We finally found 36 Linea down on the beach. It was a little chilly to eat outside, but the patio was gorgeous. When it came time to order the waiter started pushing soup. But I didn’t want soup. Bridin got in on the action, “Try the meatball soup. My mother used to make it and I want to see it again.” The server was pushing a cream of vegetable soup.
Bridin: It’s Past your neck.”
Bridin: “It’s past your neck. Dr Zhivago.”
Me: “What’s past my neck?”
Waiter (impatiently): Do you want vegetable or chicken balls?”
Me: I want chicken balls!!!!
Bridin: You can’t have chicken balls
Me: What are you laughing at?
It turns out they named the vegetable soup after Pasternak, the author of Dr Zhivago, and they were chicken balls, not meatballs. It was nice to bring back a sense memory for Bridin.
For main dishes, Bob had the turbot, Bridin had a cheese and bean stew, and I was undecided between the beef dishes. The waiter told me they had a special. It was the side of he cow. He emphasized, pointing at his own flank, “Side. Side.” So I had the side side.
For dessert, Bob and I split a marzipan and berry sabayon. Bridin ordered ice cream, which much to her chagrin was served in a coconut shell. She confided in me, “I tend to be suspicious of food served in a coconut shell” and that seemed very wise to me.