No Shirt, No Service

Want to go tapas?

One night as I was finishing the cordero asado, which is roast lamb marinated with sun-dried tomatoes, a man asked me to dance. He thrust his left thigh between both of mine, and shoved my right leg into a ballet turnout.

"What are you doing?" I cried with some alarm.

"Cumbia," he grinned.

Rose Johnson

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In between hot cumbias, you can pop a few of Pepin's energizing croquettes before heading back to a dance floor that throbs until 1 a.m.

Just keep your shirt on. It's a tapas bar.

Merilyn Jackson doesn't frequent "gentlemen's clubs," but she has danced at a tapas joint.

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