By Andrew Z. Galarneau

A taste for fried mozzarella sticks has left me vulnerable to years of appetizer abuse. I saw too many pale, chewy sticks whose journey from factory to plate was interrupted only by a burst of microwave radiation. I had started to wonder what I ever saw in them in the first place.

At Orazio's, my faith was rewarded, with slabs the size of Snickers bars, clad in crunchy golden crumbs, just oozy enough to weep mozzarella as they arrived. Chunky tomato sauce with gusto. When a guest said, "If I wasn't here with you guys, I would have ordered two of these things and gone to town," it was like he was reading my mind.

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Source: http://buffalo.com/