"A bottle of red, a bottle of white. . ."

Two points for whomever can guess the title's reference.

In any case, can I just say that I love Italian restaurants? Not I-talian restaurants, but really good, really local, really . . . GOOD Italian restaurants. I got the opportunity to venture out, mit kein Kinder, on a date night. Now, of course, being me, this meant that we had to try out a local restaurant, mull over some wine or cocktails, and eat at a leisurely stroll rather than a breakneck run. We decided on Italian and headed out toward Canton.

Luckily, we found a great little place called Sylvester's North Side Grille. Normally I'd make some comment about the "e" on the end, but in this case it was well worth the extra letter. We walked in the door and the manager/maitre d' advised to grab a drink at the bar and he'd seat us within 20 minutes. So after nursing a Maker's Mark and Coke, we were seated very quickly in a cozy booth.

What followed was a cavalcade of deliciousness. Or deliciosity. Whatever it was, it was divine. And it was all washed down with a lovely Banfi Reservo Chianti Classico. Everything tastes better with Chianti. Including, apparently, fava beans and some poor sap's liver.

Er, ANYway. . .

First off, calamari. Now, this was not your typical grab-a-handful-of-frozen-squid-and-deepfry-it calamari. This was lovingly sautéed with red peppers, green peppers, onions, and pickled Cubanelle peppers. Excellent. Salad, of course, with a lovely vinaigrette, mopped up with homemade bread. Then, I had the best chicken piccata I have ever had, which included artichokes, capers, a white wine sauce, and lemon zest. Oh, and fresh parsley. Alex had chicken parmigiana, which looked delicious, too. I won't rhapsodize over his food, because, well, I didn't eat it.

There was absolutely no way I could eat dessert, which was a shame since I was celebrating losing 41 pounds, but I'm sure I'll get to sometime.

"A bottle of white, a bottle of red, perhaps a bottle of Rosé instead. . . "