Wednesday, March 08, 2006

A fitting End.

It was for Carol the last day of her short working holiday here in Spain. Her suitcase was packed and she was almost ready to go.

We had the evening to look forward to and had booked a table at the Resturant Mas Pla. Olga and Angel the owners were always welcoming and eager to please.

The local black wine ´vino negre´was appropriate for the meat dishes we would probably choose a steak for me and Carol may have the same but with a salsa on the side. (not a dance but a sauce)

Olga returned to the table and adressed Carol.

"Do you like Wilbur?"
"Wilbur?"
"Si, es con salsa"
"Wilbur is it a fish, pescado?"
"No es carne con sasla, it is the special for today only for you!"
"Thank you, but I´m not sure what it is!"
Olga turned to me and repeated Wilbur several times, becoming more hesitant with each repeated word. As her speech slowed the word Wilbur was fragmented to Wil- bur; and then it clicked,
" Wild Boar!" I exclaimed.
"Si Wil(d)bur" repeated Olga clearly pleased to have got through to us at last.
Carol joined in "Oh yes, I like the sound of that I will have Wild Boar."

Angel served his special dish of the day in a cast iron casserole dish, the dark coloured meat was covered in a dark salsa with a few vegatables incorporated in the dish.

"Look ´Gravy´" said Olga.
Both she and Carol laughed at their private joke. They had often talked of Carol´s liking for salsa english style.

Angel was pleased that his special was well received. Carol was contented and Olga could now relax.

Wilbur the wild boar had spent his short life running free in the woods of the Alt Emporda countryside. That was until he was shot by a hunter, he was destined to be the final serving of wild boar dished up on the last day of the hunting season.

Wild? I bet wilbur was furious!

1 comment:

S.Lime said...

Like the story Hans, I guess Wilbur would have been a little miffed in those final moments when all past glories flashed by. I would think the last thought would be "you bas**d"!!
Have you thought of a career move to writing stories. Must be from all the tales you heard from apprehended low lifes and some not so low. "Wasn't me guv I found it, fell off a lorry, delivered by mistake."