Written by Gordon Aspey
29 August 2020
Kaz thought we might like to try a true French eating experience where the locals eat before we returned to the UK. Jerry her husband had been intrigued by a Bistro he discovered on the internet called the Cavalier. The reviews were very impressive; everything was fresh, in season and cooked on the spot. No mean chef himself, he couldn’t believe the Menu to be commercially viable, never mind the time frame.
‘I reckon we’ll be in the land of slumber before we get served’ he said. The Cavalier was a 25 mile drive deep into the countryside. Babs, not accustomed to such long hops for her calorie intake started to mutter her disapproval.
When we arrived, Jerry started a few mutterings of his own ‘It’s not a bit like the place on the internet, it looks more like a down market transport cafe, this can’t be the right place.’
The doorways and ceilings were abnormally low and the decor in kindest terms was minimalist. The main eating area had been sectioned off for alterations. Half a dozen tables and chairs had been squeezed into a corner.
‘The tables were so close together, it would have been possible for your fork to accidentally stray onto a neighbor’s plate. If we were surprised with the premises we were blown away by the waiter. He was wearing a wide brimmed hat with a white feather, tight maroon breeches, and lace up black leather boots. He had a waxed black mustache, shoulder length black hair and a sword strapped around his waist. He could scarcely have been more than five foot three inches in height as he came to guide us to our table. In contrast Jerry who looked a tad uncomfortable, even sitting, with his six foot six inch stature found himself staring down at the waiters white feathered hat.
There were two other middle aged diners uncomfortably close to our table. They smiled and nodded a welcome as we became seated.
We had soup of the day for starters whilst Kas and Jerry tried to figure out what to have for the main dish. The diminutive waiter seemed to be running the whole show on his own as he rushed back and forth from the kitchen, humming a tune as he went.
The man with thick lenses tapped Jerry on the arm and explained the menu he was looking at was an old one. Monsieur Cavalier had died two months ago he pointed to his chest to indicate a heart attack. His well built partner with generous makeup puckered her face with disapproval and pointed at the small blackboard on the wall.
Kas started to chuckle as she read the menu. ‘We’ve come all this way for steak and chips.’ Jerry groaned ‘Yeah it’s really disappointing; I was looking forward to this evening.’
The waiter dashed past us with his sword stretched out before him. On the end of the blade were several pieces of steak mingling with peppers and other oddments like a Greek Kebab. He stumbled as he went to unload the meat onto the buxom ladies plate. The lady unaware of the small dark stain on her cream blouse started tucking into her meal.
The waiter hesitated with hand to his open mouth then hurried back to the kitchen and returned with a damp cloth. He awkwardly pointed to her blouse and started to dab it with outstretched arm apologizing profusely. The lady chewing vigorously on a piece of steak looked equally awkward and uncertain as to how to react. She nervously pushed out her chest slightly to help with the cleaning process.
Her partner busily engrossed in mopping up his soup with a crust of bread tilted his head on hearing the waiters repeated apologies. His eyes grew large with disbelief as he witnessed the hand gently stroking his wife’s breast. The following is my loose interpretation of the angry exchanges that followed.
‘What the f*** do you think you’re doing-get your greasy paws off my wife’s tits you dirty bastard. This is supposed to be a Bistro not a bloody massage parlor.’
The waiter adjusted his hat and desperately tried to explain his predicament but all attempts to pacify the husband failed; he was angry. I experienced a brief ripple of excitement when the lady still chewing hard on the steak tried to calm her husband. She offered to remove her blouse and clean… before she could complete the sentence, he snapped back at her.
‘Do what! We’re not putting on a bloody cabaret too’.
‘No-no’-she said, grabbing the damp cloth and pointed towards the toilet sign.’
The waiter, still simmering from the verbal abuse took up a more aggressive approach. ‘Please you not call me a f****** pygmy again’
The husband glared back at him and shouted ‘Well you keep your effing paws off my wife’s tits’
‘I was trying to help – don’t you understand you stupid four eyed arse hole’ said the waiter.
The exchanges became more angry and abusive. I couldn’t help thinking in earlier times this would have been a ‘Pistols at dawn’ scenario. The diminutive waiter showed considerable talent in the abusive exchanges delivering his responses with the rapidity of a machine gun. What he lacked in inches he made up for with a large locker of foul verbals. I reckon he would have come off best with pistols too.
A car pulled up outside and a man was helping an elderly lady with a Zimmer frame towards the entrance. As he opened the door there was an angry shout of a woman’s voice from the kitchen…
‘H-E-N-R-Y’ the Zimmer lady swiveled round as though stung by a wasp and shuffled hurriedly back to the car. The waiter made as if to call her back but the angry voice in the kitchen shouted even louder.
The husband looked at us and spread his arms ‘Sacra blur’ iss so bad’ and buried his head in his hands. He apologized to us for his outburst saying ‘I never see anything like that in my life, what was I supposed to do ? you see him do that ? Iss not done!’
We discovered the cafe was under new management. They had only been going a month when the new chef had quit over some unacceptable financial arrangement. Thieves had ransacked the place even taking the fixtures and fittings. ‘It was all in the local paper’ he said; we have been coming here for many years. ‘
‘He was a lovely man’ said the wife still chewing her steak and straitening her now gravy free blouse. ‘He could make a boiled egg seem a memorable treat, but he was hopeless with money. These people will soon be gone.’ The husband nodded in agreement, ‘Yeah, we won’t be coming back for sure.’
They both apologized again as they got up to leave and hoped they hadn’t spoilt our evening. The waiter abandoned the usual good customer protocol as he held the door open and told them to piss off and not come back. The husband looked to be on the point of thumping him but the wife grabbed him firmly by the shoulders and pushed him through the door.
The waiter came over to us and started to apologize …‘Sometimes you ave to say things’ he said. Jerry with a wide grin, replied ‘No worry mate, it’s not a problem.’
I wasn’t too keen about ordering the steak as I noticed the buxom lady was still chewing hers as she left. The waiter confirmed they had staff difficulties and the chef leaving had been their biggest headache that’s why the menu was so small. He then carried on clearing the table humming as if nothing had happened; it was a normal everyday thing telling customers to get stuffed.
Jerry requested our food be delivered on a plate rather than on the end of his sword. ‘No problem!’ said the waiter ‘The boss man he like to create how you say – atmosphere but I think it not work, but my last day and I glad to take off this crazy outfit.’
Kas apologized to us for such a disastrous evening. ‘Blimey, not another apology, ‘I said, ‘It’s giving me indigestion. As far as I’m concerned it has been a very entertaining evening – the steak and chips were fine and the fruit crumble was great, I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.’ Jerry nodded his agreement,
‘Yeah and the wine was excellent, despite all the argy-bargee the angry voice in the kitchen certainly knows what she’s about. That was a well rounded meal cooked to perfection, the crumble was exceptional, I could have eaten another plate of that. And it was very reasonable.’
‘What about you Mum did you enjoy it?’ asked Kas.
‘Well, yes it’s been an unexpected experience to witness how the French eat, that fruit crumble was divine, but do the waiters always dress up like that?’
The waiter looked dumbfounded with our generous tip and once more started to apologize for his outburst. Jerry placed a hand on his shoulder and said ‘Don’t you worry my friend, we’ve enjoyed every moment it has been a very entertaining evening.’
The waiter then reached up and whispered something in Jerry’s ear.
Jerry doubled up with laughter. ‘Come on ‘said Kas as we got into the car ‘What is so funny-what did he say?’
He said ‘She had really nice tits.’