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It is, and always has
been, our opinion that Italian restaurants should be small, intimate
places with waiters in white aprons and candles on the table. They
shouldn't be mammoth warehouses packed with spiky-haired adolescent
children and light wood everywhere. Its hangar-like interior aside,
Ernie's screams authentic Italian the way McDonald's screams authentic
Irish. Our waiter's accent was more Rome, New York than Rome, Italy
and we're not sure, but we don't think there's a single person in
the old country named Ernie. Granted, there aren't many places you
can bring a group of thirty on a Thursday night... Unfortunately size
has very little to do with taste (why does that sound so gross?) because
if it did, the chicken parm wouldn't give the impression that the
poor fowl died in vain. Everything has that conveyor belt quality
about it, put together more like a Ford than a culinary delight. Somebody
must have fallen asleep on the line, as many of the dishes were missing
some important ingredients such as spice, flavor and, uh, taste. [MF]
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