Good Service? In Cape Town??!
For a long time there’s been an attitude, sometimes deservedly so, that service in entertainment establishments in Cape Town, well, sucks. Like a Boeing’s air intake. But recently I have been on the receiving end of some surprisingly good service at Cape Town restaurants.
We began our evening at Café Royal and barely started warming our seats when a little old lady arrived to take our drinks order. Agog at the speedy attendance, we mumbled we hadn’t decided yet, and the little old lady replied she would go and finish her cigarette and come back.
After processing our drinks order, the little old lady jumped the gun on us again with our food order, so we had to send her away again. I like to think of that as “a geriatric exercise regime in the work place”. Yes, I know, I really do deserve that United Nations humanitarian award.
Now for some reason of late I have found myself in social settings surrounded by, dare I say it… vegetarians. Shhh – now don’t tell my farming family up north. I’ll never get free meat again. And I have come to learn that menu’s are not a vegetarian’s friend.
Café Royale has no less than eight vegetarian burgers on their menu which, in my opinion, is eight too many. They also have an extensive list of pizzas, but the sprout eaters saw fit to alter both their orders. Our waitress, god bless her, just said no problem and brought us our food. And these weren’t those abominations McDonald’s serves up as hamburgers that you finish in four bites. These were the kind of hamburgers that give your mouth stretch marks when you try to bite into them. I am ashamed to admit I had no recourse but to take the top bun off and eat it separately.
Apparently they vegetarian burgers were very good. I resolutely and proudly refused to be lured over to the dark side by passing hamburger through my mouth that did not have dead animal in it.
After dinner, and consuming copious amounts of alcohol it was time for the solemn ceremony of the after-dinner-cigarette. Unfortunately I had already run out, so asked our waitress if they had a vending machine. To my utter dismay they hadn’t, and the nearest shop was across the street.
Now since I was not feeling particularly athletic, I transfixed the waitress with my best doe-eyed-look (of course a vegetarian would have no idea what I’m talking about here), and asked her if she would get me a packet, not really expecting a positive response. What I got was a smile and a “sure, no problem”. The last time I had been so shocked was when I learned my parents had actually had carnal relations with one another.
So perhaps there is a Santa Claus, pigs can fly and Tony Leon will be our next president. OK. So perhaps the last one’s a bit far fetched.
We began our evening at Café Royal and barely started warming our seats when a little old lady arrived to take our drinks order. Agog at the speedy attendance, we mumbled we hadn’t decided yet, and the little old lady replied she would go and finish her cigarette and come back.
After processing our drinks order, the little old lady jumped the gun on us again with our food order, so we had to send her away again. I like to think of that as “a geriatric exercise regime in the work place”. Yes, I know, I really do deserve that United Nations humanitarian award.
Now for some reason of late I have found myself in social settings surrounded by, dare I say it… vegetarians. Shhh – now don’t tell my farming family up north. I’ll never get free meat again. And I have come to learn that menu’s are not a vegetarian’s friend.
Café Royale has no less than eight vegetarian burgers on their menu which, in my opinion, is eight too many. They also have an extensive list of pizzas, but the sprout eaters saw fit to alter both their orders. Our waitress, god bless her, just said no problem and brought us our food. And these weren’t those abominations McDonald’s serves up as hamburgers that you finish in four bites. These were the kind of hamburgers that give your mouth stretch marks when you try to bite into them. I am ashamed to admit I had no recourse but to take the top bun off and eat it separately.
Apparently they vegetarian burgers were very good. I resolutely and proudly refused to be lured over to the dark side by passing hamburger through my mouth that did not have dead animal in it.
After dinner, and consuming copious amounts of alcohol it was time for the solemn ceremony of the after-dinner-cigarette. Unfortunately I had already run out, so asked our waitress if they had a vending machine. To my utter dismay they hadn’t, and the nearest shop was across the street.
Now since I was not feeling particularly athletic, I transfixed the waitress with my best doe-eyed-look (of course a vegetarian would have no idea what I’m talking about here), and asked her if she would get me a packet, not really expecting a positive response. What I got was a smile and a “sure, no problem”. The last time I had been so shocked was when I learned my parents had actually had carnal relations with one another.
So perhaps there is a Santa Claus, pigs can fly and Tony Leon will be our next president. OK. So perhaps the last one’s a bit far fetched.
posted by Jeremy at 4:29 AM
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