Tuesday, March 23, 2010

The manager of the T Mobile store in Charleston SC where I bought my Blackberry insisted that, if we were going to Atlantic City, we eat at Angelos, so eat we did.

Angelo's Fairmount Grill is an Atlantic City landmark since the 30s. The portions there are hefty, the service fast and friendly, Jersey style friendly, which is to say a little curt but well intentioned. My son, who is a complete retro freak, was instantly charmed by the signed pictures of Sammy Davis, Wayne Newton and Steve and Edie (whose identity I had to explain) hanging over our red checkered table and the

mug shot of Frank Sinatra from 1938 hanging on the wall in the men's room. (Now there you go, Ladies. How about those eyes, eh? On the men's room wall no less, taken by my MI-5 minded son.) Dinner was okay, my shrimp fra diavolo way too hot and nothing to Bruce Hvasta's fra diavolo at the old Luigi's in Yardley, PA, but the place and the clientele were all so delightful and merry we loved it anyway. (New Jersey Italian men are the most shameless, fun flirts.) T's manicotti was without question the lightest thing on earth, lovely. Family style salads (romaine, I requested it rather than iceberg), chicken picante nice if a little girthy, and the chicken parm, well I just don't comment on dishes that I associate with strange places that were once called"italian-american restaurants". But I loved the place.

Understand that it was raining last night, cats and dogs at times, and here at the shore the wind can blow like crazy. Our evening started out with a futile attempt by four total gambling ingenues/James Bond suaveness wannabees (us) to find the entrance to the golden mecca of the Borgata Tower, where, we were informed on line, we would find Star Wars slots, games of chance eagerly anticipated by W and A. After much winding around parking lots and snaking newly paved roads with little signage in the blowing rain, we parked the car outside (garage parking reserved for employees, of which there must be thousands given the size of the garages) in a lot and tried to gauge how bad the rain would get by the time we gambled, got outta there, and headed to dinner. We wimped out completely and headed instead to Angelo's for dinner, laughing at our stab at gambling savvy as "Nerds Night Out".

We may try to find the Borgata entrance again this morning after breakfast and a walk on the beach, although rain threatens again. The gleaming towers of this gambling paradise, this homage to filthy lucre every bit as crass as Wall Street, looked strangely futuristic in the gathering fog last night as it obscured the top floors of shimmering towers of Harrah's and the Borgata. Like something out of Bladerunner.

Can't wait to try again....

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