Fast-forward two years. Leo’s restaurant, Piri Piri , was the darling of the emerging food scene in Chicago. His signature dish—peri-peri chicken, dry-rubbed, slow-grilled, served with a side of charred lemon—had lines around the block. The rub was his secret, measured in grams and kept in a locked tin under the pass.
She chewed. She swallowed. She looked at him with the same expression as the first night in Lisbon. peri peri dry rub recipe
He rubbed it onto chicken thighs, let them rest overnight, and grilled them over charcoal the next evening. Sofia took one bite, closed her eyes, and said nothing for a full minute. Then she smiled. “You almost got it,” she said. “Needs more lemon.” Fast-forward two years