The first time I ate dinner at Coco, Maura Crawford’s ode to French standards like coq au vin, steak frites, and buckets of mussels with more fries and aioli, it was 2013. Seven plates, I decreed, griping about dim lighting and languid service tha…
The first time I ate dinner at Coco, Maura Crawford’s ode to French standards like coq au vin, steak frites, and buckets of mussels with more fries and aioli, it was 2013. Seven plates, I decreed, griping about dim lighting and languid service tha…
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