You’re shuffled in by 3 different waiters yelling at each other only to be told that it’s 10 minutes for a table inside, but that they can squeeze you in outside now. Finally it’s warm enough to do so, and you’re ushered to a red, green, and yellow checked table that is a deuce (a 2 top in restaurant lingo) but only a millimeter away from the tones surrounding you. You sit at one and they don’t like it and move you to another once you’ve gotten comfortable. The menu is slapped down on the table, containing the normal quino quarto (spelling?) food. Drink the house wine. Today is Thursday so you order gnocchi and bruschetta to start, which you order from one waiter. And you get the food from a different one, who is smoking as he brings you your antipasti. The other waiters are eating a bowl of pasta right out at their station in plain view. She’s sitting down by the dishwasher room and asks for your dessert order; responding with a no, was the wrong order. She sits down next to you to take the order of the customers to your left. Another guy (leaning against your chair) shouts “scusa, did you take their order?” teasing that he didn’t get the chance to take it. The guest says yes we got… only to be cut off by the waiter saying no, I wasn’t talking to you. Then the guys next to you ask where you’re from and we get into a conversation about we’re from and why I’m studing her (all in italian).
This place was family style, it is their kitchen. Reminded me of our version of crowding around the island and hanging out. Questo mi casa! (This is my house). I loved the place, and for 22 euro between Adam and I it was spectacular. I will def. go back and the atmosphere is what makes it. Too bad a restaurant like this, could not survive in the US
No comments:
Post a Comment