In these dark times, truth is an endangered species. Trust is hard to come by. But at mealtime, we lay bare our vulnerabilities. When a plate hits the table, we're putting the utmost trust that those who prepared our food have our best interest in mind. And our best interest is rooted in trust.
Recently, my trust was shattered. All it took was one trip to the popular Romano’s Macaroni Grill.
I wasn’t expecting a lot from this popular chain: just some simple, delicious Italian fare. Not upscale, but not cheap. I believe the word is "rustica." And true to form, things began delectably. I savored my springy calamari fritti, practically licking that black pepper aioli out off the dish in between hearty gulps of my Cranberry Splash, made from a blueberry Red Bull so authentic it made me miss my nonna. But as I perused the pasta menu, a sudden wave of shock washed over my body. My trust was washed down the drain like so much discarded Bolognese.