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Expectations are a bitch.
Not that I knew exactly what to expect from the red-headed fat dude
with the ponytail who loves to serve organ meat and weird sea creatures
form the coast of Italy. Lupa is a little less funky, but is fancy-pants
and unique nonetheless. My expectations, while completely made up
in my own head, were that I'd be served some incredible homemade Italian
comfort food with modern flair. I gotta say, though, that growing
up in California, Italian food to me was pizza and the occasional
brick of lasagna. The Italians apparently got as far as Chicago and
decided to screw the rest of the country by sending us the California
equivalent, which always included sun dried tomatoes, over-done pasta
and little to no seasoning. After all, California is the place where
cheeseless pizza was dreamt up. So my idea of Italian food, even to
this day is pretty limited. When I close my eyes and imagine what
I would have on my plate, I envision warm raviolis and cheese and
garlic and bread and carbs and carbs and carbs. But what I found at
Lupa was cold tuna chunks with white beans, ricotta gnocchi with some
crumbled sausage (which violates my cute or smart policy) and some
kind of sea bass or something for my entree. While all of it was decent,
it just wasn't what I thought I was going to get. So if I had gone
there with the idea of this menu in my head, I probably would have
been perfectly happy, but instead I walked away a little disappointed.
It would be like going to a place with a Spanish name expecting to
get an awesome burrito and a margarita, only to walk in to find it's
a tapas joint. I'm not going to hunt down Batali and demand my money
back or anything, but I might temper my excitement somewhat the next
time I plan to spend an evening in one of his restaurants--or at least
will check the menu online first. So sorry, Jas, I suck. [MF]
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