There is a place where the pasta runs wild. In heaps and in mounds it’s piled and piled. “Just a side for me,” you will say, unaware That what you’ve just ordered could feed Delaware. The restaurant’s Rossi’s; it’s outwardly mild. In Archbald, PA, it’s Italian-styled.A friendly corner place for the small-town’s folk, But oh God, the portions—they’re simply no joke.

Its meatballs are boulders, they conquer a plate, Ready to squash kingdoms just lying in wait, The size of your head, no, yours and your brother’s! Saved for later meals by Archbald’s kind mothers! The chicken Parm’s bigger than both of your hands, Completely destroying your clean-plate-club plans. It comes with unlimited side salad too And a bowl of pasta that feeds forty-two.*