Allison was very unimpressed with the size of the toppings on this pasta. "They're so tiny!"
"Well," I ventured cautiously, "they are shrimp."
She did not dignify that with a response, but she did finish the dish, so it must've been pretty good otherwise.
This name could have been given to about half the pastas I see my dates eat, but Chelsea really made a point about it. The rigatoni was not able to maintain a hold on the sauce, and consequently the dining experience was notably dry and lackluster.
Imagine a ring of cheese so dense, so packed with cholesterol, that light cannot escape its gooey center. What appears to be a normal pasta transcends into a physical phenomena beyond science's ability to explain. Also, it comes with soup.