So my brother Tony is in from out of town. Tony’s always been a stocky guy, big belly, likes his food. We grew up in a mainly Italian American neighborhood where the pizzaria was king.
Now Tone lives in the Midwest where he cannot find the same quality. The pizza and related food there is decent to good in his opinion, occasionally great, but just a different quality. Of course the food we’re used to is always “the best” no matter where we’re from. Probably.
So he’s in town for the weekend. And visited me this evening after arriving at the airport. Late flight so by the time he got to my hood, it was 10:30pm. But Tony ate lite and needed dinner. My current neighborhood has Italian roots, so we went to a great pizzaria that I already cleared that it would be open late.
I knew dinner would be late so I ate lite that evening too so I could eat dinner with Tony. I ordered a chicken cutlet hero. In retrospect it was too much for me at that hour.
Tony ordered a slice of pizza… and a calzone:
This was a plain one, just cheese melted inside some dough, no added meat of anything. These are a staple of his youth. Not mine, mind you. They never appealed to me.
But tonight I vanquished the dragon… I actually tried it. Melted ricotta cheese. I think that’s it.
Meh. It was ok. I don’t think I ever need to have that again.
Tony, bless his heart (literally), took home a prosciutto sandwich with provolone and other salami types to snack on over the course of traveling through the city tomorrow.
Geez, I hope he doesn’t finish it on the ride home tonight.