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Scenes From An Italian Restaurant

I like to eat at Sorrento's in Daytona Beach as much for the food as I do for the amusing human theater that happens there seemingly constantly.

For example, last week I took a new to Daytona friend to the Speedway and on Friday we stopped over at Sorrentoes (in the mini-mall location) for lunch.

Sorrentos, as my friend so aptly described it, is located in Daytona but it belongs in Brooklyn. It's a family-run Italian deli, serving pizza, pasta and assorted other Italian delicacies. You order from behind a counter and they will bring the food out after they have prepared it.

The day we went Sorrentos, it had at least three generations of the family working behind the counter. The older grandmother, her fifty-something son, and some of the kids. There's usually another fifty-something brother working, but he wasn't there when we arrived. Someone actually asked the other brother where the missing brother was .. he stopped in his tracks for extra dramatic effect (Italians) and said "Who? Who? Who?" and then proceeded to tell the customer that he didn't remember that guy (his brother) because "he never comes to work".

We ordered pizza slices from the counter. The Grandmotherly patriarch of the family stopped the guy taking our order cold.

"DON'T TAKE NO ORDERS FOR PIZZA SLICES IF YOU DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH CRUST WE GOT LEFT. YOU DO THAT AGAIN AND I'LL WALK YOU RIGHT OUTSIDE AND YOU CAN WORK SOMEWHERE ELSE. YOU GOT THAT?"

He rolled his eyes and walked over to see that there was, in fact, enough crust for our three slices of Pizza.

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