Van Bol & Feste - Milan

Full Stomach Revenge, Cont'd
I don't eat a lot.  Matter of fact, for a food blogger I'm a disgrace.  In Milan, however, I flipped it.  Maximum jealousy potential, remember?  Van Bol e Feste fit the bill - just the kind of schwank-a-billy place the fancy-Dodo likes.  Counting Sugar, I was two-fer-two.

I bounded off the tram and barged in like a cocky American, surveyed the dozens of possibilities and quickly settled on a brioche with chocolate innards.  I mean, come on, I've been with this chick for years, I know what it takes to get her goat.

I sat behind the bar and gleefully dismembered it.  I must have looked like a wolf with a small helpless creature.  Wisps of powdered sugar sprayed the table as I shook my head after each bite.  I didn't slow to wipe the chocolate mustache, just kept biting and smiling.  "Here's JOHNNY!!"

This madman stood out amongst the well-dressed crowd.  Drained my Illy in one inhale.  Didn't even brush off the crumbs, just stood up, jogged out the front door, looking for my next victim.

Largo Cairoli
Milano

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