Sal’s Ristorante & Pizzeria – Albuquerque, New Mexico

“Everything you see, I owe to spaghetti.” ~Sophia Loren The ageless movie siren (currently age 90), perhaps the most voluptuous nonogenarian in the world, is hardly a proponent of low carb diets, admitting to daily dosages of macaroni. She maintains her classic hourglass figure by limiting portions–never consuming too many calories in one meal–and by not overloading pasta with rich, thick cream or cheese sauces. Though La Dolce Sophia once told a Sunday morning CBS program that she cannot diet, she actually does adhere to a strict Mediterranean diet which advocates a lot of vegetables, olive oil, pasta and red wine. That Sophia Loren maintains a figure women half her age envy is a credit to her discipline.  For many of us, Italian food is an irresistible indulgence shrouded in one stereotype. “The trouble with eating Italian food,” according to British writer George Miller, “is that five or six days later you’ll be hungry again.” With Italian food–at least Americanized Italian food served across the fruited plain–portions are often enough to feed a village in a developing country.  On every table at so many Italian restaurants, you’ll espy a plethora of pasta, tons of tomato sauce, mountains of meatballs, bakeries…

JOE’S PASTA HOUSE – Rio Rancho, New Mexico

Once a year, despite my protestations and whining, I agree to take my Kim to the Olive Garden. It’s a deal we have, albeit one that makes me feel like Faust in the Christopher Marlowe play. Faust, for the non-English majors among you, was a scholar who sells his soul to the devil in exchange for unlimited knowledge and worldly pleasures. In my case, the deal is a visit to Olive Garden once a year in exchange for all the strange and exotic restaurants I want to visit the rest of the year. I sure got the rotten end of that deal. On a list of things I’d rather do, my annual visit to the Olive Garden for a meal of cheese glop or tomato torture ranks somewhere below visiting a proctologist or watching The View. Kim likes the salad and bread sticks and I suspect derives a bit of sadistic satisfaction in hearing me mutter polysyllabic epithets about the “Evil Garden’s” food. The cultural anthropologist in me finds it both amusing and tragic that teeming masses congregate for pathetic pasta, mediocre marinara and boring bread sticks. It makes me long for a visit to Joe’s Pasta house in Rio…