Mangia!

Last night, after a routine medical exam for Connie, we decided to try Mangia Pasta!, an Italian restaurant we'd never been to before. It was a few minutes before five, and they weren't open yet, so we popped into Yoko's, the Japanese restaurant and sushi bar next door that we had also never tried.

Yoko's has a beautiful saltwater aquarium with invertebrates and brightly colored fish. It's hard to keep inverts healthy, so someone talented must be doing the maintenance on the tank. Isn't it cruel, though, to keep live fish in view of a sushi bar? Wouldn't it make them anxious? One fish might ask another fish, "Hey, Joe, what's that they're serving?" and Joe would reply, "Don't ask!" I can envision a customer asking the sushi chef for something exotic, and the chef says, "Let me get my net." At any rate, we plan to try Yoko's soon, possibly next week when Debbie comes to visit.

We returned to Mangia Pasta and waited on the patio for the restaurant to open. There was a listless dog laying on the patio, a long-haired German Shepherd the size of Sasquatch, and a gayly dressed woman with a stethoscope around her neck. It's not often I see stethoscopes on pasta patrons. We were just down the street from the hospital, though, so I was betting she was a nurse.

"Are you a doctor?" I asked. Just because I think she's a nurse doesn't mean I can't be diplomatic!

"I'm a nurse," she said. She went on to explain that she worked in the cancer ward at the hospital. When she started there, she expected it to be depressing, but in the two years she's worked there she's found that the patients, for the most part, have displayed a wonderful strength and honesty and joy of life. Her job there is the love of her life, she said.

It sounds great, but I still hope we never need her services.

Mangia Pasta opened at five, and we were quickly seated and served fresh warm bread. It's a small restaurant with modern decor and white linen on the tables. The prices are what one would expect with white linen.

There was jazz playing on the sound system, which I enjoy but Connie doesn't. Between the music, the small size and the hard surfaces, it was fairly noisy. Especially when they switched to Miles Davis type jazz, which I don't like. One piece sounded like an insane asylum's rusty gates squealing while the inmates pounded on kitchen utensils. I asked the waitress what CD they were playing, but she never said.

Sadly, when the food finally came, my chicken parmesan was delicious and Connie's halibut on polenta earned high marks from her. We'd eat there again, but only if the music was better, or we took our food to go.

Update: I just found out Mangia Pasta is gone.


Blog Tag: Chatter