Monday, December 6, 2010

Going Mad?

Einstein once quipped "Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results". Now I wouldn't quite go that far in characterizing my return to Enoteca Sociale given my relatively disappointing first visit. I wanted to see if their regular offerings was worth the money as compared to their prix fixe meals. For the appetizer I tried Ontario buffalo mozzarella, anchovies, eggplant, caper and black olive. It was tasty especially the salty anchovies. I honestly don't recall any olives in that dish. Perhaps the kitchen forgot. For the main, I had spaghetti and sausage. The spaghetti was perfectly al dente and creamy while the thin bits of sausage were rich and meaty. The ingredients are home-made and good quality but when you spend $25 (pre-tax and tip) and are still hungry afterwards, Enoteca might push that nonna-approved homey feel but it's not a restaurant the average person can frequent regularly. I'm still holding out for an Italian girl who comes with her own Nonna.

Afterward, I wandered over to Lula Lounge to catch some 80s a cappella goodness from retrocity. I debated whether or not to go, as I think they put on their best shows in smaller venues such as the Clinton. The space was mostly empty with the actual tables only 3/4 filled. Contrast this with the last time I caught them here where it was standing room up to the door. It's a little too much like dinner theatre for me.

The set opened promisingly with a cheesy rendition of the Live Aid "classic" Do They Know It's Christmas. It had a cheeky energy, even if they are dressed in Christmas party outfit instead of their typical 80s fashion disaster. However, outside of 1-2 other 80s songs, they primarily showcased songs from their Michael Jackson set (Man in the Mirror, Michael medley) and their recent Queen/Police work (I'm Going Slightly Mad, Show Must Go On, Message In a Bottle, Don't Stand So Close To Me). They are technically great as always, but without the enthusiastic crowd response to feed off, there's no oomph to the evening.

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