another fine Italian experience

Upon arriving at my hotel tonight, my soul worn from 34 days in Texas, the simplest possible feeding was in order. Ambling across the parking lot to Mazzios Italian Eatery my mind wandered to those lovely spring days in Rome.

Gazing at the primary-colored plastic menu above the counter I surveyed a landscape of Italian classics, and questions filled my mind: Dare I enter the "Dippin' Zone?" Could an unassuming cafe in Temple, TX really replicate old-country classics like "Italian Nachos," and "Dippin' Fries?" Are their "Wings of Fire!" really authentic? Are they as loud as advertised?

But the true test of an Italian restaurant revolves around a single dish. Every Italian is raised eating this dish and every restaurant serves it. Festivals in its honor are held from Turin to Bologna. The Pope eats it every day, even keeping it under his hat in case he gets peckish during afternoon mass. I'm speaking of course, of the Quesapizza.

Four. More. Days.