So, if you haven’t read it on my Instagram.
If you haven’t heard it on my podcast.
Then I will tell you happily again.
I grew up Italian.
Homemade meatballs and lasagna at Christmas. Endive aka Italian wedding soup. HOME MADE too! I crave red sauce, cheese is ACTUALLY part of my DNA, and garlic…. do not EVEN get me started on garlic. All my friends know that if garlic is on the menu I will order copious, offensive amounts that could wipe the entire globe of vampires if they existed.
But pasta. PASTA. Oh for dear heaven’s sake, get me within 10 feet of a bowl of homemade pasta and no one is safe til I have it. And Luce. Boy did they ever deliver.
I’m not even kidding you, I could have stayed there all night until I was naked due to pasta bloat preventing my pants from fitting and covered in sauces from pesto to garlic parm. I was in absolute blissful gluten-laden glory. There is not one bite I didn’t want to treasure like it was gold spun from my great-grandmother’s hands herself.
All the pasta is homemade, the ingredients are of the highest quality, and I truly haven’t had better Italian food in my life.
We started with foccacia and anti-pasti
then moved on to pancetta & tomato rigatoni and hot pepper oil spaghetti
continuing on into my third glass of Lambrusco we rounded out the dinner with INSANE garlic and rosemary hanger steak
…..and of course…dessert.
let me repeat that. RICOTTA CHEESECAKE.
I will dream about that confection for decades, for the rest of my life, and probably find it very difficult to decide between actual wedding cake or like 3500 of these cheesecakes. I will, in fact, need that many and I probably won’t share. Just saying.
Enjoy the photographs from my amazing evening that on every #tbt I will always want to relive. Please someone develop teleportation or a way to consume copious amounts of insane Italian food without getting fat. Please and thank you !
Without further adou …..