Haughty waiters chase costumed Christmas fish
When we left you dangling in the last letter, Nazy and I were on a hilly path between Ribeauville and Riquewihr. Our short stroll took a bit more than two hours. Back at the hotel, we asked for a dinner suggestion.
“... and the food, especially the fish, is magnificent. But the service is a little, eh, questionable,” Marie-Madeline explained.
Nazy decided to verify the suggestion at the tourist buro in the center of the town. The food, we were assured was spectacular, but the service was suspect. Unexpectedly, Nazy asked my opinion.
“The surly and haughty French waiter is a comedic staple,” I replied. “It can’t be worse than the movies.”
At the restaurant, Nazy used her normal approach...
“This menu,” she began, “makes everything look so delightful.”
“I didn’t know that Nazy read French,” I thought.
“What do you recommend?” Nazy asked.
The waiter looked at her.
“Do you speak English?” I asked.
“But of course,” the waiter replied.
“Then what do you recommend?” Nazy repeated.
“I do not know what you like, Madam. I cannot recommend.”
“I like fish.”
“All of our fish is excellent.”
“What can you tell me about the John Dory?”
“It is a fish, Madam. It comes from the water.”
Nazy ordered a salad while she considered aquatic alternatives.
“I do not want French dressing, I want...”
“This is a French restaurant.” The waiter interrupted.
“For the salad sauce, I want oil and vinegar,” Nazy persisted.
“I do not understand a single word that you are saying,” the waiter responded.
“The food better be good,” I thought.
“Oil and vinegar,” Nazy repeated. “On my salad.”
The waiter responded with a look that reminded me of the time that the cat jumped into an bathtub that was unexpectedly filled with cold water.
“What is on top of salad?” I asked.
“Vinaigrette.” the waiter replied.
“That’s fine,” Nazy replied. “Which wine do you..”
“We will have a Pinot Noir,” I interjected.
“He may be rude,” I continued, “but at least he is slow.”
After dinner, we walked back to the hotel. Both Nazy and I were tired from the long walk. However, our approach to the situation differed. I opined that my legs were a bit weary, Nazy said simply that she was looking forward to a nice night’s sleep. “None of my muscles aches at all,” Nazy said - 10 seconds before falling asleep.
We began the next day with a quick excursion to the Ribeauville fabric factory. Nazy was enamored with the tablecloth bargains.
We returned to the hotel and checked out. There was, we had heard, a festival of some kind in Riquewihr.
“We could walk...” I began.
“Of course, it might rain,” Nazy replied.
“Do your legs ache?” I asked.
“Of course not. I can walk. Again. Can you?”
“We could walk, but if you wanted to buy anything, carrying it back could be, eh, problematic. Besides,” I continued. “Riquewihr is on the way home.”
“Really?” Nazy asked.
“Really!” I affirmed. “I think so,” I thought.
We decided to drive.
We arrived in time to see the annual costume festival.
The city also had a huge (and impossible to bypass) Christmas ornament boutique. We enjoyed fresh squeezed grape juice (Muscat and Riesling) and toured the ceramics stores. Not only did Riquewihr, like, Ribeauville have a beautiful collection of brightly colored houses, in addition, it had a collection of brightly colored inhabitants.
For more photos of this wonderful part of the world, click here.
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