Sexy Feast: A Prostitute Named Pistachio at D’Ambrosio

dambrosio_500wEverywhere I go these days, people are talking about a new palace of pleasure that’s opened in Ballard.

So I went. And I swear: Going to D’Ambrosio Gelato is like paying a visit to a popular brothel.

A very popular brothel. What I’d heard was true: There’s typically a line of people trying to get in, while those leaving do so with smiles on their faces.

You have to wait your turn, and it’s a wait full of anticipation, wondering about all of the choices and possibilities ahead of you. Many report that the best is the house is called “Pistachio”–it’s really hot and has satisfied many a customer.

You finally reach the counter, and the host gestures to the line-up of lovelies waiting to pleasure you. There they are, all sprawled out before you, colorfully calling out to attract your attention. Vaniglia, pure and white, winks seductively. Amaretto arches its back just so, limone licks its lips suggestively, and stracciatella strokes its neck in a flirtatious manner. Or so it seems.

Each one offers its own sense of temptation. You want more time with each, to get to know it better. Here’s a not-so-secret tip: Ask for a sample. You can actually get a little taste of each–a hint of things to come.

Eventually, you have to make your choice. If feeling flush, maybe you’ll take a pair and call it a threesome. Heck…you can even buy a party of three or four. Why not? No one’s judging you.

Now, at other places, you next have to decide what you’d to do. Do you want just the basic, or do you offer extra pay to partake in special play, like a float, a sundae, a soda, a split? But at D’Ambrosio, you get the simple act, a choice between cup or cone.

Trust me when I say you don’t need the extra theatrics. This stuff is that good.

Feeling hedonistic, I took two last time around. First to call out to me was the exotic fichi, mascarpone & caramello, but I also picked pistacchio di bronte, the famed Pistachio, which I found playing coy in the corner.

I alternated my focus between the two. The fig and caramel was satisfyingly sweet and erotic, but while that was my fluffer, Pistachio was my finisher: a subtle yet seductive import.

I unselfishly recommend Pistachio, despite knowing that its popularity, furthered by my recommendation, might make it unavailable next time I decide to seek pleasure at D’Ambrosio.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on October 14, 2010.

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