Traipsing along Ayala Avenue yesterday morning, Mico and I, found this quaint gelato shop whose menu totally misled us. I was looking forward to gelato when we went inside but ended up getting iced coffee drinks that were way overpriced.
It was my fault anyway for thinking affogato was anywhere near ice cream. I knew I should have taken Italian as a language course in college. I would like to blame the barista because they don’t have banana split available (which I’m pretty sure is a frozen product derived from dairy) so we were left to settle for something we thought we’d be trying for the first time. Which we weren’t. It’s just a coffee drenched iced drink more over-rated than the Twilight saga.
I’m good at concealing disappointment and ignorance though when all I got was a coffee based drink after ordering a Black Forest Affogato. Acted like I intended to get affogato to begin with. I’m beginning to hate that word.
I decided I would not let it ruin my morning. I knew I should have ordered the one that says ice cream in plain English. I bet that Giant Belgian is really good.
Does this tell me that I shouldn’t dare dine at a high-end restaurant if I don’t want to embarrass myself with my mispronunciation of the food, bungle my table manners involving several cutlery, and find myself short of money to pay my bill and tip? No. It tells me that I should have, even the slightest idea, of how the food I ordered taste and look like. I’d hate to pay dear money for food that I can’t enjoy.
We did not get our dream gelato that day but I think they put happy drugs in their iced coffee drinks. Or maybe, that’s just sugar-high because our morning was pretty fun and I celebrated it with some splurges on DVD and a pair of shoes.🙂 Who would forget vanity and humble-brags? Not me.
Maybe I should really learn Italian. After all I want to travel the world, eat, wander and love Europe.
My writing gets crappier each day.