Valentine's Day, Part II

So, a couple of weeks ago, my roommates and I decided to be each other's Valentines. We decided a couple days ago that it would be nice if Michelle (our roommate who cooks delicious food) would cook instead of going out to eat. Michelle actually suggested it. She decided to do like a five course meal. So she looked up what she wanted to cook and she and I set out to get the ingredients while the other roommates printed out the recipe, got dessert, and bought champagne. Michelle had wanted to cook veal osso bucco so we went on a mission to find a butcher. Constantino, the cafe owner next to our apartment gave us directions to one near our house. Constantino is really funny because when he says things in English he doesn't have much of an accent so it fools you into thinking his English is really good. When in fact, I think he has maybe just conquered three or four conversations....his wife is the same way. So you ask them a question, they say something in English that makes you think they knew what you were saying, and then they launch into a whole schpeal (sp.?) in Italian involving hand gestures and dramatic expressions, and then they finish and my roommates and I look at each other and are just like, "O.K. thank you. Grazie, ciao." We've done this many times. So this time Michelle and I were able to pick out the word of a street and that we had to turn left....so we found the butcher. Now this guy was a hard core butcher. The store is so full of red meat that there is a red glow that emits from the store into the street. He has a big boar's head hanging on the doorway and a table on the ground set with stuffed pigs sitting around eating together. Now usually when we go into a store and say,"parle inglese?" (do you speak English?) the store clerk says, " a little". This time I said, "Parle inglese?" and the butcher (wearing a white apron spackled in blood and bone fragments) says with a very apethetic expression on his face, "No." Ok then. Fortunately, he knew osso bucco and we could understand how much it costs. He went into the back room and you hear him sawing away and he comes back even more covered in grossness with the meat. He splats it in some paper, wraps it up, puts it in the bag, and hands it over the counter. And then we left, abruptly.
The dinner however turned out to be unbelievably delicious and after eating five courses, drinking wine and champagne and finishing off dessert, we were like 6 beached whales (our friend Kat came over too). We watched some grey's anatomy and went to bed, all sleeping like the dead. Over all, it was a very delicious Valentine's day.