I was in the checkout line at Ralph’s on Carillo. A giggly party girl and her friends were buying four huge bottles of something alcoholic. Either the booze was pale yellow or the bottles were tinted that way. Didn’t see a label or sticker.
I asked the checkout guy, “What is that stuff?”
“Bocca,” he said.
“Bocca?” I repeated. I thought it might be some exotic liqueur. “Never heard of it.”
The girl and her pallies paid for the Bocca, the guy packed the bottles in ordinary paper bags, which struck me as insufficient given the size and weight of the bottles.