The Pizza Master

OK, I’ll admit it: That was me in Row Six to see the first showing of, “The Master,” which opened in Cambridge last night.  I can’t say I was happy about the director showing an army shrink holding Card I of the Rorschach upside-down to the fruitcake who would become the disciple, nor how he went out of sequence on the cards, nor how he took away each card in seconds when the rule is two minutes, but the rest of the movie?  Wow.  Certainly the best thing I’ve seen in years.

Famished by the picture’s despair and hungry by way of its complexity, I headed over to Pizzeria Posto in Somerville.  I love this place.  Or loved it, anyway.  Last night, it was as if there was a prize up for the wait staff who could sell the fastest and turn the table over the fastest.  Excusable, sort of, if it wasn’t for Nonna’s meatballs tasting like Nonna’s leftover hamburger and a pizza so soggy it tasted like sauce on undercooked dough.  Well, that’s another place to cross off the list.

I’m telling ya: Certain restaurants in certain towns are more interested in creativity than consistency.  Does not work.

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