Loring- May 30th

The Loring Pasta Bar is one of those places in Minneapolis that we wonder about. Specifically, we wonder: why isn’t it more popular? It’s usually full of people, but you never hear about people wanting to go there. Maybe it’s because the Loring Pasta Bar is in Dinkytown, the hilariously named part of the city that is crawling with University of Minnesota undergrads, out tripping the light fantastic with khaki cargo shorts and bloodshot eyes. Okay, fine. But inside the Loring, it’s a different story: vines hanging from rafters, disco balls throwing light around the room. All in an old building that used to house Bob Dylan’s apartment.

Lizzie first went there for Welcome Weekend, the yearly event at the U in which grad students take accepted students under their wing to woo them to their lab. A couple of students picked her up from the airport and whisked her away to the Loring, where she ate delicious pasta and wondered why people were doing the tango inches away from her Diet Coke. She accepted the U’s offer shortly thereafter; we all know this was not a coincidence.

Just like Bryant-Lake Bowl and Victor’s, we always take visitors to the Loring Pasta Bar, so they can see what a ridiculous place Minneapolis is. This almost always works, including the time we came with Dave’s mom and godmother Mary (the latter of whom told us a confusing story about how poker was getting popular with college students; due to her Boston upbringing, we thought for 20 minutes she was referring to the traditional German dance. Accents!).

Another great memory from the Loring is a Michael Penn show Dave attended in 2005 – it was supposed to be at the nearby Varsity, but was relocated to the restaurant because of renovation. The setting was oddly perfect for his performance, which consisted only of Penn and his guitar. He was on the Loring’s tiny stage, surrounded by swirling lights and clinking silverware. Penn looked confused, but it all made a strange kind of sense.

We went to the Loring last Saturday night, the night before we left Minnesota for good. Since there was a wedding at the restaurant until 6, and we wanted to be at a First Ave. show by 7, it was a very brief visit. But the Loring looked as charming as ever, especially in the late-day sunshine. Though the service is usually - it must be said - incompetent, we had a lovely server who understood we were in a rush. We split the mushroom penne and the artichoke ramekin (the menu accurately calls it “butt-plumping”), and walked back outside to FratLand. So bittersweet.