Yesterday Blog: 8TH STREET LATINAS must've looked a sight as I went through the lobby of the apartment building. I was packing a banjo in a loose sack, my guitar and a box full of pizza fixings. Somehow I managed to make it up to the 16th floor, and rang the buzzer.
Bea opened the door, and escorted me in. She was wearing a full length sari. Sean was also there, helping out with the preparations. I had deliberately arrived a bit early so I could attend to some of the sous-chefing work. I roasted some pine-nuts, sauteed the mushrooms, and rolled out two of the pizza dough balls into a pan.
