I had lunch at The Olive Garden today. I’ve never been a big fan of that place but never been sure why. Today it dawned on me: their flavors are too obvious. If they want something to be salty, they pour the salt on. If they want you to notice the parmesan crust, they bake that shit all over the place. If they want you to experience capers they add capers up the ying yang. Everything comes on strong.
The whole experience is a bit like dealing with an old Russian whore. You ever dealt with an old Russian whore? “Come and make love to me, darlink! My body needs your touch!” Yeah, uh, maybe later. “Now my sweet man-bear. I yearn to be dominated by you!!” Eh, I really need to get going. “Please, darlink! I BEG YOU to enslave me with your masterful fingers!!! PLEASE!!!” I think my bus is coming.
The Olive Garden is like the old Russian whore of Italian restaurants.