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| - Perhaps some day, I'm going to bring my children to my alma mater, the U of I. I'm going to show them the buildings and where I lived and all the things that I experienced as an undergraduate here. And when my tour winds to a close, I will take them to the place that supplied me with countless nights of late night munchies. The place that gave me something delicious to believe in, a place that never disappointed me when I opened the box. Some day, I'm going to take my kids to DP Dough.
DP Dough itself is not really a restaurant - it is primarily for us cyber monkeys who do everything through the Internet, especially in ordering food. The restaurant itself has a small seating area that is almost always empty, and has exactly four seats.
Now to the important part - the food. Every calzone that comes out of this place is first placed at the altar of the calzone gods and given a proper blessing. Only then does it become fit for human consumption, at which point it has spontaneously morphed from an ordinary calzone into a holy image of the calzone gods themselves. The dough is baked to a perfect crisp, and all that is contained within the dough is molded from the sinews of something superhuman. These calzones have never disappointed me, and it makes me happy to know that they never will. And unless they take down their altar to the calzone gods, my children will not be disappointed either.
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