Last night, I had a jones for this:
It's Pagliacci Pizza's house salad. I'm not sure how they put this together, much less came up with the ingenious ingredient combo, but it's fast becoming a favorite. The Dijon dressing is to-die for, paired perfectly with red bell pepper, tiny squares of Salumi salami, Kasseri cheese, red bell pepper, red onion, and what looks like some bib lettuce. The salad is so good that it makes the garbanzo beans more than tolerable, and I normally can't stand garbanzo beans.
Well, what I should've done, if I were a normal, size six, healthy adult female, was order a large Pagliacci salad for me and the cheese pizza for my son.
But I'd always been curious about Pagliacci's seasonal asparagus, the one with Prosciutto. Only, I found myself going for the Asparagus Primo because the operator suggested it and I thought it combined well with bread crumbs and Parmesan. I expected it to come in a nice little salad bowl, like a side vegetable, these gleaming, olive-oiled asparagus spears.
Here's what it really looked like:
Am I the biggest dummy or what? It's called Pagliacci Pizza, not Pagliacci Ristorante (although in the Queen Anne district of Seattle, it is more of a restaurant, where you can get pastas with different sauces with your pizzas).
I also threw in a Nonna's Pasta, because I was also curious about this baked penne dish with five cheeses (like Ina Garten's), but with grilled chicken chunks. I should've known better. I'm still not in an Italian pasta mood. At all.
The asparagus pizza was too heavy for me. But then, I didn't reheat it so the mozzarella (no Parmesan, just Romano) got cold and congealed, like snot on cardboard. Way way too heavy and rich. I barely ate two slices, but I devoured my small salad (small because the over-ordering cost me over $48).
I'm hungry now. But I don't want any part of the Pagliacci leftover. I never learn.