When I moved to New England, I missed Southern biscuits, okra and fried green tomatoes. However, I didn’t have time to miss them long. I discovered even more food that filled me with delight. First, I happened into delicatessens and delicious half-sour pickles, crusty rolls, potato pancakes, corned beef and pastrami.

Shortly after that, I strayed into the Italian side of town and found out that Franco-American had nothing to do with spaghetti. I tasted pizza made in brick ovens, feasted on Italian bread stuffed with spinach sauteed in olive oil with bits of pepperoni, and learned not to think about what happened to get the Veal Tosca on my plate at Leon’s in New Haven.

I didn’t think much about the food I had left behind in the Deep South once I settled in with Italian food. On one little street I could explore Italy from its tomato sauces to its white-wine based delights. My birthday cakes now came from Italian bakeries – seven layers of rum-soaked cake separated by vanilla and chocolate creams, and then mounded with whipped cream.

While I left the food of my childhood behind with an occasional fleeting glance, when I moved back to the South from Connecticut I literally mourned losing true Italian restaurants. I continued mourning when we moved from Tennessee to Oregon more than a decade ago.

Then, my grief came to an end. Jerry Como and Sharon Vincent opened Como’s Italian Eatery at the corner of Court and Southeast First streets. First I tried the lasagna. Then I ordered the spinach and ricotta pie. After that I moved onto the salads, the pizza and the rest of the lengthy menu. While some things, like the spinach bread, were missing, Como’s offered an amazing sampling of the Italian entrees I had been missing for so many years.

(Somewhere in here you should begin to get the picture that the only way you’ll ever catch me on the Atkins diet is if I change my last name to Atkins.)

I was in gustatory bliss. And, as life has taught us all, if you find yourself in a state of bliss, you’re heading for a fall. Jerry and Sharon have decided to sell Como’s. In the words of every 5-year-old I have ever known, I say: “That’s just not fair!”

As of yesterday afternoon, they had no prospective buyers. What’s up with that? Here they are, the owners of a restaurant that is packed at every lunch hour, offering not just the name and the equipment, but the very recipes that have made Como’s into a bit of Italy right here in the Wild West. Heck, Jerry even says he’ll stay around long enough to get the new owners acclimated.

I hate to beg – but of course, I will. Some young, enterprising potential restaurant owner needs to step up to the pizza oven and take a chance on a sure thing. Italy and I are depending on you.

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Terry Murry can be reached at (541) 966-0810 or at tmurry@eastoregonian.com.