This pasta’s past it

26 09 2008

I adore Italian food. My mouth was salivating at the thought of a freshly cooked proper Italian meal ahead. We had booked a table at Spaghetti House in Leicester Square and were shown into the basement which was otherwise empty – ideal for a group of deaf people as it’s much easier to lipread when it’s quiet and you’re not fighting to hear scraps of sentences against other voices. The staff didn’t bat an eyelid at a Hearing Dog accompanying us. A waitress even asked if the dog would like some water and brought a bowl. Ten out of ten for that.

But the meal? Ugh. Daniel said his minestrone soup was like water with vegetables in it. I had garlic bread, which was the worst I’ve ever had. It was just a roll cut in two, it was burnt and dry, and I could barely taste the garlic. Then I had meatballs. That was dry too. Pork meatballs with plenty of herbs, a little tomato sauce, and spaghetti. Hell, I could’ve cooked a better job myself. (Now you see why I don’t like to go out to eat?) When the puddings turned up, we agreed they looked like the best part of the meal. And my beer was £6. The waitress was pushy and kept asking us if we wanted the pudding menu, the drinks menu etc.

I was so glad to leave!

FOL’s verdict : Photobucket

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