Kimo, Mali Zub and I were over at Uncle (I mean Goombah) Jim's tonight for dinner. As always, Goombah Jim had quite the feast for our burgeoning taste buds, complete with a few bottles of very nice Italian wine (why is it always a good red that does us in?). A very fine pasta maker he is (yup, homemade), and he makes a pretty mean (world-famous, I hear) chicken marsala, not to mention biscotti from scratch (what's that? A manly man who makes biscotti? Yup. And no, he's not gay. Really.).
His food is SO good, in fact, we're thinking about having a Goombah Jim benefit...as in: we've got a live one for you, ladies. That's right: you can borrow him, but you've got to give him back (because otherwise, what would we poor peasants eat? Luckily, Goombah Jim takes pity on our Peasant Family and bestows his culinary graces upon us on a regular basis. Otherwise, we'd wither away from store-bought ravioli....) And they're some pretty tasty culinary treats, let me tell you. As in: you'll cry, you'll weep, you'll tell your friends (and maybe even your mother).
So whaddya say? Interested in Goombah (I mean Uncle) Jim? Our smart, educated, nice, smart-mouthed Italian-American friend? Interested? Our live auction starts...
now.