Reviewing Miami and then some. Gratuitous vulgarity included.

Ristorante Fratelli Milano

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Italian food is very similar to Mexican food. They both have like 4 ingredients which they rearrange to create 1,863 dishes. Plus their flags look identical minus the seal. And look around Jersey, those guidos look like Mexicans with no work ethic. Coincidence?

Italian food is very similar to Mexican food.

Fratelli Milano is yet another Italian restaurant that serves the same shit as every other Italian restaurant, but they do it well. This place caters to the downtown business crowd which probably means they receive shitty tips. Let’s not dick around, everyone knows yuppies, Europeans, and black people tip like shit and you’ll find a lot of that in downtown. Don’t groan, you politically correct pussies, ask anyone that has ever worked in the food service industry.

I’ve never been here for dinner, but one could only assume they do what any other restaurant in the area does at night which is to double the price.

I like the food. Their tortellini made my tongue hard. Their tomato sauce was a bit acidic, but I can handle it because I’m not made of paper mache. Whenever I try a new restaurant I have a tendency to try a “safe” dish, something typical with a familiar, pronounceable name. I once had their lasagna and it tasted like a Hall & Oates reunion tour. That may not sound like a good thing, but the smooth stylings of Daryl Hall and John Oates are superior to the siren’s songs that enticed sailors during the buttfucking Greek era.

Their tortellini made my tongue hard.

Their wait staff could use some work. Italian restaurants are notorious for not giving a shit about their patrons, and usually I’m very cool with that, but this place took it to another level of assholeitude. Last time I was there my friend and I waited 10 minutes for the waiter to collect our credit cards. It would’ve bothered me more if it wasn’t for my friend’s tendency to get passive aggressive about the situation, and then I make fun of her for it.

Speaking of buttfucking Greeks, I was watching 300 again last night because I was in the mood to watch some Arabs (stfu about “Persians”) get their asses kicked. It turns out it’s not historically accurate.

Give Fratelli Milano a visit. I totally phoned this review in. I mean that literally, I typed this thing on my iPhone while on the metro mover.

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2 Comments to Ristorante Fratelli Milano

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