Dear Big Star,

Hey, guys. It’s Dabble. Do you remember us? We met one Friday night, it was a bit crowded and you made us wait a few minutes for a seat, but you were so charming and witty that we left our number on a napkin for you. (You never called, but that’s neither here nor there.) We love you, Big Star! Your sisters Avec, Blackbird and Violet Hour are pretty great, but you’re the brightest star in our sky.

Where else can we get whiskey that puts hair on our chest and tacos that transport us south of the border … at 3 in the morning, no less? It’s like we were made for each other, Big Star. We’ve both got that quirky, people’s hero thing going for us. You serenade with sweet, sweet country music and hey! We live in a country. It’s fate, you see.

And, well, it’s just … we feel like we have so much to learn from you, you know? Like, how do you do that thing you do where you fold a soft shelled taco that really sticks? And who in the hell’s genius idea was it to wrap your Sonoran Hot Dog in bacon!? We want to stay up late on a bear skinned rug and pick your brains, Big Star.

What do you say? Want to get together and see where this thing could go? Call us.

Forever yours,