Day 75: GINO’S !!!Posted: March 16, 2011
“Today every Book owner is to reserve a table at Gino’s for eight o’clock on the 4th of July next year.”
Apparently this Gino’s place is sort of a big deal – maybe because there’s not much other good Italian food in Baton Rouge? I don’t know. The Book reproduces parts of Gino’s website – which doesn’t look like it’s been updated since it went live back in 2001 – yes, really, 2001, and it must have looked like an oddity from the distant past even then – I mean, seriously, the graphics are all ridiculously low-resolution, none of them are clickable, the layout is clumsy – it just feels like the internet of the mid-1990s, when everything was ugly and amateurish, which was fine then, but this is 2011, for fuck’s sake, you can’t get away with this sort of thing anymore, but I guess they are, and nobody cares what the website looks like if the food’s good…
Shit, where was I? Oh, right: the food is, apparently, actually good. Paul Newman and Placido Domingo each ate there, at least once, before they both died – though the two things are, I’m sure, totally unrelated, especially because Mr Domingo isn’t dead yet. YET.
Even though the food is good, I don’t know that driving eight hours to eat Italian food sounds that appealing – especially if it’s something I have to plan in advance. That sort of ridiculous undertaking is best when it’s done impulsively, or on short notice. That’s how I ended up in Alaska that one time. If the Book had told me to “eat at Gino’s before your next haircut” or something, I might have considered doing it. I’ve already had to put a future event on my calendar for the Book, though, and I don’t really want to do it again.
So I didn’t call to make a reservation. I prefer to keep my fourths of July open, though I usually end up with my Dad’s side of the family: drinking more bourbons-and-seven than is good for me, smoking a cigar, blowing shit up, and posting snarky comments to twitter. Good times – certainly better times than 16-hours-in-the-car-with-a-belly-full-of-pasta times, because those times aren’t really that fun.