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Um, uh, yeah, so I think
I, um, had some chicken parmesan or something here. Obviously this
place is about as memorable as a morning dump. The decorations looked
as if they were bought at some terrible Italian import/export warehouse
in Jersey. The tile floor, fake fire and aloof waiters gave the place
an odd, cold feeling. The over-priced food gave me a cold,
empty feeling--right in my wallet. These places may fool clueless
theater-going tourists, but we know a run-of-the-mill Italian joint
when we taste it. Like most Italian restaurants in the city, the food
wasn't bad, just not remarkable, and hardly worth the inflated cost
for the Broadway crowd. Sometimes a meatball isn't just a meatball.
[MF]
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