My most memorable super bowl sunday was going to a vietnamese place in LA's chinatown. The cook was a friend, and we brought friends. LA was oddly quiet. Almost serene. People were adjusting themselves to tvs.
Those were years when I wasn't following sports much. The cook wasn't there.
So we ordered stuff. Ate up, had good time talking.
As we were finishing, the cook (Frank, short for a vietnamese name) walked in the door with grocery bags to cook our meal. We had the brains to stay, thank goodness.
He made us a country meal - kidneys, for example. We all tried.
And served us his special tea in pot (remy martin cognac).
And that's only the half of it. What a day, and I don't even remember what year it was. I'll guess '87.