Alright, here's the update on dinner. And, just to throw it in there, a little bit of a dilemma.
Eventually the boyfriend did put some clothes on (he had just gotten out of the shower, I swear!) and open the cabinets, in search of dinner. But, seeing as how the only thing in the cabinets was Oreos and take-out menus (and I don't think Oreos were an ingredient in carbonara), we decided to order some delivery.
Now, the thing about my neighborhood is that there are hundreds of places that deliver. At least 10 pizza-and-or-Italian places. And, there's one company that will pick-up food from any restaurant and deliver it for an almost-reasonable fee. But, truth is, none of them are great. Most of the pizza is so-so at best, we can't find decent Chinese, and most of the other places that deliver are really expensive. (Last time, we ordered 2 sandwiches, and the total was over $40. Seriously.)
Which is weird, because where I grew up, in the 'burbs, there was one pizza place that delivered, and one Chinese place that delivered, but they were both cheap and delicious. You'd think in a nice big city, we'd have more options (and we do), but they're just not that good.
Anyway, we eventually picked out an Italian place that we had never tried before. Boyfriend got spaghetti and meatballs, and I told him, "First ask if they have carbonara. If they don't, I'll take the chicken and linguini alfredo."
He gets on the phone and I hear him say,
"Do you have any carbonara sauce?"
then a pause, and then
"Well, it's a cream sauce. With bacon."
When the Italian place doesn't know what carbonara is... that's a bad sign, right?
So, he orders the alfredo. It'll be a half-hour. We sit around and wait. We watch an entire episode of The West Wing. And wait some more. So boyfriend calls back, and asks how much longer it'll be.
"It should only be a few minutes, the delivery guy left a little while ago."
A few minutes later, the doorbell rings. And the driver reeks of alcohol. Or, as the police report would read, "Strong odor of alcohol on breath. Eyes red and watery. Balance unsteady."
Anyway, we ate the dinner. Boyfriend reports that his spaghetti was "ok," but my alfredo was delicious. It was just what I needed. Oh, and we got some cheesey garlic bread - that was really yummy.
I was wondering, though... if it were you... (and you were a criminal defense attorney, which, in my mind, doesn't mean that you don't think anyone should go to jail, you just think your own clients shouldn't go to jail, but in general, it also means you also don't believe in snitches)... would you say anything or do anything about the drunk delivery driver that's probably going to driving around your neighborhood all night? I mean, not necessarily calling the police, but maybe calling his employer?
Maybe the employer (the restaraunt) would want to cover for him and deny it. (For all I know, it could be the owner's brother or something). In which case, if I ever wanted alfredo again, they'd probably spit in it (or worse). Or the driver would just never come.
But on the other hand, it's a potentially dangerous situation. That driver, especially given that he's making deliveries, reading the delivery slips and looking for house numbers or whatnot, could do some damage.
But on the other hand (yes, I have 3 hands, live with it), who am I to be a snitch?
And, also, if you were the owner or proprieter of the neighborhood Italian place, wouldn't you want to know if your delivery guy was drinking on the job? Then again, maybe he does know. I mean, he probably sees the delivery guy in between deliveries. Heck, maybe the delivery guy sits at the bar and drinks red wine between deliveries, I don't know.
I don't know. What do you guys think?
p.s., Thank you for the recipes, I will get around to making carbonara eventually. After the next grocery delivery.