Last night I did something very uncharacteristic for me. I went downtown with a girlfriend. Just. For. Fun. She went to Greece earlier this year and came back telling me all about her awesome travels. She told me how she fell in love with Gelato and ate it just about every day when she was there. Well, can I tell you all, my cultured friends, I, being the uncultured swine that I am, had never ever eaten Gelato. Until last night. I knew what it was but I had never tasted of its flavorful bounty.
After her fabulous descriptions of the yumminess of Gelato, I could not sleep at night for the thought that I might never taste this stuff since I just don’t foresee going to Greece or Italy or whereever else they might sell Gelato, at least not any time soon. So a quick Google search turned up a place right here in Calgary that simply had to be visited. Fiasco Gelato. So last night we headed downtown. And do you think I’d go to such a place without my camera? I think not!
The place has a fun modern-retro feel to it.
They had yummy looking tins of espresso for sale.
When we got to the counter we discovered the many tempting flavors. How is one to make a choice when one is given so many options?
But then, fortunately we discovered this beautiful fact. If you order a medium, you get two flavors. If you order a large, you get three! My brave friend dove right in and ordered a large.
I think she liked it…
I got hazelnut and tiramisu.
I think I liked it too. I think I liked it a lot. I think I have a new favorite thing.
Soon this was all that was left.
Two thumbs up. Two empty cups.
Slowly emerging from uncultured swinehood feels good. I highly recommend it to all of my fellow uncultured swine. Eventually we will all be cultured swine and then… well, I don’t know how much better off we will be but at least we will know what we had been missing all along. Won’t that be nice?
I had to take a couple of pictures as we walked along the hip happening street on which our Gelato place is located.
First I saw this.
Because nothing says, “Come into our very cultured store and buy our wares,” quite like inflatable elk heads and small deer figurines do. Wouldn’t you agree? (By the way, that whole uncultured swine bit…. not true at all.)
And then I saw this.
Nothing communicates, “Come and let us pluck your brows into
oblivion fine form,” like giant colorful poof balls. Really. Don’t they just shout “EYEBROWS!” at you? They do for me.
Then I saw a place called “Tubby Dog.” I’m guessing (using my keen powers of intellect) that it’s a hot dog joint. But I have to ask, when I think of places like Tubby Dog and places like Fat Burger… what is the sense in referring to chub and chunk and that enemy of the peoples, FAT, when naming your restaurant? People of the world!! I ask you this question! Will no one give me an answer?
Here is a place that every hipster wants to be apparently. It’s all the rage. It’s the bees knees. It’s the spot. It’s. It’s. It’s really red, isn’t it?
The minute after I shot this picture a jumble toothed vagrant man jumped in front of my camera and said through a chuckle, “What? Don’t you want a picture of the nexsht prime minishter of Canada?!”
He was annoyed when I shook my head.