Brotini
I'm really glad I don't have gluten sensitivity (and that no one else does either), because I've never had gluten-free pasta that didn't have the unsettling consistency of play-doh. I mean, it's better than having no pasta at all, but not by much.
Pictured here is Brotini - bruh.
Palfredo
Close up images of this sauce always make me a little nauseous, but it's so tasty that I can forgive it that, as long as it's not paired with italian sausage.
Pictured here is Palfredo - I ain't your buddy, pal!
Day Twenty-Seven - Andrew
Demeanor -- Garden salad-like: responsible, mature, but not without its own charm
Feelings about the Olive Garden -- ((lowers voice conspiratorially as waiters walk by)) "I don't want to, y'know, offend the staff here. I mean, it's mediocre. But there's comfort in that. You don't have to wear a jacket."
Most bourgeois moment -- Paid more for a single shot of whiskey than I've spent on any meal in my entire life.
Snapshot --
As always happens when two grown-ass adult men get to talking, the subject of cute dog tricks comes up. I ask Andrew if his dogs know any good ones.
"The little one can stand on her hind legs and kind of flap her paws in the air. She's a little Rory Calhoun!"
--
Andrew, an audio engineer living and working in Bakersfield, came all the way down to my Olive Garden (roughly a two hour drive!) for his shot at internet fame and free pasta. He was alerted to my existence by his friends and longtime All of Garden fans, Tamerlane and Dogs of War, which I think might be pseudonyms.
Anyway, this was a pretty new experience for me, date-wise. What with us both being straight, cis, heterosexual, white men, we didn't have a lot of romantic chat about our future together or what shade of chartreuse would look best for the remodeled foyer's new dustcovers. Instead, we spent our dinner luxuriating over our privilege. It was a welcome change of pace, but I'm ready to get back to more traditional dates tomorrow!
22 more dates to go.
Today's pasta was
Nope, That's How It's Supposed To Taste, I Guess
Nope, That's How It's Supposed To Taste, I Guess
So we're two for two on these meatballs being very, very off. We're also two for two on them not causing, at the least, *immediate* death. Will keep you all posted.
Pictured here is Nope, That's How It's Supposed To Taste, I Guess - huh.
Day Twenty-Six: Kelsey
Demeanor -- Taco salad-like: aggressively saucy
Feelings about the Olive Garden -- "I like it a lot. I'll qualify that by saying that I have, like, no standards. But I like it."
Reaction to being offered a refill after her first bowl of pasta -- In order: Bewilderment, disbelief, excitement, beatific serenity with the universe.
Snapshot --
"So," I say, as we walk outside the restaurant, "are you ready for the selfie?"
"Yes!! I know exactly what I'm going to do."
--
Right from the start, I knew there was something different about Kelsey. Maybe it was her laugh, which was not a chuckle or giggle, but a straight-up cackle -- frequently directed at something she had just said. Maybe it was her Tinder profile, which said nothing but "if you don't swipe right i'll kill myself" and made me feel like I was, in my own way, a life-saving hero. Or maybe it was the number of stories she told that started with some variant of "okay, this is going to sound horrible, but..."
I like her a lot.
23 more dates to go.
Today's pasta was
Audible Moo
Audible Moo
I'm not sure if the cows here in California are just more chill or fed on organic grass or something, but this meatball tasted notably different from the 60+ ones I ate last year. It was either very fresh or, more likely, dangerously undercooked. I guess I'll find out tomorrow, when I'm either dead or not dead. Wish me luck!
Pictured here is Audible Moo - 'course I heard of cows, there's a bunch of 'em right over there!
Day Twenty-Five: Heaven
Demeanor -- Caesar salad-like: always prepared
Feelings about the Olive Garden -- "I always come here for my birthday, but they don't give out free food. :( "
Favorite indie film directors you've probably never heard of -- Neville Rothsberg, Emygdia H. Finn, "The Radish", Miss Quince
Snapshot --
The dinner is over, and as we're preparing to leave, I make a casual, though admittedly snarky, remark about Heaven's inability to finish her first bowl of pasta. She glares.
"You suck. You can put that in your blog."
--
An aspiring filmmaker/silicone manufacturer, Heaven has chosen a challenging career. She has informed me that the most frequently asked question about her line of work is as follows:
"Oh...silicone....Is it for....y'know...*makes jiggling motions at chest-height* boobs?"
If you were curious, the answer is "only sometimes".
24 more dates to go.
Today's pasta was
Betwixt
Betwixt
In honor of my 25th day, I looked up synonyms for "halfway" in the thesaurus, and found this word, which is a lot of fun. This pasta is also super delicious, even without a topping. Pesto alfredo is so pretty ^_^
Pictured here is Betwixt - 24 more days to go.
Day Twenty-Four: Annette
Demeanor -- Fruit salad-like: sweet, enjoyable to all ages
Feelings about the Olive Garden -- "Pasta is totally the moon to my werewolf."
Percentage of date spent on Snapchat, Kik, Instagram, and Millienialz™ - The Web App For Today's Youth -- 48%
Snapshot --
Took this literal snapshot of me while I was preparing today's photo.
--
Annette, a biology student from NorCal, is a frisky and excitable young woman who has perfected the art of getting adorably flustered. I asked her to take the selfie for us, since she seemed pretty capable of modern phone technology. She took one while I was fixing my hair and refused to allow any others on the blog, so enjoy my self-absorbed preening.
25 more dates to go.
Today's pasta was
Cordon Bleu
Cordon Bleu
It's funny that such these staples of American-style cooking - meat, cheese, and just enough refined carbs to turn a meal into intestinal library paste - come together in an Italian-style dish with a French-style name. It's also delicious.
Pictured here is Cordon Bleu - ooh la la~
Day Twenty-three: Elise
Demeanor: Egg salad-like: hard-boiled, smooth
Feelings about the Olive Garden -- "Well, I grew up in an Italian family. So my mom wouldn't approve of this."
Tolerance level of toddler literally screaming three feet away for 40 minutes straight: admirably high
Snapshot:
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAA"
"So," I manage to get in while the kid takes a breath, "do you ever want children?"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
"Not at this very moment, no."
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
--
Elise is in the process of clawing her way up the ladder of the publishing industry. This is particularly challenging since, as my blog's runaway success conclusively proves, print media is dead. She's the editor of "a line of small food magazines", which I assume means she mostly covers hors d'oeuvres, appetizers, etc.
She didn't ask to feature any of my food photography, probably because she was too starstruck. For the record: I'm available for all forms of selling out.
26 more dates to go.
Today's pasta was
Pollo Loco
Pollo Loco
Chicken on chicken?! It's a madhouse! Tricolored penne rounds out this dish and keeps it from being too heavy.
Pictured here is Pollo Loco - ole!