Food For Your Fanny
Lured by the call of pastabilities, the ferocious foodies
ventured toward the end of Maine Street expecting a gondola tour of some
Italian territory. However, the foodies found themselves in an environment
not quite Italian and not of their time. Shivering, they were quickly
seated in a nether region with chefly murmurings and stoneware clinking
in the background, and they thawed amidst the cozy booths as they studied
The foodies and their friend immersed themselves in the
detailed dish descriptions and found themselves gravitating thoughtlessly
to familiar choices. Over steaming garlic bread--possibly of Pillsbury
origin--marinated in a blend of butters, the foodies eagerly anticipated
the arrival of their meals.
Foodie one consumed a simple side salad that is available
with all entrees and the mélange included meat, cheese, and croutons
that livened up an otherwise standard iceberg base. Savoring a portobello
salad, Foodie two proved wiser than her colleague. Steeped in balsalmic
vinegar, the tender fungus lay delicately upon a succulent couch of spinach.
Pine nuts paraded softly atop the orgy of flavors. Foodie one gazed longingly
and quietly ate a carrot shred, while Foodie two attempted to conceal
Shortly thereafter, the foodies received their main meals.
Kerry became confused--she knew that she was in an Italian restaurant,
and she was aware that she was actually in the United States. However,
she did not realize that Maine is a member of the Confederacy, for her
"risotto" arrived as a colonial mash of patriotic grits. A southern
Grandmother would greatly approve of her nutritious choice, for no spices
would jar her stomach and no exotic flavors would tempt her wanderlust.
The grilled shrimp and vegetables laying limp atop the downy pillow proved
only slightly more satisfying. The foodie friend only gazed distraught
upon her veal-- baby cow just doesn't look as nice on plates as it does
on milk cartons.
Finally, the tables had turned. Foodie one looked enviously
upon foodie two's entree. Upon her sizzling platter lay a vegetable tapestry:
tender eggplant--an unappreciated amethyst orb-was paired with luscious
cheese and slippery baby produce. The dish was devoured guiltily and with
few sound effects, for Foodie one did not want to inspire the covetous
wrath of her dinner companions.
Desert was an egalitarian event. Foodie two and friend savored
tiramisu and mousse cake, while Foodie one selfishly hoarded her own portion
of latte and biscotti. The tiramisu was not Italian in origin, for the
sweet layers of whipped cream and sponge cake mocked the pretentious delicacy
of lady fingers and coffee. The mousse cake, smoother than the cellulite
free derrières of the foodies, soon would disrupt the harmony of
The foodies barely maneuvered themselves out of the restaurant
and would remember both the highlights and pitfalls of the inconsistent
yet oddly charming establishment; when dining here, the experience can
be one of several pastabilities.