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il Pirata, Ecstasy

Posted on June 25, 2007 
Filed Under Gluttony

Let me just say that I am not a very big fan of themed restaurants. So, upon arriving Sunday night at il Pirata over at Eastwood City, I was a little suspect. Il Pirata is supposedly a pirate-themed restaurant which boasts of authentic Italian cuisine replete with exotic herbs and spices from the Mediterranean.

From the outside, it doesn’t look at all promising; what with the cheap-looking wooden exterior, gold accents and grinning skulls that make the entire pirate theme look forced, and a pirate ship/kids’ playground which looks like it came straight out of a B-movie.

The restaurant was actually the girl friend’s pick and as with most of her choices as far as restaurants are concerned, it was a little too awkward for me primarily because unlike most people, I do not have this blind fascination with pirates. So yeah, I do not want to run a fantasy of hoisting the Jolly Roger flag and hidden treasures through my head concurrently while I eat. I’m a very pragmatic man and all I really want to do at restaurants is get in, eat my food, check out hot women (and of course go to the rest room every 10 minutes or so for some hand comfort) and get the fuck out to smoke a cigarette.

Also, the restaurant has a very family feel to it and there were children running around with coloring materials and balloon swords . The interiors are designed to resemble a ship’s galley and even the waiters and chefs were dressed in-character with bandanas and pirate vests. When we first stepped in, nobody wanted to attend to us and usher us to our table (maybe because although Maffy looked divine with her perfect hair, make-up and skirt, I was on the verge of getting a flu and looked like I just got out of prison no thanks to the pair of pants I pulled off from under my bed and my ratty shirt/olive jacket and chucks.

Now I didn’t know beforehand that the entrees are served family-style, meaning that it’s usually good for several people and you had to share everything. This made me very unhappy. Mostly because I am a very selfish man. A very fat AND selfish man actually. Anyway, as is my routine whenever I try out a new Italian restaurant, I ended up ordering Spaghetti Al Pesto and Pizza (I don’t remember exactly what I ordered, but I distinctly remember the Pizza having generous amounts of spicy salami as topping and it was orgasmawesome)

The pesto was just okay I guess. I mean it wasn’t too dry and didn’t overdo it with the basil which makes it better than a lot of the pesto I’ve tried before but nothing really special. But the Pizza? Hold on a minute. Holy Fucking Shit. I realized early on that il Pirata was all about authenticity–after all, the guy who ushered us to our seat was this quaint middle-aged Italian man with gray hair who reeked strongly of wine–but the Pizza takes it to the next fucking level.It’s very hard to place the Pizza. I know for a fact that it’s cooked in a wood oven as when I first took a bite of the lush, golden brown dough, the sapid essence of wood lingered in my mouth. I mean, it’s nothing like Pizza from Pizza Hut or Yellow Cab, it’s kinda more like that pan of shit they serve at NYFD–only like 100 times more orgasmawesome.

It was that fucking good–There’s actually semen all over the place as I write this and I couldn’t get through a word thinking about it without having a major ejaculation. I don’t know what it is about this Pizza but I’m thinking it must be the tomatoes they use because seriously, I want to marry those tomatoes and those tomatoes and I would live happily ever after because there is nothing I wouldn’t do to have more of them.

Seriously, who would’ve imagined that a combination of baked dough, cheese, spicy salami and herbs could reduce a depressed, fat 25-year-old man into a heap of trembling flesh, crying uncontrollably and loudly thanking Jesus in the middle of a restaurant?

The only real gripe I have with Il Pirata would be on their menu. I mean how the fuck was I supposed to know that Pesce Misto alla Brace is a seafood platter when I clearly don’t know any Italian? You could argue that there’s a description written immediately below the menu entry but come on, who the fuck reads those? Yours truly is a premiere Marketing Strategist and in a span of a mere year, successfully propelled myself into internet stardom and the hearts of women all over the country (actually, mostly in Visayas and for 400 bucks a pop).

If I were to do il Pirata’s Marketing, I would rename their entrees into stuff like “You must’ve done something right to deserve this piece of heaven Pizza” or “If you like Crystal Meth, you’re going to LOVE this spaghetti.”I guess what I’m saying is that il Pirata’s food is fucking awesome and I highly recommend this place. And I am not kidding when I say this: When I return to il Pirata, I will order two Pizzas. Both to myself. I won’t fucking share.

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