You Are What You Eat

If we are what we eat, then next time you see us we will resemble Italians (or at the very least, a pizza and bowl of pasta). All of our activities this weekend revolved around eating.

Friday: Dinner at Kitchen and Cocktails, a LES (that's Lower East Side for anyone who's not in the know) version of San Francisco's Luna Park. After several delicious cocktails, we enjoyed halibut and mac and cheese. The Italian-fest has begun!

Saturday: After a failed attempt to find the Jamba Juice, we lunched at Lil' Frankie's on salad and pizza. On the way home, we picked up fresh pasta from Raffeto's (thanks for the recommendation, Imwalles!). We whipped up a meal of fresh black squid tortellini with lobster and shrimp for Elliott's brother and law school roommate Kimberly. At this point, we were feeling pretty Italian.

Sunday: We sealed the deal tonight at an authentic Italian dinner at my cousin Rose's parents' house in Stamford, Connecticut. After two enormous dishes of baked ziti, I thought the meal was over. Oh no. We ate chicken and homemade prosciutto and tomato salad and octopus salad and bread and cheesecake and cookies. I'm not kidding. And all of it was so delicious! My cousin's parents grow all of their vegetables in their back yard. I'm talking heirloom tomatoes the size of a human head. By the way, the whole Stamford/Stanford thing is very confusing.

After we wade through our pasta care package from Stamford, I'm looking forward to a few days of steamed vegetables and tofu. Ciao, bellas!