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| - So Jesse didn't wanna go to DES for lunch today, which meant no catching up with my old friend tuna-peño sandwich. With much resentment, I offered recourse: "Pita Jungle's open I think."
Off we went, only to get there and see a line coming straight out the door and down the street. Nope. I'm not playing this game. Not today. After farting around for a few blocks we found ourselves parked in front of PASTA Bar. Walking down the hall between some "irish pub" and "Sens," we came to a Vespa, parked right outside our intended eatery. Wow, I thought, this place is 2 legit.
We walked in to a completely empty dining room (noon) and a woman behind a very nice bar, tidying up. That's what I'm talkin bout, says I. Plenty of room to stretch out. Along the walls were various maps of different regions of Italia (assumption), as well as paintings and avant photos of bicycles. On the back wall there is a HUGE mirror, which I at first mistook for another room. Upon grasping the reality of the sitch I became immediately terrified that we had walked into Poltergeist III, and I was about to get sucked into a world of shit. After five minutes of nothing happening, I began breathing easier and struck up the convo with Jesse.
We both ordered from the lunch menu; Jesse had the rigatoni, while I chose the sopresatta Panini. Both were scrumptious. The portions weren't the biggest, in fact I was worried my gullet wouldn't be properly sated, but said worrying was for naught. It was just big enough to soothe the rage over loss of tuna-peño. And the Panini even came garnished with a small roasted red pepper which was at once sweet and sweathead-inducing. I could not have asked for a better experience. Well, save for the end when a couple of suits came in and sat next to us.
But then I have quite a lot of distaste for grown ass men who wear sunglasses on their topheads.
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