I wanna talk about food

Mostly because I don't want to think about starting school and being overwhelmed with all that's about to go down.

And the first thing I don't want to think about is the fact that I used the incorrect zip code when I ordered my books. Autofill, you suck.

This is summer special bruschetta at Venturi. You've never heard of Venturi? Well, it's a fancy-schmancy little place in Goshen, Indiana. The food is fresh. The servers are delightful. The atmosphere will make you smile.

I ate there and then decided that I can only be with a man who is willing to discuss the differences in the heirloom tomatoes, a man who will talk about the acidity added by the lemon-olive oil rather than a balsamic-olive oil, a man who will share all his food and will order two desserts because that's my favorite part.

Or I need friends to fulfill this need in me.

OR I can blog about it and force it upon you.

You're welcome.

This pizza took approximately 90 seconds to cook. I have no words besides all the ones I can say about wanting to eat it again: I want to eat it again.

Can we talk about dessert?

Tiramisu. Holy crap.

Nutella pizza. It's like they know my deep, dark, not-so-secret desires.

Americanos that taste like Italy.
Mozzerella [fior de latte] made freshly that day.
Crust to die for.
Tomatoes seasoned with salt, pepper, and torn basil leaves. 

A slice of heaven is in Goshen, Indiana. Who knew? 

Back to reality and worrying about textbooks and parking and uniforms and bills.