The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.
Proof of that came many years ago during a Valentine’s Day with the guys, future members of the About Men Radio crew.
Unfortunately, none of us had female companions on this amorous holiday so we drowned our frustrations with food.
We ended up at an Italian pizzeria/restaurant, a nice family place.
And then the horror began. It was a Valentine’s Day massacre.
Multiple appetizers, drinks and more appetizers were ordered.
Mozzarella sticks. Bruschetta. Ribs. Wings. Antipasto. Calamari. House salad. French fries… You name it, we ordered it.
Then came our entrees:
Chicken parmigiana. Lasagna. Fettuccini alfredo. Eggplant rolentine. Italian sausage. Ziti. And of course, pizza.
The table was covered with dishes of food; no tablecloth was visible.
Our poor waitress came over and cheerfully offered to take some of the plates away that she thought we were finished with.
With mouths stuffed with food, we all looked up — hunched over the table devouring our meals — and grunted “no.”
Her smile disappeared and it was replaced with fear.
This food orgy went on for some time.
The sounds that emanated from our table were epic.
We shared it all. No dish was left untouched, and no doggy bags went home with us.
I don’t remember if we had dessert, but I’m sure John had coffee, so Gary must have had chocolate cake.
We probably ruined some Valentine’s Day dates and scared some young children, but our stomachs were all satisfied after this gastronomic bacchanalia that took our minds off our lack of female company.
I’m not sure if we ever went back to this place.
They probably had our pictures on the wall with red crossed-out circles through them.
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