Oooooohhhhh I just have to tell you where my tubby little hubby took me to eat recently. He took me to CASA D’ANGELO; can you imagine Wayne taking me someplace like that? And he ordered spaghetti? The messy little dear was really living on the edge that night. They won’t forget him, no sir, they won’t.
He is the only person I know that can slurp spasketti (his humorless little nickname for it) quicker and longer than anyone I know. When that strand comes off his plate it’s traveling about 90 miles an hour and when the end comes in sight it whips around his ear and snaps when it goes in his mouth. The snap on the end is what throws the sauce. We were asked to sit off from everyone else and against a wall. I think it’s easier to clean slurped spaghetti sauce off the wall than off the carpet.
I swear I’m going to go over to that place on Tielker Road that makes those handy dandy little emergency plastic ponchos and get about ten dozen. I wonder if they would print, “Stand Back Tubby Hubby Feeding” on them for me. People couldn’t say they weren’t warned when they got splashed.
Anyway, of all the delicious food he could have ordered, he ordered Spaghetti con Poipette because he thought it sounded like it was something else. It translates out to spaghetti with meatballs. The meatballs were about the size of small tennis balls. He tried to eat one whole but I had to reach into his mouth and pull it out when he found out it fit but didn’t leave any room to move his jaws. He couldn’t chew. I should have left it in there.
I ordered the Petto di Pollo al Palermo and it was delicious. The sauce was out of this world. It makes my mouth water just talking about it. It was a dish that Wayne should have ordered; he could have eaten it without being a hazard to everyone around him. Even the waiter wasn’t aware of Wayne’s goings on until it was too late. He would duck in between bites to fill our water glasses. I just know he had to change his shirt after we left.
Anyway we had a coupon to get one meal free with another of equal or greater value. Since one meal was free, we went ahead and spent what that meal would have cost by getting an order of Mozzarella Fritto and two orders of Insalata Italiana. Oh and they threw in a small loaf of bread with real butter, and it was on the house. It was so fresh and good. Wayne actually got the bread cut without putting a hole in the tablecloth like he did in another restaurant.
Now I just love to eat in Italian Restaurants and then tell everyone about it later. The Italian names for the dishes sound like we dined in absolute complete luxury. If I said we had spaghetti with meatballs, deep fried breaded sticks of mozzarella cheese served with a marinara dip, two tossed Romaine/Iceberg lettuce, tomato/green onion salads served with oil & vinegar, and a deep fried breaded chicken breast sautéed in a lemon/wine sauce with peas, fresh mushrooms, and topped with melted cheese, it would sound like I fixed it at home.
All in all, our bill came to a little over $20 with the tip. It was a night to remember. They played Italian music while we were there and it made me feel so romantic I couldn’t wait to get home and have a little glass of wine before bed time to help put Wayne in the mood for ‘amore’. That’s Italian for ‘love’ in case you didn’t know. I just love playing Italian. Wayne was Angelo Pepi that night.
Ahem, anyway, I give Casa D’Angelo 98 forks and spoons for their delicious food, romantic music, and nice clean atmosphere. I say forks and spoons because that is what you are supposed to eat spaghetti with, a knife and a fork. The waiter said you’re supposed to twirl it with your fork and wind it up in your spoon and then try to get it in your mouth. You’re not supposed to eat it by slurping like Wayne does. What the heck, Casa D’Angelo you can have another fork for what you put Wayne in the mood to do. I’ll beeeee baaaack, real soon! Till next time, Taa Taaa.