The call of newly cooked pasta is a precious voyage my nostrils shall have no problem in embarking in.
Primi Piati in Bloemfontein, is home to the most mouth-licking dishes and a powerhouse of youthful and electric alcohol/non-alcohol cocktails.
When there is raining pouring outside, a steamy meal is what one needs. It took no longer than a few seconds did my mother and I's brain-bones functioned the same thought and "Primi", did our minds vocalized!
With no sign, did our stomachs sang the song of hunger, we streamed to the warehouse-loft-countryhouse-club restaurant and booked a table for two - we should have booked for four because of our soldier-driven food pumpers!
A vigor waitress come to our rescue and recommended the caranobal and recco de pallo - with swiftness did our stomachs accept.
The Caranobal was a pasta, filled with nicely cut chicken fillets, homemade tomato sauce with red wine and colour-screaming peppers. The dish was simple but took a being to a intimate ride of food "HIGH". My gut was sing songs of joy, my mouth salivating and my naked eyes displaying great relish.
On the other hand, mother was swiped from diet-cautiousness and immediately indulged in her Italian pasta dish. It was graced with white sauce mixed with white wine, black olives and chicken.
She did not mind pumping a few carbs because the sacrifice was worthwhile. Her eyes depicted awe but her hands were in a "battle of the fastest", sighing was the only display of happiness and gut satisfaction.
Her face was covered in sauce but she did not care to look because once a Primi dish has you captive just glide with eternal food bondage because it always comes when you see orange at the waterfront.
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