Eating at Lotsa Pasta was one the highlights of my high school experience, which is saying a lot, to be honest. It was an Italian joint located in a shack across from my high school. For $6 and displaying your student ID, you could get a bowl of pasta, any shape and sauce, with unlimited garlic bread and a fountain drink.
It was the black hole that consumed the vast majority of my allowance during my upperclassmen years at San Ramon Valley High. If it was located in Los Angeles, it would've gotten a C grade. Which makes sense because today, I found out that Lotsa Pasta has been shut down by the health inspector due to vermin infestations and a part of me now feels like its missing. This is an open letter to my beloved Italian dive ...
Dear Lotsa Pasta,
Thank you for being there for me. It saddens me that you have to go — especially since Hartz Avenue is being taken over by healthy places like Gotta Eata Pita. (What kind of corny name is that?). I had to take a food safety class for my major that made me scared to get food poisoning. When I found out you got shut down, I realized that there was nothing to be afraid of. Sure, you weren't the cleanest. But, I never got sick eating your food. I think that's something to be proud of.
I'll miss bounding out of my fourth-period history class with Mr. Busboom and dashing all the way over to your shack to avoid the throngs of other hungry juniors and seniors. On days where I didn't have my school ID to show to Tony, I would either sneak onto the Iron Horse Trail from behind the H Hall classrooms or leave when he biked off to another part of campus. I'll miss the dim lighting of your little shack and I'll miss having to sneak behind the counter in order to get more soda. (You guys allowed this. But, it was only because the fountain faced the kitchen.)
I'll miss Tom and his hospitality. I'll miss how he would always ask us our names and what we were planning to do after high school. I would proudly tell you and you would nod in approval. He was always supportive no matter what we're doing, and I'll always appreciate that.
I'll miss the way your pesto tasted. I'll miss how smooth and creamy it was and I'll miss watching you guys make it. The garlic bread was a real treat because I would always give it to my underclassmen friends who were stripped of their right to off-campus cuisine. My hat goes off to them because they had to deal with waiting in line for packaged chicken patty sandwiches and soggy curly fries day in and day out.
Finally, I'll miss the giant jar of licorice that was perched atop your dessert counter. I'll miss being that guy who took a handful to munch on during my sixth-period theatre production class. Thank for not judging me for that. I'll always be grateful.
None of the food at Cal Poly Pomona compares to what you guys served. If we want decent food, we have to trudge up the hill and dine on $30 plates at the restaurant at Kellogg Ranch. No one who is financially sane in their right mind is going to do that. So, of course, we're stuck with the Denny's affiliate and the grocery store filled with processed items to cook in our microwaves. I miss your home-cooked delights. I always will. I hope you're doing well in the great big shopping centre in the sky.
- Evan
