“I’m going to order the flat bread. The Lyon one. What do you think? How do you even say it? It’s probably ‘leee-OH(n)’ or something, and I’ll be ordering a lion.”
(five minutes later)
“I’ll just have the Flat Bread Lion.”
“Em, oui. Flamekuches Leee-OH(n)?”
(one hour later)
“Do you have a dessert menu?”
“(Indistinguishable) (word that sounds like cannoli).”
We smile and say, “Thank you!”
Absolutely no idea. Think. Think.
I remember when I was waiting to be seated that a couple walked up to the front of the restaurant, perused the bakery case, and then returned to their table.
“I think she wants us to check out the bakery case. And she says they have cannoli in the back.”
We march up to the case. There are some Yule logs, berry tarts, day old éclairs, and chocolate mice.
She watches us as we stare at the case.
“And you have cannoli, too?” I ask.
Amused smile. “(Word that sounds less like ‘cannoli’ and more like ‘crème brulee’).”
How is it that we still have NO IDEA what this restaurant serves for dessert!
Wil to the rescue: “What do you recommend?”
Relieved waitress. She lights up a bit. “Mmmm, crème brulee!” she intones, quietly, reverently.
We decide: “We’ll have the crème brulee.”
(Thirty minutes later, fresh crème brulee with a strawberry garnish is served.)