That's the question on the table.
My friend Steve says not to question it. But that's my modus operendi, I'm a questioner. I'm an over thinker. I'm a ponderer. But Steve is right. Don't over think it.
Last night, The Drummer and I went to Little Toni's an old school Italian joint in the Valley. It's got menu items like:
SPAGHETTI with Meat Balls
SPAGHETTI with Meat Sauce
SPAGHETTI with Garlic and Oil
SPAGHETTI with Clam Sauce
SPAGHETTI with Broccoli
And the same but with Linguini.
It reminds me of Frantone's a place that I grew up going to when I was a kid in Downey, California. I've actually been dying to go back for a while, so this definitely satisfied that need. The submarine sandwiches at Frantone's had a tapenade made with olives on them. They were kind of like muffalettas disguised as submarine sandwiches. The oil and the cold cuts got all nice and soft, which contrasted with the crunch from the onions, tomatoes and lettuce. A bit of mayo. I have strong memories of getting subs from Frantone's and then heading to Huntington Beach to go body surfing. My skin, dark and lovely, baked brown in the sun back in the day when we didn't worry about skin cancer. Ah, innocence.
Little Toni's was like stepping into the past. The animated past. It seemed very LADY AND THE TRAMP. Not sure which one I would be since I've been both a lady and a tramp throughout my life. Either one would be fine. I'm not offended. We had salads with blue cheese dressing, shared a pizza with sausage, bell peppers and garlic and manicotti with meat sauce. That's the Italian food I was raised on, the kind served on red gingham tablecloths.
It's funny because I've been to Italy and have had some pretty amazing Italian food. Orcchette with rapini, sausage, garlic and olive oil. Wild Boar tagliettelli. I'm spelling all of those pasta names wrong. I've made my own gnocchi with brown butter, sage, balsamic and Parmesan. I think I need to take The Drummer to Torroni to have some fritto misti and some homemade pasta. When I think of Italian food now, that's the Italian food I think of. Am I a snob? Yeah, a bit. But I loved dinner last night too. My favorite thing my Mom makes is lasagna. I wanted to get the chopped salad or the antipasto platter at Little Toni's.
So while my tastes have evolved and broadened, I still love what I consider my childhood classics. But I think there's some room for some salume, cheeses and olives as antipasti. A Campari and Soda. Some bruschetta with lardo. I guess what I'm saying is that there's room for everything. Yes, I'm a snob, but I'm not snobby about my food. And I like the idea of sharing that knowledge with someone, much like that knowledge was shared with me.
To be honest, I prefer a burger from a place like Oinkster that does those great hamburger joint classics, but with everything from scratch than a place like Umami. Although I do love the Triple Pork Burger. But not everything has to be truffle this and foie gras that. Although I am craving bone marrow. I'd rather have chicken tacos from Pepe's Numbero Dos in Downey or Antonio's on Melrose than most things any day of the week.
How did this become a conversation about food instead of the question in the title of this blog post? Not sure. But am I ready to date again? I'm ready to be held by a sweet guy. I'm ready to look into his eyes and instantly smile. I'm ready to have sex at night and in the morning. I'm ready to explode with passion swiftly after hours of foreplay. I'm ready for kind words exchanged back and forth. Sure, I have sophisticated tastes, but that's not a reason to sell out your self worth. It's easy to get seduced by "the finer things", but none of those measures up against someone who touches you gently in the morning, tells you that you're special and someone who inspires you to return the favor.
What happens after that remains to be seen, a fact that both The Drummer and I can agree upon.
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