Dear Quince --
I had a great time with you a few days ago. You really made my birthday one to remember. I will never forget the octopus that so delightfully reminded me of my mother's brisket. So smooth, so smoky. It brought about such lovely memories and cognitive dissonance since, it was, you know, octopus.
Then our evening spent tasting one pasta and then another and then another and then -- gasp! -- another yet! I know that we didn't go all the way and I'll indulge in an entree when we go out again. But I was just getting to know you. Your garganelli with smoked trout; your agnolotti del plin; fettuccini with sweetbreads and mushrooms (oh your sweetbreads!) and then finally, the sweetest of them all, the raviolo. Who would think to put an egg on top? Only you, Quince, only you. Until I see you next, I'll be thinking only of you.