If the weather cooperates, we will eat like royalty today here in The Rose of New England, Norwich (CT) and we’ll be spoiled for choice while doing so.
Practically across the street from my house, though I suspect the organizers didn’t necessarily have that in mind while planning it, is the “Healthy Living Festival” which (admit it) is a very catchy title and sounds way cooler than just about anything you or I (but especially me) might come up with.
As someone who is reputed to carry with him the only known manufactured version of the Swiss Army Spork (a story never proved, by the way, and, no, you cannot check my pockets) I like that someone, somewhere, worries about what it is I choose to eat since I’m a lot more universalist even in my dotage, than many would prefer. And, yes, to return to an earlier point, that I don’t have to work up an appetite walking to the festival is certainly an argument in its favor.
In my house, we’ve had it on the calendar for weeks and months (usually scribbled in marinara sauce, truth be told) is the Taste of Italy where the eating gets in tents.
Did you see what I did there? Must be the Alfredo sauce talking, I suspect.
If you stand near the entrance of Howard T. Brown Park for ten minutes or so in the course of the Taste you will see people you very likely last saw at last year’s event, the food is just that good and the appeal is so overwhelming that, like moths to a flame, we show up, napkins tucked under our chins, or in our pockets (if our wives have had anything to do with dressing us), following our noses and ready to enjoy mouthwatering deliciousness.
I think I may have just gained three pounds writing that paragraph, not that this is a good day to get on a scale and see how true that statement might be. Technically, it’s still summer and in likelihood in your neck of the woods there’s a festival or two going on, so bring your appetite and grab a large plate for a heaping helping of a bigsmorgasbordwunderwerk.