It ain’t over till the Focaccia Mama sings.

There are three more Mondays left in this cruel summer. For me, the only sanctuary from the smothering heat domes, hurricanes of bullshit, and rising waters of associated agita over the last three months has been the patio* at Frank and Mary’s Tavern .

For sure, I had some good times in my own bathtub , but this summer’s Monday Night Foodball schedule has been a particular blast. Not even a monsoon of biblical proportions on its fourth birthday could wash out the Reader ’s weekly chef pop-up at the venerable half-century-old dive bar.

So while the autumnal equinox approaches, there are arguably months of good weather ahead. If not, no worries. Foodball will abide in the womblike comfort of F&M’s barroom—and the lineup is set all the

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