By Julie Brooks
I want to thank the Blogfather for allowing his blog to be the vehicle to share this over-the-top review of Alberto's Ristorante in Hyannis written by my nine-year-old son (grandson of the Blogfather), a 4th-grader at Eddy Elementary School. The teachers have been doing a wonderful job with teaching the kids to write descriptive stories, and below is his latest assignment: a fictitious account of him and friends eating at Alberto's. My son has in fact grown up eating at Alberto's and knows the food well, usually ordering the chicken parm. You've heard the term "unembellished truth?" I think "embellished truth" best describes this review ;)
My birthday feast
Text by Will Brooks
It was time for the party! My ninth birthday, it was. Everybody stood motionless, gazing incessasantly at the midnight black Lincoln Town Car limousine snaking its way down our winding stone driveway...The ride over with, I strode out and took a look at the restaurant. A red brick classical Italian building with an awning over each polished window bearing the words "Alberto's Ristorante" stood before me. I stood, gaping in awe at the fine masonry constructing the captivating exterior.
Inside was a different story. I thought things could not look better in this world, but I was wrong, Expensive silver chandeliers hung from the richly carved ceiling. Pristine white tablecoths blanketed dark mahogany tables, pillowed on a softly carpeted floor. Plush leather took my weight as I sat. It was time to eat.
The menus arrived. Custom-designed fonts spelled out the delectable food available at this fine establishment. Covered in soft leather, the menus caressed my hand. With the luxurious feel of silver, I held my fork firmly. Ordering chicken parmagiana, I prepared for a meal. My main dish was here before I could count to three.
Top-end chicken sat atop fine china, blood-red sauce blanketed the meat in buttery paste. Swirling and twisting angel hair wormed its way into the mouth-watering picture. Slowly, ever so slowly, trying to preserve the image in my alreaady occupied thoughts, I reached forward, with fork in hand, toward the chicken. I stabbed the prongs deep down into the fleshy meat. Plunging the knife daintily across the meaty flesh, cutting like butter. Hesitantly, I pulled the sliced meat up to my watering mouth. For a second, I was completely and utterly dazed.
The lightly seasoned meat burst with an amazing explosion of vivid taste. Stringy cheese added an extra zing, and the smell was simply delightful, with dreamy fragrances wafting through the restaurant. Inhaling slice after slice of chicken, I was totally stuffed with luscious food, as a turkey would be on Thanksgiving Day.
It was time to leave. My dreams were filled with luscious images of food passing by. Then, I ate the meal all over again in my mind. I woke to the restlessness of my brain forcing me to think that, "This would be good story material."
Oh, to be young, skinny, and unconcerned about calories, cholesterol, carbs, or cost ;)