And finally, the tears begin to flow...

 "Kissinger, don't tell anyone that I cried, that I wasn't strong."

When the waiter placed my entree on the table _ Niman ranch pork chop with pomegranate currant sauce _ I felt a slight tickle tracing the right side of my face. It's trail was damp and narrow. I was crying.

The waiter was clearly too young to understand the pop culture reference racing through my head _ the commercial of the Indian crying at the sight of kids littering _ so I didn't even try to explain. I dabbed my cheekbone, composed myself and she walked away. 

This was the best pork chop I've ever had in my life. It was better than the habanero-drenched Mexican chuletas from Mexico City back in January 2000, better than both forays into Boulevard (http://www.boulevardrestaurant.com/menu.html) and its tremendous Berkshire pork prime rib chop. Even better was the chef's ability to maintain the moisture of the chop despite serving it above medium-rare (nothing spells death worse than chalky, bone-dry pork) temperature. Most delicious was the creative addition of the pomegranate currant sauce.

There is a new champion of the rib chop in town, and I had the tears to prove it...