Devetdesetdnevno žito

Gostilna v Kirkwallu je imela pet miz in ogenj. Vrata so se odpirala na ulico iz sivega kamna, na vrhu katere stoji stolnica. Polly je sedla za mizo najbliže toploti."Lahko vidim jedilni list?"je vprašala. Na kartici je bilo manj jedi, kot je pričakovala, in več domačih.

The bar in Kirkwall had five tables and a fire. The door opened onto a street of grey stone with the cathedral at the top. Polly took the table nearest the heat. "Can I see the menu?" she asked. The card had fewer things on it than she expected, and more of them local.

"Mi lahko priporočite kakšno dobro jed?"Lastnica je bila čaplja. Takoj je priporočila bannock. Bere je ječmen, ki ga tu gojijo že stoletja. Ljudje mu pravijo devetdesetdnevni ječmen, ker dozori dovolj hitro za kratko severno poletje. Zmlet v moko da plosk, temen bannock.

"Could you recommend a good dish?" The owner was a heron. She recommended the bannock at once. Bere is a barley they have grown here for centuries. People call it the ninety-day barley, because it ripens fast enough for a short northern summer. Ground into meal, it makes a flat, dark bannock.

"Imate vegetarijanske jedi?"je vprašala Polly. Čaplja je pokazala na isto vrstico na kartici. Bannock, maslo in crowdie, mehak sir, ki so ga na kmetijah delali od nekdaj. Isto žito gre tudi v žganjarno pod stolpom, ki obratuje od leta tisoč sedemsto osemindevetdeset.

"Do you have vegetarian options?" Polly asked. The heron pointed at the same line on the card. Bannock, butter and crowdie, the soft cheese the farms have always made. The same grain also goes to the distillery under the tower, working since seventeen ninety-eight.

"Lahko dobimo račun, prosim?"je rekla Polly, ko je bil krožnik prazen. Čaplja si je z njim vzela čas, kar je kompliment. Zunaj se je veter umiril na to, čemur otoki pravijo brezvetrje. Polly je šla po sivi ulici navzgor proti rdeči stolnici.

"Can we get the bill, please?" Polly said when the plate was empty. The heron took her time bringing it, which is a compliment. Outside, the wind had dropped to what the islands call still. Polly walked up the grey street toward the red cathedral.