The restaurant was like the proverbial curate’s egg meaning it was good in parts. It was very good in the parts it was good in, and it was very bad in the parts it was bad in. The fat man considered that the good outweighed the bad but that was only his personal opinion. You might beg to differ.
On the good side, the fat man was made to feel very welcome. The people working in the restaurant were extremely affable. The food in the restaurant was “molto buona” in the fat man’s opinion. He started with a plate of cold meats and cheese. He ate the meats together with some olives and garlic and held most of the cheese back to finish the wine. The “vino della casa” was more than decent for the price.
Next the fat man had pappardelle with a wild boar ragu which he took this picture of.
On the bad side, the restaurant’s lighting was far too bright. The fat man abhorred bright lights. He preferred strategic lighting. The décor was modern and shiny and the fat man considered it to be tacky. And worst of all the music in the restaurant was all eighties hits which Sky Music happened to be shitting out that night.
On balance the fat man believed the restaurant was very much like life. Good in parts, bad in parts but overall good. That was his personal opinion.
Many years later as the fat man (who was no longer fat but cancer-thin) was on the very edge of his final sleep, he happened to think of that "Pappardelle al Ragu Di Cinghiale" and considered it one of the great meals of his life. He died with this thought sountracked, for all eternity, by Midge Ure singing “Vienna”.
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