|There's a new restaurant in my town and one of my friends who had come for a visit decided that we should go check it out. As the MA Fat Woman, I'm not known for my ability to skip a meal, so I agreed that we should go.
This new restaurant was located in a building that had had three previous occupants that had all went out of business within a short time. I'm not sure if that bode well for the new owners or not?
Anyhow, once we got inside the place we were met with an Italia theme with checkered tablecloths, candles in wine bottles and "That's Amore'" blasting out on the sound system. It was nice. After perusing the menu we both decided on fettuccine Alfredo and fried mozzarella for an appetizer. All we had to do now was wait...and wait...and wait!
The place wasn't busy at all, only four customers. I didn't know what was taking so long. Finally, our orders were presented at the table with a flourish by an overly attentive waitress and we dug in.
"What's that?" said my friend.
My friend, who is culinarily challenged, and isn't known for her ability to rattle any pots and pans in the kitchen was questioning the dark green substance that was totally covering the fettuccine Alfredo. They say that a little goes a long way, but somewhere along the way, somebody forgot to tell this to the chef. It was way too much parsley! I was having trouble finding a noodle without having to shovel mounds and mounds of parsley out of the way.
I glanced up at my friend and she was having just as many problems as me with her entree. She kept scooping off the green stuff. Finally, with a sigh of resignation and a questioning look, she asked me this question: "Is it broccoli?"