Flambe Italian style - Mi dispiace, signora
Eric and I treat ourselves to one really fine restaurant on each of our trips to Amsterdam. This year, I selected an Italian enoteca that was on the list of ten best restaurants in the city. I had to make the reservation before I left home a month ago.
Last week we traveled across town to arrive at the restaurant in time for our reservation. "Mi dispiace, signora" (I'm sorry, or it displeases me), says the owner, but he does not have our reservation. My face falls. We came all the way across town, and I looked forward this for weeks. Ah, I think as I pull out my phone to show the reservation confirmation. He looks at it, sniffs, and says, "but that was last night." Evidently, after I entered the reservation, Outlook changed the time zone, and the reservation moved to the next day. The owner looked at me sadly, mystified or perhaps grieving that someone would squander an opportunity to dine at his fine restaurant. I look sadder and say "bouna sera" (good evening) in Italian. "Wait," he says in Italian, "perhaps we can get you in next week." Mondays are quiet nights.
And so a bargain is struck, and we return tonight. We are seated, enjoying wine and perusing the menu. I look up, and there is a hole in the middle of Eric's menu, surrounded by a ring of fire that would make Johnny Cash proud. A waiter grabs the brightly burning piece of paper and douses it in the bar sink. We move the tea light to the side.
At the next table, the woman has ordered spaghetti flambeed in a wheel of Parmesan, so the cheese melts and coats the pasta. She is ecstatic. Only we have blue collar flambee.
Soon, it is time for dessert. I order chocolate souffle. A few minutes later, the owner returns. Again, "mi dispiace," but tonight the souffle did not - and here, he circles his hands as if they are rolling over each other. Perhaps "la torta al cioccolato" instead? Is it - I move my hands vertically, shaping parentheses in the air. "Si," he says, and flattens his hands along a horizontal line. "Va bene" (very well), say I. Another bargain is struck.
Eric is amazed at this almost wordless communication. The owner and I understand each other perfectly; the cake is soon delivered, we signal for the bill, and soon we are on our way home.
Last week we traveled across town to arrive at the restaurant in time for our reservation. "Mi dispiace, signora" (I'm sorry, or it displeases me), says the owner, but he does not have our reservation. My face falls. We came all the way across town, and I looked forward this for weeks. Ah, I think as I pull out my phone to show the reservation confirmation. He looks at it, sniffs, and says, "but that was last night." Evidently, after I entered the reservation, Outlook changed the time zone, and the reservation moved to the next day. The owner looked at me sadly, mystified or perhaps grieving that someone would squander an opportunity to dine at his fine restaurant. I look sadder and say "bouna sera" (good evening) in Italian. "Wait," he says in Italian, "perhaps we can get you in next week." Mondays are quiet nights.
And so a bargain is struck, and we return tonight. We are seated, enjoying wine and perusing the menu. I look up, and there is a hole in the middle of Eric's menu, surrounded by a ring of fire that would make Johnny Cash proud. A waiter grabs the brightly burning piece of paper and douses it in the bar sink. We move the tea light to the side.
At the next table, the woman has ordered spaghetti flambeed in a wheel of Parmesan, so the cheese melts and coats the pasta. She is ecstatic. Only we have blue collar flambee.
Soon, it is time for dessert. I order chocolate souffle. A few minutes later, the owner returns. Again, "mi dispiace," but tonight the souffle did not - and here, he circles his hands as if they are rolling over each other. Perhaps "la torta al cioccolato" instead? Is it - I move my hands vertically, shaping parentheses in the air. "Si," he says, and flattens his hands along a horizontal line. "Va bene" (very well), say I. Another bargain is struck.
Eric is amazed at this almost wordless communication. The owner and I understand each other perfectly; the cake is soon delivered, we signal for the bill, and soon we are on our way home.
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