I can’t stand Italian and American food. For years, my friends and family have tolerated my bizarre eating habits and strange demands. If it’s not spicy, what’s the point? My pallet belongs to the four corners of the world and the deep fried delicacies offered at American restaurants simply don’t entice me. Some of my relationships (romantic or otherwise) have ended prematurely because I would lose my shit during dinner…
Really? You’re going to order a steak at a sushi place?
…but now, my pallet is craving something different: BBQ.
Gasp. Shocker! DIOS! I KNOW!!! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT EITHER.
I’m going to blame my Dad. He was born and raised in San Antonio, Texas (reppin’ the dirty south), but now he lives in Los Angeles, California with my Mom. Normally, the Californian in me dominates; running around barefoot with an organic coconut-milk green tea latte is one of my favorite hobbies. But every so often, I like to play with guns, associate with conservatives, or stuff my face with some Texas BBQ because that’s what ALL Texans do. FACT: this is not a generalization. You’re assuming that all generalizations are false. Judgmental. Much.
So behold! I bring you Home Plate’s Texas BBQ and Grill.
This is my new buddy Seth. He owns the joint and is a stand up guy. Bravo Seth!! You’re living the dream. You are an American making it in Beijing.