Tamalehawk forgot about this jagged gem, a luscious little lithic of dark chocolate profusely punctured with petrous pieces of pistachio. He tasted these and knew no easy ceasing of the treat disease he had unleashed. They lived dwindling on the perimeter of his table, able to be flipped by wing in a dark arc into the awaiting fate of his beak.
Pistachio's perennial play for the king of nuts never escapes Tamalehawk's notice. He bowed his head in reverence after a single sampling of the pistachio gelato at Mario and Gino's in Roscoe Village. It has haunted his dreams since the fateful tasting, tinting all his thoughts in a bright green sheen of delight. It's a certified Summer Essential, worth a languid, winding shuffle down side streets to reach this unassuming shop. Next time, one scoop of pistachio and one of apricot together at last, forming the elusive apristachicot, a flavor combination worthy of royalty. Update: Mario and Gino's is totally closed on the forever tip.
Amazingly, Tamalehawk, my fiance and I saw you perched on the bench outside Mario & Gino's with your whole flock, that fateful summers night, your little beak (I mean fearsome beak) pecking away at that gelato. We were at the Guatemalan restaurant right across the street but didn't want to ruffle your feathers by shouting across the public street. And your beady eyes didn't spot us. That is the exact corner where we live now. I mean, "nest" now. So we'll be heading (waddling) into and out of Mario and Gino's all summer long.
ReplyDeleteIs this food blogging or poetry? I'm not sure, but I like it.
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