We're in Cincinnati for a librarians' conference. My uncle took us to a place he says my mom liked, because it smelled so wonderfully of garlic.
I had home made spinach fettucine, with marinara & 2 big meatballs. The noodles were on the thick side, chewy, and just a little watery - the sauce, called the house spicy marinara, had big hunks of garlic and was appropriately tomato-y. Mark had to explain the menu to me - I said they have a lot of baked pastas, and he pointed out that it was because all the simply sauced ones (that I chose from) were on the side. They also had a whole column of veal dishes - what Uncle David ate - and I maybe should have too - I usually figure I should take the opportunity to eat baby cow in a restaurant like this where it will be well-prepared, especially when John is not around, since after seeing calves in veal boxes at a veal farm during a school trip in 4th grade, he thinks veal is too cruel to eat.
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