We arrived in Waynesburg hungry but unsure of where to eat, given that our choice was either McDonalds or one of a few local restaurants. Cibo's was among these few local eateries, and the fact that it was located in what used to be a movie theatre called The Mohawk was what helped us come to a decision. We soon found ourselves in a large space with blazons adorning the wall that I'd imagine would be appropriate for some kind of medieval tournament.
The banner at the top of the Cibo's website proudly declares Waynesburg, Ohio to be "The Spaghetti Capital of the World," an audacious claim, considering the fact that it's referring to an American (read: not Italian) town with a population of less than a thousand people and only one Italian restaurant.
Here's a tip for all the entrepreneurs out there: when you're indirectly calling yourself the best at something, you'd better be pretty darn good at it, or else you're doing both others and yourself a disservice. If I'm going to be eating mediocre pasta at a restaurant, I'd prefer the honesty of a sign that reads "Edible pasta cooked here seven days a week." That way I know exactly what I'm in for.
But at Cibo's, my first taste of what was in store was from a bowl of soup that oozed out over the edges like the displaced contents of a flu patient's stomach. I'm not sure if it was actually soup or if it was a vegetable medley smothered in spaghetti sauce; either way, my attempt to make it more palatable by dunking some of their bread in it was only mildly successful, since the bread was cold and had a bizarre after-note of glazed donut. When I looked across the table, I witnessed Tricia strategically breaking down dense chunks of iceberg lettuce while a mysterious dressing (possibly watered-down Elmer's glue) puddled slowly at the bottom of her plate. We took turns smiling unconvincingly across the table, as if to say "What are we doing with our lives?" There would be plenty more of those looks exchanged later on that night, but I'm getting ahead of myself...
When it came to the main dish, both of us decided upon the "all day special," which gave us the choice of gnocchi or rigatoni along with one meatball. If you're thinking that a single meatball sounds a bit frugal on the restaurant's part, think again. It was more than enough, but I suppose that was the case for the wrong reasons.
The lone meatball was a flavorless sphere of disappointment whose blandness was amplified only by a sauce that would leave Italians drooling over Ragu. In case you're interested in picking some up, the sauce was being sold at the cash register for $6 a jar.
Disclaimer: I fully recognize that it's all too easy to tear down what someone has built up with years of hard work based on one dining experience; perhaps it was simply a bad night for Cibo's, and their chef was going through a situation similar to what Kurt was going through in the "Gourmet Night" episode of Fawlty Towers. And maybe I'm just a snotty restaurant-goer like young Ronald, who appears earlier in the same episode (see clip below). After all, two different reviewers on Yelp gave the place 4 out of 5 stars.
After dinner, we headed over to the field where we'd end up playing music to a sizeable crowd of young people who, for the most part, didn't come for the purpose of listening to music.
I'd tell you more, but what happened in Waynesburg stays in Waynesburg, especially the car that reportedly ended up halfway in the pond (that's probably difficult to remove) and the girl who wouldn't stop hula hooping (I'm sure she's still at it in the same field).
Unfortunately, the only things that didn't stay in Waynesburg were the ticks. They decided to come along with us for a couple days, much to our dismay.
Driving Music:
TV on the Radio - Return to Cookie Mountain
Gun Lake - Balfour
Jimmy Eat World - Bleed American
Juniper Tar - Howl Street EP
Mavis Staples - You Are Not Alone
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