Lower Your Flags

Jun 25, 2014 by

          Please join me in bringing your Italian flags to half-mast – and not only because Italy has been unjustly eliminated from the World Cup (Uruguay bites – literally). I am devastated to inform you that Osso Bucco, my favourite restaurant of all time, has been shut down. (It’s been a rough week for Italians.) I got the heart-wrenching news on Monday morning from one of my favourite Osso Bucco servers at precisely 7:14 am, the time pasta died. Osso Bucco’s pasta was the best I ever had, topping any I’ve tasted in Italy itself and standing strong as the only pasta I trust in the GTA, including that prepared by my own family. Actually, Osso Bucco is the reason I eat pasta. Growing up on pasta made me hate it. Osso Bucco showed me that pasta could be more than boiled dough in tomato sauce.

          By teaching me to love pasta – but only their pasta – Osso Bucco ensured my regular attendance from when I was first introduced as a teenager. Olivia and I went so frequently over the years that we were dubbed “the Bucco girls.” I’ve become so well acquainted with the staff that I can’t bring dates there. Some ladies stress about guys meeting their parents. I stressed about how I was going to introduce my future boyfriend to the Osso Bucco fam. They’d have been far more likely to question his intentions. I settled on waiting until I’m in a serious relationship, possibly engaged, before ever bringing a boyfriend to Osso Bucco. Now, my Prince Charming and food family will never meet.

          Questions about the uncertain future of Italian food have been racing through my mind: How will I ever eat chicken fusilli made right with shrimp instead of chicken, rosé instead of parmesan cream, and extra garlic again? Will pasta still have a presence in my life? Who is going to cater my hypothetical big Italian wedding? (It’s hypothetical because I don’t want a big Italian wedding. Ideally, I’d like to elope or something to skip the fuss. Even so, hypothetically, I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do about my imaginary wedding guests’ primi piatti.)

          Goodbye, Osso Bucco. Your legacy will remain in the hearts of the Maria my mom confuses for Theresa, the Bucco girls, and every friend I’ve ever thought special enough to meet you. You will be sorely missed.

 
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