia as a country had to offer. We also talked about coffee culture in Bogota and how, even though people take coffee seriously, it’s not like coffee culture in say New York or Portland. I headed home early given the next day I would be cooking with Maria Teresa and going to Andres.

Maria Teresa and I ended up making scallops with a pistachio pesto, quinoa, roasted squash with leeks and pan roasted asparagus. Probably the healthiest meal I’d had in a long time. We rested up for our Andres night and headed on over around 8pm with Camilo, someone I had met the night before. Andres. I didn’t know what to expect. I don’t think Mac did either. We arrived and the place was huge and lit up. Like a big one story house that seemed to take up the whole town. People of all ages, shots being offered as we waited in line. We headed towards our high table and observed as people walked by. Trinkets everywhere that came together because of 30 years of collecting. The energy was contagious. The music was wonderfully provoking, and the menu, 60 pages. The night began with us eating patacones with cheese, lomo that had been cooked in a rag, and little pieces of fresh coconut. Some of us took in alot of tequila shots, but I won’t mention any names. Before we knew it, it was 3am. The night went on till 5am (as you guys know) due to our facetime session. That was fun.

Our last night in Bogota was our dinner at Wendy’s place. Beaaautiful space with amazing flowers everywhere and sweeties that helped me in the kitchen. Dinner was esquites, spinach salad with puffed quinoa, cashews, dried mangoes and a dressing that somehow had an Asian flare. I loved it. Dinner was Cherna with a uchuba, cilantro and leek sauce, brown rice the way every rice should be made…with onions, and a very popular fava bean puree. Dessert was roasted coconut cake once again. Wendy was the most generous host. She got so excited that she also bought more wine, cheese and little bites. It was her friends, one of them a chef, and some new friends I’d made during my time in Bogota.

The next day we headed to Miami. Bogota was lovely. The Colombians incredible. I left wanting to try more Colombian food. I left wanting to go to Santa Marta and Cartagena. I left, but knowing that I would return someday and have a completely different experience. Something to look forward to.

Miss you guys,
Carolina

I can’t remember the last time my heart actually ached after leaving a
city. That’s how I feel after having left DF. I’m Bogota bound now,
but I am already thinking about when I’ll get to return to the city
where I lived many moons ago.

So lets see. What have I yet to talk about! We did two dinners in DF,
and I extended my trip by a few days just because it seemed like the
right move. There is no doubt that it was.

We didn’t end up going to Pujol after our delicious dinner at Jaso
because we A. we were still full from the night before and B. Because
later that night we would be doing a dinner for the Donnellys and
their friends. I was slightly nervous, which if you know me, is rare.

What was for dinner? I knew I wanted to make fish, but that would
depend on what the market would offer. We decided on the starter of a
new and imporved esquites. This time we’d mix it up with sautéed
shrimp served on freshly baked bread. (Mac’s idea). Bread in Latin
countries is a whole other ball game. (Movie Flashback). As a child
whenever our mother took us to the market the bread loaf would be half
eaten by the check out counter.

We started with the Brussel Sprouts salad, a usual suspect that at
this point I might never be able to eat again. Having found an amazing
piece of salmon at the market I improvised with a new preparation.
Lemon zest, lebanese olive oil and toasted pistachios. Having seen
amazing fava beans at different markets, I knew that I wanted to make
a purree. In addition, I really wanted to do something with the
huitlacoche (the fungus that grows on corn husks) I had found a few
days prior and so I mixed with wild rice. Felipe mentioned that the
flavor might get drowned out, and he was absolutely right, but a good
effort nonetheless. For dessert, we decided on coconut cake. This was
almost like a big giant Macaroon, over a cinnamon infused crema. We’ve
made it at Comodo before, but it’s not caught on even though every
time someone tries it, they just want more. #mustbeputonmenuasap

The night was magical. Margarita & John, Felipe’s incredibly beautiful
parents (inside and out), were the perfect hosts. It’s obvious where
he gets his warm and welcoming nature. The music, the smell, the
lighting, and the timing all came together as it should. It helped
that Gloria and Felipa were there to help me plate. Gracias!

Thursday night was the #comodoroots dinner in Roma, at Blair & Jorge’s
townhouse. We had yet to meet them, we had yet to see the space, yet I
was certain it would all work out. Thank you Zoe for putting us in
touch, if only you could have been there.

Mac and I arrived at their home around 3pm only after going to an
artisanal feira looking for Tortilleras and glassware for Comodo. No
such luck. Blair welcomed us into her hidden gem amidst the busy
streets of the quaint neighborhood. It was an oasis. We’re talking
high ceilings, a book shelf to match the height, an incredibly
spacious and clearly well equipped kitchen which opened up to a
veranda. A spiraling staircase brought you to a roof with a
mesmerizing view. Not to mention a swinging chair just waiting to be
sat in. Had we really found such a place, or had it found us? We felt
incredibly lucky. Blair couldn’t have been sweeter, helpful, excited,
and talented. Large prints of her work filled the walls giving the
space that much more authenticity. Not to mention the cello that stood
on the corner of the living room. #Wishistillplayedthatinstrument.

She presented me with a map and told me about Medein, a nearby market
where I’d find everything I needed. She also told me about the
hole-in-the-wall bakery I’d come across on my way there. Unlike our
previous dinners, I’ll admit, I had no idea what I’d be making that
night. NO IDEA. I’d say this was like Iron Chef, or Top Chef or one of
those shows, but I wasn’t competing against anyone. I took the stroll
down la calle Tonala, and shockingly did not get lost. The farmer’s
markets in the U.S. are awesome, local, and fun. But there is just
something you encounter when you’re going down this maze of colorful
aisles in markets of Latin American.

I found robalo, fresh hominy, hazelnuts, tamarindo, perfectly ripe
avocados, a huge head of cauliflower, and string beans. I knew
something was going to be prepared, I just didn’t know what yet. Most
of the vendors were so sweet. I felt like I was at home, like I had
shopped there before. I decided I’d make the same coconut cake as the
night before, because I knew that it was a sure thing. Mac was off
buying ingredients for the Sangria, and the oven-roasted pineapple
infused Mezcal. #Boom.

We assumed that people would begin arriving around 8:30, standard for
Mexico City. And that’s exactly what happened. As people arrived they
were greeted with avocado mash on toasted peanut bread. Per usual
people gathered in the kitchen and eventually climbed the spiraling
staircase to the rooftop. The invitees were a mix of the hosts
friends, my friends, and friends of friends. A beautiful mix of expats
and natives filled the rooftop.

For whatever reason, this evening moved along beautifully. Time was
lost. It reminded me of the Worth Kitchen dinner when Felipe announced
he was to open a restaurant. I arrived 15 minutes late only to find
that Felipe had not begun cooking. Two hours later, after long
discussions, exchanges of thoughts and ideas, we were presented with
our entree. School night be damned, we were all caught in the moment
and even though we were tempted by the smells of the kitchen, we
weren’t checking our watches or phones.

Flashback over, back to this dinner. The lingering casualness created
the best mood. Nearing the midnight hour, we served the main course of
roasted robalo with a tamarind-leek-hazelnut sauce, hominy puree,
topped with roasted baby zucchini. Once everyone was served Mac and I
joined the party. I sat next to quite the British lad, with an
expected excellent sense of humor and an unexpected mastering of the
Spanish language. I was living in that moment, and nowhere else.

Once again dessert was well received. Felipe & Tamy, again, this cake
has to get on the dinner menu. #Done&done.

The night ended a little past three after we washed dishes, and
chatted with Blair & Jorge, a long, lovely night with our hosts.
THANNNNKKKK YOUUUU!

I was so happy to have extended my trip and stay the weekend. I once
again met up with Will and Isis and they took me to their favorite
local spot in Roma, Belmondo, a sandwich joint they frequent several
times a week. I thought about ordering the Shortrib sandwich they had
raved about, but decided on the Chicken Curry Salad, which might be
the best one I’ve ever had. Just when I thought I was never going to
eat dessert during the rest of my Mexico stay I was seduced by a piece
of carrot cake that just stared at me. What could I do, but help make
it disappear? Love you carrot cake.

The day before I left may have been one of my favorite days in Mexico.
We woke up and headed to a local bakery where the smell of butter
lured anyone within a 2 block radius. You know what I’m talking about.
We sat at the counter and ordered coffees, freshly baked butter
breads, and granola with fruit and yogurt (how healthy of us). The
place looked alot like what Le Pain Quotidien wishes it was. The first
bite of the bread was the best, and the rest was smeared with one of
three housemade jams; Rhubarb, Berry, and a not very memorable one. I
can’t remember the last time I had a croissant. It might have to
become my weekly splurge.

Our next stop was the Feira de Sabado where I went looking for the
Tortillerias for Comodo. I looked everywhere, but didn’t find the ones
we wanted, but I did find some amazing coffee cups, and little pots.
In the middle of the market there was outdoor seating for a killer
looking brunch with freshly made aguas (Jamaica, Tamarindo & Horchata)
that I’ll be thinking about until I return.

Next was a trip to my childhood home in the DF. Fifteen years ago
when I was a different person, in a different place, and a place that
I never thought I’d return. It brought back so many memories, and so
many smiles. It made me laugh at myself for viewing my youthful time
in Mexico as a negative experience.

The rest of the afternoon was one of leisure. (I know, it’s been
pretty leisurely). A group of us gathered in the centro and explored
the well revered public library which looked like it could have been a
museum of modern art. Countless floors of book shelves could be seen
from the ground floor in an incredibly transparent way. It was
awesome. We walked through a goth-like fera and stood out, but no one
noticed. Eventually we ended up at Cantina de Paris, which would
become our home away from home for the afternoon. No, the food was
not french.

For those who do know me, know that rarely a beer drinker. The last
time I had a beer was probably at a baseball game circa 2005. Just
always prefer drinking something else. I’d say I’m someone who goes
with the flow, but I have my likes and dislikes. On this specific
Saturday I decided to just go with it and quench my thirst with a
“clara” with the rest of the crew. I added lime juice to each one. And
that’s what we did. We dranks beers, and ate “free” food like a salty
skinny beef filet with refried beans, and a short rib dish in a
tomatoey sauce. We chatted, we selected music from the Juke Box, we
laughed and enjoyed a lazy afternoon. These afternoons are perfect for
solidifying casual old relationships. Fifteen years later, in a small
cantina driking clara’s in a neighboordhood of Mexico, I would really
get to know an old friend from a small boarding school in New England.
I know that we’ll be friends for a long time. We did this for six
hours, and enjoyed every moment. Eventually we made it to their
friends party, only to end up at Will & Isis’ favorite late night (or
day time) joint for some tacos al pastor and thinly sliced pineapple.

For me, as a New Yorker, or as a person who loves to be involved in so
many things at once, I’m learning the pleasures of just being in the
moment, and not thinking about what’s next. Truly relaxing, I guess.
It only took me 30 something years to get here, and I hope that’s
where I stay. If I could bottle this feeling, and bring it back to New
York I think this trip will have paid for itself. Just enjoying an
afternoon without friends, without a phone, that is what life is all
about.

Mexico, and all those involved, thank you for teaching me that.

Much love,

Carolina

Each city fights for something.
Dallas has amazing infrastructure but fights for culture.
Mexico City has amazing culture but fights for infrastructure.
Austin has amazing culture, amazing infrastructure, but fights its
increasing mainstream popularity.

Surprisingly, every city has had similar demand for our show. Those
fighting for culture are starving for a pop up dinner. Those who are
surrounded by culture consider us “second helpings”. Everybody is
hungry for the basics of a dinner party.

Carolina and I make it a point to sit for dessert, even at our busiest
dinners. It is at these tables, after a few glasses of wine, that
people fight for their cities.

“Mexico City isn’t dangerous as long as you don’t wear a watch, don’t
wear any jewelry, and don’t look anyone in the eye.”
“Dallas finally has a park, we built it on top of the highway downtown.”

Defending their city with love, one ludicrous statement at a time.

New York City, is far from perfect. It’s in your face, occasionally
rude, and hardly comfortable.

But I too, am a fighter. My love for New York is among the reasons I
helped Felipe & Tamy start Comodo. I could bring visiting friends to
our inviting restaurant, masking the rudeness outside.

We have five more cities to meet, and all the fighters that are
standing behind them.

Mac Osborne
Thirty Five Thousand Feet Above the Gulf of Mexico

I am my mother’s son, and I think the Fodders CEO sends us a Christmas
card each year. She knew more about the places we visited than some of
the residents.

So I plan, I google things late at night and I read about crazy
custodians of bars in Big Bend National Park that offer free therapy.
(Turns out he was just the village drunk)

My planning found us an amazing studio in Alpine, owned by an equally
amazing couple. But my planning also brought us to a bar with smelly
drunks for lunch.

So what’s the secret, do you improvise everything and risk finding No
Vacancy signs everywhere, settling for a Ramada Inn, where inspiration
goes to die? Or do you act like Clark Griswold and plan everything?

What I have learned is sometimes the best stories in life are wrong
turns. Sometimes the gates to Wallys World are closed.

Mac Osborne
Somewhere in West Texas
1.20.13