Mann Review: The Tuscan Garble and The Mann March
On Saturday November 12th around 7:32pm (the day before the lord's day), I suddenly collapsed. A thousand muffled carnyx and the garbled voice of Constantine rang true in my ear. "Hark, a trusty protectorate lies above the fabled ancient city." Shaking violently and erratically, entirely soaked, and completely and utterly indisposed for a fortnite, I pondered the words of the Emperor wraith. All the while, the shambled fans of Mann began their solemn shoeless march.
I beheld the working man, worn to skin and bone.
Three hundred starving children, all without a home.
Liar, beggar, pauper, prince, a march around my rusted fence,
all flagellate in hopes that they atone.
I unlatched the sill, and creaked the encrusted window to bear witness. I spoke (in Ex Cathedra): "Disperse, fans of Mann. Your prayers have been answered. Tonight, we dine in Tuscany!"
Primum era: Décor
The primum thing one will notice is the double windowed doors washed of their spoilage by a trained Italian hand. Preceding the second set of clean double windowed doors is what I like to call the "standing room." I was then whisked forth through the second set of double windowed doors and entered into the diner room. The hanging iridescent globules provided ample warmth to the heavily wooded interior. Angular, modern, and chic, I was pleasantly pleased by the moderate modernity.
Décor Mann Score: 4.2/5
Secundus era: Service
After being promptly sat, the countdown began. Tick...tick. I was approached by a gentlemen of slender, clean build. My waiter helped me to navigate the extensive menu and pointed my frothed tongue in the right direction. Tick tick. The prefare arrived with relative alacrity, but was eaten three eons before even a scent of the primefare was readily discernable. Tick Tick. Surely Rome was built quicker than this! Tick Tick. The wise man from yesteryear has long since went to his watery grave. TICK TICK! Alas, the lamb shank and the storied carbonara. Constantine whipping round in his grave gives the twice foretold "prophet murmur", heard from here to the edge of the Kuiper Belt. The clock hands have long since melted. The ticks have long since been forgotten, but I am ready for the main course.
Service Mann Score: 2.6/5
Tertia era: Food
The board of flesh and ferment was scrumptious and delectable. I saw a phantom in the rafters. Presented beautifully to me, were two dishes. One being the presaged shank o' lamb, and the dreamt of carbonara. One bite of thee creamy carbonara set my brain to fever pitch. The al dente noodles were of the perfect texture and size. To compliment this oral festival were seven coiled crustaceans. These warmed tidbits were of extraordinary pedigree. The wise old man told me of two distinct spots in the big blue east, where trawlers clashed and foundered in search of such a treasured meat. These were pulled from those waters.
The lamb shank, the sullied centerpiece; an island crowned in a laurel wreath. The pork potato medley was of exceptional texture and taste, which cannot be said of the lamb. For what agony this lamb endured, I envisioned a better, more tasteful fate. This hunk of meat was befitting of a backwater tavern. Subpar.
Lastly, the postmeal (NC Apple Crostata) was a pleasant, non-cloying delight. I swear to God I saw the apples waltz upon the plate; Our joys intertwined.
Food Mann Score: 4/5
The non-garbled Constantine speaks clearly now. I awake to a Tuscan sunrise. The fans of Mann, a world away, asleep in healing slumber.
Mann aggregate: 3.6/5
Yelp Rounded Score: 4/5 read more