La Fontana: Valentine's Day Massacre

Jamie and I were heading on a road trip to Gatlinburg, TN early the next morning but we still wanted to go out for dinner somewhere local. We’d never been to La Fontana but we both like Italian it was a mile away from our house. She was expecting Waffle House, so I figured my success was inevitable . Then, we arrived. The following is a record of my internal dialogue struggle:

Voice 1: How do I even start on this? If you don’t have something nice to say….

Voice 2: It’s a restaurant blog dipshit. You talk about the food, staff, and ambience.

Voice 1: Hmm, like the booth was comfortable?

Voice 2: No, like they started by bringing out a 1/3 loaf of rock hard bread and said it was all they had right now so just start on this.

Voice 1: Oh come on, it’s just bread, take it easy.

Voice 2. Exactly, how do you f*** up bread?

Voice 1: That’s fair, but the portion size on my chicken parm and Jamie’s chicken piccata were ample.

Voice 2: Hey captain nice guy, if they shoveled 10 lbs of dog shit on your plate, would you be happy because it was “ample”?

Voice 1: What about our waiter? He brought us free limoncello?

Voice 2: Yea, I liked him.

Voice 1: And when he said “sorry about that crack rock” when referring to the glob of parmesan cheese he poured on my plate.

Voice 2: Ha, yea and he was Mexican. Ok, I'll give you that one.

Voice 1: The bottom line is we had fun, our waiter was cool, and I am not dropping down to your level of negativity.

Voice 2: The place probably has a 1.9 on Yelp.