A waiter is suddenly at their side. “One of you wanted an order of bouillabaisse stir-fry?” he asks.
“Oh, God. What jerks,” says Liz. Matthew has the fleeting impression that she’s about to cry.
“We did order it, but I canceled the order,” says Matthew. The waiter stands looking at him with no expression.
Is he thinking this over? Is he going to come to some decision, or is he paralyzed in the face of a novel situation?
“You don’t want it, then?” asks the waiter.
Matthew almost laughs. Liz explodes. “Of course we don’t want it. That’s why we canceled it. We only ordered it because I couldn’t eat this crap.”
“Was there something you disliked about the squid-ink pasta?”
“There was a great deal I disliked about it,” says Liz with the sneer she’d like to turn on Matthew. “It was too peppery, for one thing. You shouldn’t put so much pepper into a dish like this. I’ve had this dish in many restaurants, including restaurants in Italy — ”
She has? When?
“ — and it’s never as peppery as this.”
“Well, this is our chef’s preparation,” the waiter explains, adopting now the gentle, falsely helpful tone the young like to use with aged people who appear to be bewildered by the exciting changes in the modern world, a tone equivalent to a helping hand. “He tends to create dishes that are more highly spiced than others.”
“Well, I think you should let people know that, then, don’t you? You should print it on the menu. A warning. ‘Beware: Chef is an idiot.’”
Matthew is surprised by this.
I’ve never heard her talk like this before.
I didn’t realize she had such a fully thought-out philosophy of food, says BW. Apparently she’s in favor of bland food, to be seasoned to taste by the people who will eat it. Is that a democratic attitude, would you say? Democratic versus the autocratic attitude of the chef, who prepares a dish one way only, his way, and tells the diner to take it or leave it? There might be something we can use in that idea.
This isn’t the time for that.
The waif has come over. She wears a look of concern, but secretly she’s delighted. Here’s something for her to do. She can intervene in this situation, whatever it is.
“Is something wrong?”
“Would you just bring us the check?” asks Matthew. He’s had enough. He’d like to leave.
“And don’t put this plate of bouillabaisse stuff on it,” says Liz.
“You don’t want it now?”
“We told you to cancel the order, don’t you remember?” says Liz.
I told you, thinks Matthew. Don’t you remember me? I held your hand while I told you. Practically held your hand.
“Oh, sure. I remember. I just didn’t get around to telling them to cancel the order in the kitchen. We’ve been so busy, you know? It’s no problem, though. You won’t be charged for it. I’ll get your check.”
[to be continued]
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🎧 541: A waiter . . .