a cheesy memory

22 Aug

For about two weeks now, mizithra‘s been on the brain. I mean, I can get through an entire meal of salmon and ochazuke without thinking of cheese, but when it’s an hour to midnight and I’m lying in bed concentrating on the noise of the wind through my window or the faint green blinking light from the smoke detector in the farthest corner of my room, I realize that I am kind of hungry. That I haven’t had mizithra in a really long time. That I could really use a hot plate of spaghetti, like, right now. My cheese cravings are not limited to bedtimes, though. In fact, at eight o’clock this morning before work, I was thinking just how wonderful it would be to skip my trip to the office, call a couple of friends, and reserve a table at The Old Spaghetti Factory. There are no particular dishes there that I love and must have, but their marinara and mizithra, ohmygosh mizithra, are enough to evoke very powerful cravings.
The mizithra wasn’t there in 2003 when Chris and a girl he liked took me to the movies for my sixteenth birthday to see Ashton Kutcher and Hilary Duff star in Cheaper By The Dozen, when we sat outside The Old Spaghetti Factory after the matinee sharing earphones, listening to Dashboard while his future girlfriend checked on our reservations, when they both led me to the back of the restaurant where nine of our friends were waiting with gifts and balloons to surprise me for the second year in a row. Chris baked me cupcakes. It was sweet. See? He’s not all jerk.


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