Super Cornacchia Bros.
Since we're on the subject of Michael, I'll recap what happened a couple of weeks back during his birthday.Well, during the week of February 23rd, my roommate Michael and his twin brother Christopher marked their birthday with an impressive, week long orgy of food and alcohol. I managed to avoid being crushed by their revelry only due to my m-f work schedule and short film shoot over the weekend which kept me out of harm's way for the majority of the week. I didn't exactly remain unscathed however, as I attended their first soiree Thursday night at Micelli's, an Italian restaurant in Hollywood, where I was promised a small, quiet evening with a couple of close friends and family members. In reality a group of 20-30 friends showed (I suppose Michael could consider this an intimate group as he tends to do everything BIG), drinking and eating and helping our waiter, Stotski, to belt out "That's Amore," opera-style to Mike and Chris, right before he served them some Birthday Spumoni. I must admit, due to the jocularity of everyone present, I did have an outstanding time, but with my callback the next day for Malcolm and the Captured shoot looming, I couldn't help but hold back a bit on the alcohol although I couldn't be stopped from tearing up my baked ziti. A couple of days later on Saturday night was even worse as I was burned out from the long shoot for Captured, but had to attend another party for Michael and Chris as this was the real party, the official party for the Brothers Cornacchia, if you will. Even more people showed up for this one at the Spanish Kitchen on La Cienega - I lost count at 75 since I showed up at 10:30pm and stumbled out sometime after midnight, smelling of smoke, vodka and Bohemia beer.
Thankfully, Michael's and Christopher's mother Grace came out from Philly to partake in the festivities and worked some daily, arcane cooking magic in the kitchen with tomato sauces, herbs and meat. Although humoring a diet for the past couple of weeks, I could not help but pilfer from the generous quantities of meatballs, pasta and stromboli that were constantly appearing around the apartment and whose sole purpose on this planet was to be eaten. Actually, I was helpless to the call of this food as there's a small strand of Italian DNA in my genetic makeup that would not be denied.
click here for more images from Cornacchia Week 2006.
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