Pasta: Angel Hair with Meat Sauce
Side: Chicken and Gnocchi Soup
Side: Chicken and Gnocchi Soup
I woke up to the sound of a text message. It was my mom. “Are we going Olive Garden for lunch?” I thought she was being sarcastic. Ever since she came to terms with me being a comedy writer, she had been telling more jokes.
Her unintentional material worked better, like when she texted “do you like Hamas?” Because she was “at the Farmers Market and there’s lots of Hamas.”
So I ignored it and went back to sleep. Vbbbbbbbb… Vbbbbbbbbbb. Now my mom was calling. She really did want to have to lunch at Olive Garden. Fuck.
Her unintentional material worked better, like when she texted “do you like Hamas?” Because she was “at the Farmers Market and there’s lots of Hamas.”
So I ignored it and went back to sleep. Vbbbbbbbb… Vbbbbbbbbbb. Now my mom was calling. She really did want to have to lunch at Olive Garden. Fuck.
I felt gross. The previous night was spent at Max Karaoke for a friend’s birthday, but I wasn’t hungover. I was sick. I’m not going to blame Olive Garden. This isn’t a Super Size Me situation, I know who got me sick. That said, Spicy Three Meat Linguine doesn’t exactly have a lot of vitamins in it either. Just saying.
I needed fresh air. Being cooped up in my apartment would just make my cold feel worse. I rolled out of bed, got in my mom’s aging SUV, and headed to downtown Glendale.
It was my first time having lunch at Olive Garden. It was packed. The weekend crowd. People looking like they just came from church, dressed to the nines. And then there’s me, wearing the same clothes I slept in, worn out flip flops, and severe bed head. I was taking the “practically living at Olive Garden” aspect of the Pasta Pass to it’s logical conclusion.
It was my first time having lunch at Olive Garden. It was packed. The weekend crowd. People looking like they just came from church, dressed to the nines. And then there’s me, wearing the same clothes I slept in, worn out flip flops, and severe bed head. I was taking the “practically living at Olive Garden” aspect of the Pasta Pass to it’s logical conclusion.
They seated us in a brightly lit section I hadn’t seen before. It had huge windows with a view of busy Brand Boulevard. It was also right next to several tables filled with noisy kids.
My mom, a preschool teacher, shook her head and whispered “I’m around kids every day, I don’t want to see them on the weekend.” I laughed and hoped she would ask if they had any Hamas.
My mom, a preschool teacher, shook her head and whispered “I’m around kids every day, I don’t want to see them on the weekend.” I laughed and hoped she would ask if they had any Hamas.
We met our server, Brad. He was friendly, but it was 11:30am, too early for small talk. He noticed I was updating my mom’s iPhone. “Oh gosh, another update? Come on, Apple! Enough with the updates, amirite?” “Heh. Yeah.”
I told Brad upfront that I had a Pasta Pass. He asked to see it, along with my Drivers License, and took both to his manager. I wondered if too many people had tried borrowing their friend’s passes. After five minutes, Brad returned. “Welcome back, Thomas.”
I told Brad upfront that I had a Pasta Pass. He asked to see it, along with my Drivers License, and took both to his manager. I wondered if too many people had tried borrowing their friend’s passes. After five minutes, Brad returned. “Welcome back, Thomas.”
Normally, I’d be excited for fellow Olive Gardener to know my name, but all I wanted was some soup to wake me up and clear the sinuses. I got the Chicken with Gnocchi and my mom got salad. For my main dish, I went with Angel Hair and Meat Sauce. My mom got Herb Crusted Salmon. I was immediately jealous.
If Olive Garden were ever to do this promotion again, I wish they’d allow for some leeway on what to eat. There are so many non-bowl-of-pasta things I see on the menu that I’m curious about and, who knows, I might enjoy and continue eating after this experiment ends. And yes, they advertise the “150 possible combinations” of the Never Ending Pasta Bowl, but still. Salmon would be nice.
My mom’s gigantic salad came and we split it as usual. The soup was okay, creamy and somewhat flavorful, but wasn’t warm, which was disappointing. It could’ve been the first decent OG thing I’ve eaten in awhile and they let it sit out too long.
My mom’s gigantic salad came and we split it as usual. The soup was okay, creamy and somewhat flavorful, but wasn’t warm, which was disappointing. It could’ve been the first decent OG thing I’ve eaten in awhile and they let it sit out too long.
Our main dishes came. Before I even touched my pasta, I tried some of the salmon. It was well cooked, had a nice crust. The herbs on top were kind of salty, but overall it was easily the best thing I had ever eaten at Olive Garden. I wish I had a Never Ending Salmon Pass. Like a grizzly bear.
I don’t know if it was because I had a cold or if last night’s karaoke made me super hungry, but I inhaled my pasta. It wasn’t even that great, the Angel Hair was overcooked and I greatly prefer the Spicy Three Meat version of this sauce, but I quickly finished my bowl and asked for another. I was excited. I was actually getting Never Ending Pasta.
I don’t know if it was because I had a cold or if last night’s karaoke made me super hungry, but I inhaled my pasta. It wasn’t even that great, the Angel Hair was overcooked and I greatly prefer the Spicy Three Meat version of this sauce, but I quickly finished my bowl and asked for another. I was excited. I was actually getting Never Ending Pasta.
Then I saw the bowl you get when you ask for seconds. It's so much less than the first bowl, and it’s put in this tiny ceramic bowl of sadness, like an optical illusion to make you think you’re getting just as much as before. I know a fistful of pasta when I see it, Olive Garden.
Afterwards, my mom dropped me off at my apartment. She asked if I wanted to go to that huge new Goodwill that just opened on San Fernando. I wondered how she had so much energy. Then I remembered she didn’t have a cold and ate sensible salmon instead of a bowl and a half of pasta like me.
I told her no, some other time. I went inside my apartment, took two Alka-Seltzer, and went to bed, waiting for the next Olive Garden text to wake me from hibernation.
I told her no, some other time. I went inside my apartment, took two Alka-Seltzer, and went to bed, waiting for the next Olive Garden text to wake me from hibernation.