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remembering this one place in Santa Cruz;
the owner/cook/apparent only employee was this old Black dude, had really good hot links and collards and I forget what else, the walls were full of old photographs and kitsch, and the speakers played nothing but funk. It was like you'd opened a door in space time and walked into Detroit. And unfortunately the march of time did march of time things, so he retired and what took his place was this really generic Mexican place with NO funk whatsoever.
@Leucrotta I guess retiring is better than being forced out of business. That place sounds like it was cool as fuck.