April 2, 2007

  • New Arrival

    If anyone has ever read the famous
    Waiter Rant blog (www.waiterrant.net)
    they will know one of the least impressive things to say when wanting
    a table at the restaurant is "But I'm friends with the owner".
    It is one of many things that will rub a waiter the wrong way and
    ensure that you get the worst table in the house, assuming you get
    one at all.

    Slovenian food, from what I can make of
    it from the last few days here, has a massive Italian influence. Not
    too surprising really, when you consider the new office is a mere 50
    metres from the Italian border. It must have been strange, during the
    Communist era of Yugoslavia, to have been so close to freedom. The
    technology park that houses our office block is built on former
    customs house land, agonisingly close to the western world that the
    vast majority of people under the Yugoslav government, that was
    leaned on heavily by the Soviets, craved just twenty years ago.
    Almost within their grasp, but with a heavily guarded border, freedom
    must also have seemed but a dream.

     

    After a ten day war, Slovenia, which
    had never before had any kind of independence, was declared a
    sovereign state, and thus a new country was born. Compared to its
    neighbours to the south and east, it was a relatively peaceful
    transition, and now Slovenia is a part of the European Union, and the
    dream of freedom and western decadence has become a reality.

    Spagetti, pizza, tiramisu and all kinds
    of specialities that you would consider Italian abound in their
    cuisine, and there is an amazing array of wine from small vintners,
    growing grapes on just about every small field available. And from
    the few that I have been fortunate to try so far, they are also very
    good.

    One of my partners here has a lot of
    contacts in the town (the 4th largest in Slovenia) which
    has a mere 50,000 inhabitants, but there are really only one or two
    places that are worthy of a visit for food. One of them is the Marco
    Polo club, which just happens to be owned by the guy who is
    bankrolling this new project – Mr Money himself. Another is a very
    trendy nouvelle cuisine type lounge bar/restaurant, where the partner
    has an account. Having dined there last night for the second time,
    and having sampled their excellent spagetti with tomato and asparagus
    (and also the best tiramisu in Slovenia – apparently) I can say
    that my partner has excellent taste.

    However, getting good food at lunchtime
    is not quite so easy, and with my partner heading across the border
    to Italy this afternoon, it was a rushed affair. So we headed to a
    local place, where both of us were treated (if you will) to a very
    bland and tasteless meal. It was the most dissatisfying meal I have
    had in a long time, and so this evening, after work, I was in need of
    something nice to eat. After leaving my laptop in my hotel room I
    headed down to the dining room.

    A smile greeted me as I entered the
    room – not from a waiter or waitress, but from Mr Money who was
    sitting there deep in discussion with an older gentleman.

    "Rob, sit down," he said,
    pointing to a seat opposite him.

    "This is my father," he
    continued, introducing me.

    There then ensued a conversation in
    Slovenian, Mr Money explaining that I was there to help develop the
    new products.

    "What new products?" Mr Money
    Senior asked. "I don't know anything about that!"

    "You should," Mr Money Junior
    explained. "You're paying for them."

    Laughs all round.

    Mr Money Senior saw that I was reading
    a book – Bangkok Tattoo – and asked me about it.

    "It's all about Thai prostitutes,
    drugs and corrupt cops," I said, trying my best to make the
    explanation as concise and interesting as possible.

    "Forget the drugs and cops, but
    the prostitutes sound good," smiled Mr Money Senior.

    Laughs all round again. Not sure how I
    would react if my pops made such a comment about hookers, but my old
    man is not Mr Money senior.

    After a few minutes Messrs Money
    departed, leaving me to enjoy my noodles and vegetables in peace. I
    drank a glass of local wine, and got the immediate respect of the
    waiter here. As a guest of the owner of the hotel, they look after me
    well. I get as much cappuccino as I can drink for breakfast, and at
    only 80 cents per cup, I can more than afford one after my dinner
    too.

    Now I love Italian food – I really do
    – but after 5 days of being in Europe, it's getting somewhat tired.
    I need some spice. I need some tofu. I need some good Chinese food.
    Just over a week and I will be able to enjoy that once more. But
    until then, I will enjoy the hospitality of my partners. Being
    friends of the owners is a very good thing, and something I have no
    intention of ruining. It also shows that I have definitely arrived.