Page 61 of Old Girls Go Greek
‘Definitely stony minerality,’ Will said, and he winked at me.
I grinned back. ‘And crisp and dry.’
‘Perfect,’ he said, ‘just like this evening.’
I gave a happy sigh. He was right. Everything about it was lovely. There was enough space between the tables so no one was tripping over my handbag, we were not privy to other people’s conversations and there was no terrible background muzak playing.
The main courses arrived. He had chosen some beautifully presented lamb dish with what looked like potato cakes and green salad. Then my catch of the day arrived, and my confidence took a tumble.
In front of me was an oval dish containing a bed of mixed vegetables and on top of that a huge fishy something, and it was looking at me with quite a resentful expression which, under the circumstances, was understandable.
‘Bourtheto,’ the waiter said with a wistful smile, ‘so delicious. A speciality.Éna fili sef– a chef’s kiss.’
Oh well, I’d better get on with it and not meet my dinner’s gaze. I took a dollop of the vegetables with my fork and covered up the accusing face.
It took me one mouthful to realise it was incredibly fiery and it nearly blew my tastebuds away. The waitress hadn’t meant did I want my food hot as in hot, she’d meant spicy. If this was a kiss from the chef I wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley without some sort of a weapon.
I gamely pressed on, concentrating on the vegetables and taking frequent sips of iced water, which I didn’t think was the right thing to do. I’d read somewhere that a glass of milk would be better, but I’d look a right fool ordering that, wouldn’t I?
‘Mmm,’ I said to Will’s enquiry, ‘full of flavour; in fact, lots of flavours but a bit peppery. How’s yours?’
‘Terrific,’ he said, ‘absolutely delicious.’
I gazed enviously at his meal for a moment and then dabbed at my face with my napkin. The spice of the meal was bringing heat to my face and tears to my eyes. Which meant my mascara was probably running. Just great.
‘Very filling too,’ I said, leaning back in my chair, ‘I think I need a little breather.’
Perhaps I could get some fresh air and go to the loo. I knew where it was after all.
‘Would you excuse me for just a moment?’
I stood up and went downstairs to the ladies, hanging my tongue unattractively out of my mouth as I went so it could get some fresh air. A couple passed me on the stone staircase and gave me an odd look.
‘Lovely evening,’ I said brightly.
‘Nai, kalispéra,’ the woman said doubtfully, grabbing her companion’s arm.
The ladies’ room was empty and I sat for a moment on a little chair, hanging my tongue out and panting for a bit longer and then standing up to wash my hands. What an idiot I was. If I had brought my reading glasses with me, things might have been very different. What should I do?
There was nothing for it. I would have to try again.
And afterwards I would have ice cream for dessert. Yes, that was a great idea.
Back at the table, I made a gallant effort to eat some more, and in the end after having hidden as much of the fish as I could under the sauce, the remaining vegetables and my cutlery and napkin, sat back and gave a happy sigh.
‘That looked like it was a bit of a challenge?’ Will said.
‘It was a bit spicy,’ I admitted, and then realised I had a fishbone stuck somewhere in between my side teeth. This was getting worse by the minute.
There was a little pot of cocktail sticks on the table and in an ideal world I would have taken one and gone poking about between my teeth to dislodge the fishbone, which as the seconds passed seemed to have taken on the size and shape of a darning needle and was sticking into my lip.
I couldn’t sit there in front of him and do that. It would be disgusting.
After a while, the waiter came to remove our plates and I watched him go with some relief, my tongue still probing as daintily as I could.
‘I’ll just go and freshen up and then perhaps we can have some dessert?’ he said. ‘The menu looks wonderful.’
Within seconds of his leaving, I had grabbed a toothpick and was prodding at my teeth, trying and failing to dislodge the fishbone. I closed my eyes and tried to visualise my premolars, hoping I didn’t have any fillings there that I might displace, and then I sloshed some of the lovely wine about like a mouthwash.
