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.”
Me: “What?”
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
Bob: laughs
Me: What are you laughing at?
Bob: Nothing
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.
