Strike! Or gutter ball!
Either way, I landed at a New York bowling alley that smelled like fries, nachos, and slightly suspicious carpet. Honestly, I didn’t expect culinary magic to emerge between the lanes, but here we are, and my taste buds are filing complaints for being unprepared.
I ordered at the comfort food counter like a rookie bowler nervously picking a ball, and what came back was pure, messy joy…