Bravo, Mario!

The massage I got yesterday was "so-so." The therapist spent so much time at the end rubbing my face, head and temples that I had to resist just coming out and asking what the hell he was accomplishing there. Seriously, I thought at any second he was going to beep my nose, too. 

The experience at Otto is a different story -- Mario Batali knows how to do pizza. Between the two of us, we ate four small appetizers, a plate of cured meat, three pizzas and a dish of olive oil gelato. ALL of it. Oh, and a bottle of wine, plus one quartino, since we ran out during the third pizza and we couldn't have that. The gluttony began at 3 PM yesterday and I'm only starting to think about eating again right now. It's like 7:30 AM.