This Valentine’s Day, I found myself working in New York, thousands of miles away from my Sexy Hubby (which seems to be a pattern that developed many years ago.)
Since I was solo on the Day of Love, what better way to celebrate than to head to Little Italy for some comfort food. Like the original lovers of spaghetti and home-made meatballs – Lady and the Tramp – I was ready for a plate of my own!
We found a tiny, hole in the wall spot, splattered with glossy 8×10′s all over the walls, along with random business cards, notes, napkins or other paraphernalia stapled hither and yon. It wasn’t decor at its finest, but damn it felt well-loved.
It was cozy and authentic, and the food was fabulous.
And our waiter made my day.
He called us “Bella” this and “Bella” that. I didn’t understand the string of words before or after “bella” – but anyone that calls me “bella” earns extra special brownie points.
Not to mention a big, fat tip.
Even the graffiti was positive and Valentine’s day focused.
As I stopped to snap this heart-filled photo, I was commenting to my colleague about this display. From the street corner a few feet away, leaning slyly against a pole, smoking a cigarette was a handsome Italian worker, who said simply, “Pier One.”
“What?” I replied
The Italian continued, “My mom got them at Pier One.”
Apparently, not everything in Little Italy is “authentically” Italian!
A perfect parting gift from the City That Never Sleeps…