|This bowl of fruit just arrived, gratis|
Another visit home to care for Mom, another opportunity to stuff my face until it hurts.
Although visits home are typically when the worst comes out, the most recent trip to suburban Detroit yielded a surprise worth mentioning.
Mom and I went to Moro’s. The restaurant has a long history in the suburbs south of Detroit. My generation took dates there before a big school dance like the prom.
It’s tiny, dark and cozy, with white linen tablecloths and waiters in tuxedos, even on a Tuesday night. The waiters mix the salad at your table.
The menu is not, in itself, diet friendly. It’s heavy on classic red-sauce Italian dishes like veal parmesan, chicken cacciatore and fettuccine Alfredo, even though there are a few dishes like broiled cod.
I was in full, face-stuff mode and went for the cannelloni. I hadn’t had it in years. It was meaty, both inside the pasta shells and from the thick bolognese. Mom had veal picante. The Greek salad we ordered was drenched in olive oil by an artistic swing of the server’s arm, but I didn’t have the heart to stop his show.
But what surprised and delighted us: at the end of the meal, a bowl of fresh fruit and nuts arrives, courtesy of the house. Perhaps it costs them a few dessert orders. More likely, it inspires gratitude from folks like The Restaurant Dieter and the dessert eaters still pass it by for the cherries jubilee.
Way to go Moro’s.