Friday, August 14, 2015

The Spaghetti Warehouse

I spent most of my childhood in Englewood, Ohio, a suburb of what I thought was the thriving metropolis of Dayton. I still remember how I felt at seeing the "skyscrapers" of the city on the occasions we went there. It seems funny to me today, having been to many of the world's great cities with skyscrapers that seem to go to the moon. I'm also reminded that most people don't shed the impressions of the surroundings of their childhood; there are people in the suburbs of Dayton today who still consider Dayton a big city. They should get out more.

As children of the suburbs, it was a special treat to go to Dayton. We didn't know that it was a post-industrial wasteland; it had tall buildings and a lot more people than we were used to seeing and it had a sort of magic to it that only a child can see in such a place that has seen such economic trauma. In the eighties, remnants of Dayton's finer days were still around: Rikes, the Arcade, and yes, the Spaghetti Warehouse.

It lives.

Yesterday a guy on Twitter posted that he ate there. I was very happy to learn that it still existed. My grandparents would take us there for special occasions like birthdays and we always loved to go, not just for the spaghetti, but for the trip to Dayton and for the candy sticks. I don't remember much about the place, but I do remember the candy sticks at the checkout. I always got the root beer flavor. Jars of candy sticks like they had back when candy was simpler sat there as enticing as the spaghetti itself. We always got to take some home.

I don't know if the food is any good; I haven't been there as an adult with an experienced palette so for all I know it could be like Chef Boy R D. But if it's still there are these years later, it must be pretty good.

I mean, how can you not love a place called "Spaghetti Warehouse?"

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