V and I have been together for so long we do not really go on dates anymore. I’m not saying it like it’s a bad thing. We go about our daily lives like a Siamese twin most of the time that it just feels normal to commute, eat, shop, or watch a movie together.
On a Sunday a few months ago we went to Pizzeria Mozza, a fancy Italian restaurant at Marina Bay Sands for lunch. Because we do not have the habit to go to fancy restaurants (As much as we’d love to develop a taste for expensive food with names we cannot pronounce, I’m afraid the formative years of cheap street food have done their irreversible damage), it felt like a special occasion. We even showered.
We decided to give our brains a break (which is a pathetic front for we cannot tell what is what on the menu) and let the waiter pick items off the menu for us. What came as an appetizer was a mutated-looking vegetable. Or a chopped body part of a reptile. It’s impossible to be sure. It tasted all right, so we soon stopped guessing.
We waited for the main course in trepidation, but it turned out to be a pizza. Looked so normal too, it was almost disappointing. It was cooked in a traditional wood-fired brick oven, which was impressive, but V and I grew up with Pizza Hut. All other pizzas are just trying too hard.