Last week dragged on a bit too long (between 6:20 a.m. Monday and 1:00 a.m. Thursday I got seven hours of sleep). Granted, most of the pressure came from procrastination on a major Digital Systems project (oops), but the non-stop barrage of 10th-week loose ends didn’t help things either.

So, in an effort to relax away from the pressures of school, I decided to grab a bite to eat with my new [fraternal] little brother, Vince. I thought that at one point I had overheard Kiefer mention a place called Pino’s under the context that it was a deli. I like delis, and Vince had no objection, so we proceeded on our merry way.

We arrived in the parking lot, opened the door, and immediately knew something was amiss. Everyone in the restaurant was dressed nicely. There was a live person playing soft music on a grand piano in the corner. Each place setting had multiple forks and a bread plate.

It turns out that Pino’s Il Sonetto is most definitely not a deli; in fact, it is one of the nicest restaurants in Terre Haute. I wanted to take Vince to a place a bit nicer than the usual Rose-Hulman ARA, but man, I really overshot the mark.

Surprisingly, even though we walked in waaaay underdressed (think jeans and t-shirt), they still served us. I looked at the menu and didn’t recognize anything. All of the entries had fancy Italian names, and even the English descriptions did little to apprise me of the culinary content. I sat befuddled for a moment before I ordered something that I think was made with chicken using a corrupt, anglicized pronunciation of the fine Italian name.

A short while later, I received my meal. I think it was some sort of chicken breast stuffed with Parmesan cheese, covered with some interpretation of tomato sauce. Whatever it was, it tasted good. That’s the important part, right? Vince went with the rib-eye steak, which I guess was very good as well. All the time while eating, we did our best to avoid committing a fine dining faux pas. For the most part, I think we were successful, but then again, we were already so out of place that I don’t think anybody would have noticed had we used the wrong fork or forgotten about the bread plate.

At the end, the bill confirmed yet again that we were not in a deli. Ah well. Now, if I find occasion to impress somebody with a fine restaurant, I will think of Pino’s Il Sonetto.