When I was in my thirties and forties, my parents and I would take extended weekend trips to places that weren't exactly next door, but weren't that far - like to Toronto, Montreal, Vermont.
On the way to Toronto, we stopped off at, among other places, Rome, New York, the place in which I was born (and which made me the only one in my immediate family not to be born in NYC). My parents decided that we would dine at the restaurant in which they used to eat fairly regularly when they lived there, but especially beloved by my mom during the four months before I was born. It is called The Savoy.
When we entered, my parents were amused to see that the tables bore the same red and white checkered tablecloths they remembered from more than thirty years before. The place had expanded and so had its menu, but there were still many dishes they recognized.
I took a look at the menu. Without a lot of thought, I ordered the Spaghetti Savoy - spaghetti with sausage, mushrooms and green peppers in marinara sauce.
My mom looked at me. "That's what I used to order when I came here when I was pregnant with you," she said, amazed. "It was my favorite."
"I guess I developed a taste for it then," I joked.
Great food, and The Savoy still seems to be one of the most popular restaurants -and Italian Restaurants- in North Central NY State.
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