I Am Stromboli
Thursday, August 25th, 2005It’s me, no calzone nor canneloni, and not pizza or pasta definitely. I’m not the common Italian food you know because I’m rarely on the counter. Men would not bother to order me through phone and be delivered 30 minutes after. Then again, today it’s time for me to meet everybody.
The gentle hands of my creator molded me from dough, just like a small pizza. I was made thinner through the help of Mr. Rolling Pin. Italian sauce spread over me, I can’t tell what type exactly. It’s filled with spices that will tingle the human tongue. Then, a line pepperoni was laid over me, added a little cheese for variety. Can’t tell if there were onions with it, but I can sense a taste of garlic.
Roll, roll, roll we go, rolled like a blindfold. Although I look like a flat burrito, I’m not yet done until someone says I’m his paborito. I’m not sure if I was baked or fried. I was never told that I’m one oily guy. As far as I can remember, I was served sliced across, kinda like fat tonkatsu with no bread crumbs.
"Put me on my plate now", I said in excitement. Beside me, a cup of dip greeted me. She’s a spiced-up tomato sauce, or is it salsa dong? So, somebody is telling I’m not tasty? You haven’t tried me yet so don’t fret.
When consumed, you can take off the outer layer and dip me in to the sauce. You will feel the crunch and the garlic taste of my bread. My inner layer is softer, but the luscious pepperoni and cheese combo complements it. It’s like there’s a hidden sandwich in me.
You can’t consider me as a meal since I’m a little light, but it’s too much if I’m paired with spaghetti. Don’t eat me alone, I’m better off shared with another.
Try me, because it’s me, Stromboli.
