i shouldn’t admit this, as (i say sarcastically) i’m supposed to be a sophisticated new yorker with an impeccable palate, who has dined in some of the world’s best restaurants both here and in europe.
and i live in a city with perhaps more outstanding restaurants per capita than anywhere else on earth. and some of those restaurants are actually affordable and accessible.
as is the olive garden, where i’m having lunch today.
to clarify, i mean that the olive garden is accessible (in times square) and affordable (by new york standards, though i’m sure tourists blanch at the prices on the menu as compared to the olive garden in their hometown). i don’t mean that the olive garden is counted among that number of outstanding new york city restaurants.
but, i have to admit, they make a mean salad. and the soup is passable, though it might as well be a bowl of salted water when compared to the sublime soups that my friend mark makes at red cafe.
so i go, with some co-workers, to the olive garden. occasionally. for lunch. for the soup and salad.
and i like it. so there. yummo, as rachael ray might say. since we’re talking about the olive garden, she’s a good one to quote, i figure.
hey, it’ll tide me over until this weekend, when the big apple bbq hits madison park. fifteen or so of the best barbecue makers on the planet, selling their varied and excellent plates to me via my “bubba pass” (a stored value card that lets you skip the long lines).
now that’s yummo, with a capital “yum”.
but today, i’ll fight the wednesday theater matinee crowd for a table at the olive garden.