MAX, my Italian love

Long time no blog eh?

I've been soaking up my last days of being home

in the wonderful city,

trying to distract myself from the fate that awaits me in Poughkeepsie

long nights in the library reading while half asleep,

shopping being limited to 3 hours on the weekend after enduring a 

sweaty, obnoxious shuttle ride 

vending machines with Swedish Fish but no Sour Patch Kids 

(which should constitute a crime)

gross clumps of hair in the shower drain

frigid toilet seats that give me a surprisingly unpleasant jolt in the mornings

(people just love to leave the bathroom windows open)

but amongst those other nightmares that bring me

oodles of gloom

is the watered down pasta sauce that sadly coats the 

spaghetti, penne and all other things Italian

You know what I realized in college?

how much I love spaghetti, it was always one of those things I took for granted

never realizing the joy that those noodles could bring to my heart 

when slurped and enjoyed with plenty of thick, tasty sauce

spaghetti is so simple, so classic, so key to life honestly

that the college dining experience can 

massacre something so simply delicious

is beyond me, it is an utter shame

so as I enjoyed my first plate of spaghetti and meatless meatballs

I was elated, transported to another world of pizza and mama's pasta sauce

but that wasn't enough for me, I love my mother, but she is not Italian

I need some of nonna's cooking to satisfy my Italian cravings

the cravings my roommate knows much about

because instead of counting sheep at night, we talk about food until we are drowsy

best cure for restlessness, ever

anyway, the only way to satisfy, and possibly perpetuate 

[perpetuate is such a Vassar word, ew]

my craving for Italian was to visit the best Italian restaurant I know

MAX, on 4th and Avenue B, otherwise known as heaven

which the Zagat gave a 22 for  food, 15 for decor, and 16 for service

boo! I say to the 22 & 15!

for the dark rustic ambiance of the place takes me to another world

as does the food, after ordering Caprese & 

homemade gnocchi with tomato sauce, basil & mozzarella

I was set, ready for some sweet Italian loving

loving that I definitely cannot find at Vassar

the fresh mozzarella, tomato & basil were out of this world

and made me wish I was Italian for a few seconds...maybe a few minutes

so that I could have a fresh, moist little lump of mozzarella inhabiting my fridge at all times

then, the gnocchi came and I was instantly transported to a world of Vespas & gelato

a deep bowl of tiny potato love pockets in thick sauce, 

& cheese that was so melty and stretchy

I'm salivating just reliving the experience

those gnocchi made the gnocchi at Vassar look like fat maggots swimming in dirty red water

that sounds really gross actually...

anyhow, I love the Jersey Shore and everything

but the true Italian essence was in New York City, sitting in my bowl drowning in cheese.

This is exactly what I would look like if I was Italian, it's just uncanny.