After Clyde snagged us an inexpensive last-minute Delta fare, we got up early this morning, jumped on a jet, and found ourselves in Seattle. A phone call or two hooked us up with Turpin and Michelle — good friends we met during our years in Atlanta — and, before we knew it, we were tucked in at an amazing Italian diner: Buca di Beppo ("Joe’s Basement").
Buca di Beppo’s walls are covered with loopy framed photos (example: a beaming nurse advises, "An emena? Great idea!) and bizarre mementos. To get to your table, you traipse through the kitchen, catching a glimpse of bubbling pots and steaming skillets. Once you’re seated in a red leather booth, the staff launches a procession of family-sized entrees,designed to be shared: veggies tossed with pasta and olive oil, fresh pizzas, mozzarella fritters, handmade ravioli in tomato sauce — you name it.
The star of the show? The chocolate cake. Those three words don’t do this dessert justice. Put any memories of factory-produced, frozen Sysco cakes out of your mind. The chocolate cake at Buca di Beppo’s comes in a slab the size of your head. Four moist layers of cake are suspended in butter-creme frosting, then anchored on a platter of thick, hot, liquid fudge.
Pure heaven.
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