Holy pastascuitta Batman, as we descended the tight stairwell and entered the dining room I suddenly felt as though I'd fallen in a hot tub time machine and ended up in the 70's. Cluttered doesn't even begin to describe this cornucopia of faux, and generally plaster and plastic, decorative ornamentation. I'd go on but words fail me. I had to dredge up vague, psychedelic memories from the 70's to establish even a tenuous frame of reference. I was suddenly awash in a sea of munches but I haven't smoked dope in years. Was I going through some kind of past life regression? Would Classical Gas start wafting through an unseen PA system?
Finally seated and somewhat adjusted to my new reality I found refuge in the large, ornate menu. The gnocchi with a bolognese sauce sounded good while my wife ordered pasta Clinton dish. We chose Filomena because a friend of a friend (I know, I know, don't remind me) told her the Italian food at Filomena was better than the food she'd eaten in Italy. We enjoy the food in Italy a lot and my wife and I both being 2nd generation Italian grew up eating some real authentic dishes. So, after a few bites I suddenly felt my already shaky reality begin to dissipate likes wisps of incense through a beaded doorway. Is there another Italy I don't know about located somewhere between South Dakota and Arkansas? Where does this incredibly dense tomato sauce come from? Was this really President Clinton's favorite dish? To be fair, the portions were large enough to feed a Roman Legion, and the food wasn't terrible. It just wasn't very good, even with the munches.
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