Stôl pre jednu

Mia vošla do malej reštaurácie tesne pred deviatou. Jedáleň byla takmer prázdna. Čašník v bielej zástere s unavenými očami ukázal na stôl v rohu.

Mia walked into the small restaurant just before nine. The dining room was almost empty. A waiter with a white apron and tired eyes pointed at a corner table.

"Len jedna?" spýtal sa. Mia prikývla. Vždy cestovala sama a vždy sa trochu nervózne cítila, keď objednávala v novom jazyku. Jedálny lístok bol na jednom papieri, napísaný rukou.

"Just one?" he asked. Mia nodded. She always traveled alone, and she always felt a little nervous ordering in a new language. The menu was on a single sheet of paper, handwritten.

Ukázala na slovo, ktorému nerozumela. Čašník sa prvýkrát usmial. "To je dnešná špecialita," povedal pomaly po anglicky. "Recept mojej babičky. Skúste to. Ak sa vám to nebude páčiť, prinesiem niečo iné."

She pointed at a word she did not understand. The waiter smiled for the first time. "Is the special of the day," he said in slow English. "My grandmother's recipe. Try it. If you don't like it, I bring something else."

Jedlo prišlo v ťažkej hlinenej miske. Horúce, cesnakové, plné malých kúskov chleba. Mia opatrne ochutnala prvú lyžicu a pozrela hore. Čašník ju pozoroval od baru so založenými rukami.

The food arrived in a heavy clay bowl. Hot, garlicky, full of small pieces of bread. Mia took a careful first spoonful and looked up. The waiter was watching from the bar with his arms crossed.

Ukázala mu palec nahor. Zasmial sa, prišiel k nej a dolial jej do pohára. "Dobré," povedal. "Zajtra príďte znovu a poviem vám, čo je v tom."

She gave him a thumbs up. He laughed, walked over, and refilled her glass. "Good," he said. "Tomorrow you come back and I tell you what's in it."