This meal was somewhat of a celebratory event. You see...the time had come for THIS to be chopped. That would be The Mullet....The Rat Tail....The Hockey-Head-Haircut. The hair-growing started innocently but the path Jenson's hairstyle had forged, outstayed its welcome. Against his daddy's wishes, I took Jenson in for a (third) haircut and we went old school. As in Carroll Gardens Brooklyn old-school and had Margaret, an Italian neighborhood staple, show his mullet who was boss. In-between her steady, verbal streams of "Lover Boy" and magical scissor snips...the mullet he had been patiently growing...err...his whole life was gone. We both needed to soak in the moment and that always calls for pasta, wine, and water in a sippy sup. Right outside the shop, we saw Fragole. It was clearly a sign.
His daddy met us there and nearly walked by his own son. It's amazing how the absence of a stringy hair tail can really change one's look. We went with the Orechhiette Barese which was a dish of pasta with Italian sweet sausage, light tomato sauce, rosemary and sage. Brussels sprouts with a whole lot of pancetta, garlic and olive oil and a cheese and veggie platter. The key take away is if you want to get your kid to eat brussel sprouts, just camouflage them with a whole lot of pig product. The food was fabulous, simple and comforting. All the words one could have used to describe Jenson's old hairstyle. But we toasted to a new chapter that night.