For Valentine's Day, Joey and I decided to treat ourselves to a nice dinner. We went to a fancy Italian restaurant in Lincoln Square. Due to romantic mood lighting and not wanting to set off a huge flash, there are no pictures of this adventure. Only my word.
We ordered Prosciutto con Melone as an appetizer to share. Joey ordered fancy-people Margherita Pizza, and I decided to go with Conchiglie Ripieni Marscapone (Italian for Spinach Stuffed Shells and Meatballs).
My meal was not very adventurous, but the appetizer and Joey's dinner counted.
Our prosciutto came with dried figs on the side. I like Fig Newtons, but eating the dried skin of a fig? Without a cookie surrounding it?? No thank you!
But then I remembered that I am a grown up. I shouldn't have to disguise fruit with a cookie in order to eat it! I'm 25, not 5! So I ate that dried, little, cookie-less Fig Newton.
Dried figs taste exactly like Fig Newtons! Dried figs are awesome! Doesn't that make me sound so posh? "Pass me the dried figs, wouldn't you, dear?" That's pretty posh.
Joey's pizza also counts as an adventure. His Margherita Pizza was essentially dough that was covered in mozzarella cheese and whole slices of tomatoes. Tomatoes are disgusting. They are the worst and I hate them.
But then, once more, I remembered that I am a grown up. A grown up who was at a fancy restaurant with her grown up boyfriend! So I bit the bullet and ate a slice.
The tomatoes were unexpectedly sweet. They weren't crunchy, like I thought they were going to be. The pizza wasn't bad. It wasn't Martino's, but it was okay.
I definitely won't be putting tomatoes on my salad or anything. Raw, they're still ultra gross.