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| - Okay so Cibo's is really good, let's get that out of the way right up front. Their salads with pine nut goodness, their sandwiches with the bread that holds up no matter the insides, the iced tea. Oh good lord almighty that tea is great. So yeah, after two lunches at Cibo with Jesse, I am definitely sold on the joint. BUT that is not to say that Cibo is flawless. Let us proceed...
Jesse was having a crazy busy day, and I was bored. We decided to lunch early and headed over to Cibo, since Jesse had been craving it. We arrive in the neighborhood north of Van Buren where the quaint little sandwich/pizza house is located, and immediately I note the line of cars up and down one street, along with the line of tractors ripping up the intersecting one. There at the corner lies her beloved eatery, with many chin-up suits and aging re-debutantes making their way towards it from all directions. Jesse, sensing the parking challenge that was soon to present itself, slammed the brakes. "Go get us a table."
I'm out of the car like a greased-up salamander out of a Mexican Coke bottle. Scuttling across the street to get ahead of all the winners, I'm considering my seating preference. It's a little warm out, but all the shade trees in Cibo's courtyard would fix that right up. Then I remembered the close quarters the last time we sat outside, not to mention Jesse's disgust at being seated next to a table with *GASP* a child.
I didn't know what things were like inside, but it hardly mattered. My mind was made up, and when the hostess showed me to our window table in the small dining room near the bar, I realized it didn't matter at all. The whole place was close quarters, except now we were gonna be inside, which meant way better acoustics! Full tables all around. This place is way above the radar and has been for some time, so this was to be expected. What I didn't expect was the high-haired doughy woman in the electric lime muumuu sitting directly in my line of vision. She ultimately heightened my experience a great deal just by showing up, although I couldn't help wondering which tribal casino was calling all the hospitals, looking for their most loyal customer.
Jesse ended up ordering the caprese sandwich with added prosciutto (server was happy to oblige), and I had the BBQ pulled pork. Jesse's sandwich was pretty good. My sandwich was MAGNIFICENT. The spice was a pleasant surprise, and also gave me a bit of good old-fashioned sweat-face. I wasn't really feeling the couple of flies buzzing around us during our chewing time, but to be fair I didn't know who they belonged to, so I can't in good faith pin it completely on the establishment. Also, the server seemed to forget we were there a couple of times, which is always fun. But hey, I'm sure the Carries outside needed their lemon water refills real bad, having just played their freckle-tanned backs off in the breast cancer tennis match they just came from.
It may seem from my review that I didn't have the best time. This absolutely IS NOT the case. I don't think lunch at Cibo could have gone any better. The cramped eating space, outspoken clientele, somewhat negligent wait staff, all these should be, well, kind of expected when partaking of a place like Cibo. It's almost like dinner theater - get in, get settled and get ready for the show. And whenever possible, watch for muumuus.
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