Monday, February 11, 2008

Monday, February 11th - Ecco Cafe

First things first: its ridiculously cold today. I purchased a Diet Coke this morning from the CVS in my apartment building, and there was ice forming in it by the time I got to 16th Street. Not even kidding. My ears were killing me by the time I got to work.

So I go down to talk to my coworker and usual lunch cohort. He mentioned that it was too cold, and that he would just have to go next door to ABP and grab something, because its too cold to walk anywhere. Somehow, I managed to talk him out of this, and we tried a new place: Ecco Cafe, at 17th and G.
So, we walk into the place, and a couple of things stand out. One, it smelled tremendous. That was a good sign. Second, the menu was huge and varied - pasta, salads, sandwiches, pizza, etc. But definitely Italian. So I went with some sort of pasta with chicken marinara sauce. YF, my cohort, had some sort of sub.

Please note the banana. You buy something, and you get a free treat - choices were candy bars, chips, or fruit. That's a pretty sweet bonus. I like unexpected treats like that. Also, they have all sorts of extras for your food - oregano, parmesan, crushed red peppers, etc. These folks take care of you. I like it. The food, well, it was good. Not great, but good. However, the sheer selection is going to make us come back several times - going to have to try more stuff off the menu. And perhaps the best part? We were able to eat there, and it wasn't crowded or loud and stupid, and it was quick, and it was relatively cheap. I'm sure that was a $2 bottle of water I got, but still made it out for under $10.

Overall, it was a decent place. I'm sure that whatever I had was relatively healthy, and seemed to have fresh ingredients. Plus, its hard finding quick Italian places sometimes. Mainly, though, its an option that isn't Breadline. Because Breadline blows. We ran into some coworkers on the way back, and we had an Executive Vice President comment that Breadline is run by pinko communist bastards. So that's the official word - a sandwich at Breadline is a sandwich for Stalin. Its un-American. French baguette my ass.

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