We drove a while until we saw on the GPS that our destination was around the corner. I was hungry. It was his idea to go further by the coast and climb mountains to get a better view before though. Loved the time with nature, but was also starved and depleted. Decorated like a home, this restaurant had succulents along the path of the entrance. You can tell it was a family restaurant, with the father who led us to a table. I could see the window and walls carrying little pieces of their history, aged by the frequent sunlight that shined through. A man sitting at the table diagonal from us had ordered something I’m unfamiliar with. He silently ate bit by bit as he looked up every so often. He seemed to quite liked it as his plate was completely clean before he left. I searched through the menu; sticky on some pages. And then I knew what I wanted. The son took our order. Moments after the food arrived, my stomach was full and my heart was happy. There’s something undeniably beautiful about the human connection that needs no introduction. Just a passionate cook, a hungry patron and a dish holding years of family tradition, a touch of love and plate full of deliciousness.