On my way home last night, after a later-than-usual evening at work, I realized I had no dinner. Or, rather, I had eggplant I needed to cook but nothing to cook with it. The refrigerator was bare. So I got off of the street car on 41st Ave. and stopped at the North Beach Pizza a block or so away. I ordered their garlic pasta and figured I'd saute the eggplant and add it.
A great idea, as it turned out. Except for the garlic. They didn't just mean that they put garlic on their pasta, but rather that they put some pasta in with their garlic. I could smell it on the eight-block walk home. I could smell it in the kitchen. And today, almost 24 hours later, I'm pretty sure I can still smell it on me.
But, it's Halloween, so at least I'm protected against things that go bump in the night.
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