|Stupid wop degos
||[Jul. 28th, 2006|10:46 am]
I have yet to find a Restaurant worth its salt in Northbeach. I keep trying but I've found nothing.|
It's such theater. They have people pretending to be Italians doing whatever they can to attractive customers. I hear their labored, fake Italian accents, their cheesy pitches, I've even seen staged drama of people getting in to arguments and flipping each other Italian signs. And who they try to pass off as Italian is pure comedy!
What pisses me off, they spend more time with this drama than serving. There is shittier services in North Beach than at the Onion Garden.
Apart from Molinari's, North Beach disappoints me. But, alas, I keep going. I keep trying to find something there. Like some crumb of Italy that's true and not packaged crap for consumers.
I did have one dish there I liked, but it was Gorgonzola Gnocchi. You can't fucking go wrong with a Gorgonzola cream sauce.
Speaking of, I just had the worlds stinkiest, nastiest, raunchiest, greenest, moldiest, funkiest, rottenest, awfullest Gorgonzola for breakfast.
How bad was it? When I entered Molinari's, I went straight to the cheese counter and got the most green marbled wedge they had.
How bad was it? I rode the train home with it in my backpack last night. When I sat down, everyone in a 5 foot radius recoiled. I look at them and said, "Sorry, if I smell like stinky cheese, it's because I have a pound of Gorgonzola in my pack." Uncomfortable giggles.
How bad was it? There was a knot off lush, green penicillin in it as big as a dime.
How bad was it? When I slid a pencil shaving thin morsel of it in my mouth, my stomach screamed, "Hey, you're eating mold!"
It looked at my hand. "Hey, yer eating mold!" My hand shrugged my shoulder and said it wasn't her problem (yes, my hands a her, get that through you head.)
My stomach looked at my teeth and yelled, "Hey, yer eating mold!" My teeth clicked, "Hey, I just do what the brain tells me."
Furious, the old gut turned to the nose, "Hey, yer eating mold!" My nose was high out of it's mind on magic fungus.
Stomach turned to the tongue, and said nothing, but cuz my tongue had been rolling around in a saliva and cheese gloop like a pig in a sty!
My stomach cried and turned to my brain, "Brain! Why have you forsaken me?" But the only reply from my brain was, "beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep" because it had gone flatline, killed, brutal, with the orgasmic funk of stinky cheese.
I <3 Gorgonzola!