There’s a saying in journalism that one should never bury the lede, so I’ll skip the pleasantries and get right to it: I’m eating pasta tossed with cantaloupe that was made in a purple and red trolley.

No hallucinogens were involved in the creation of that sentence and superficially, at least, it makes my inner-Italian food purist’s head want to explode like in the scene in “Scanners.” But it's … actually pretty good?