Saturday, 30 April 2016

Z is for Zilche Zakouska


We went off to the local Greek place last night called Jim's Greek Tavern and it should surprise you not at all that we ate ZILCH ZAKOUSKA, cos it was a Greek place not Russian so no vodka or caviar and actually no chance to even place an order cos you just get what you get given.

It is a wonderful cavernous place that at least on this Friday night was completely heaving with loud pissed people who arrive carrying in cartons of wine...yep not a bottle, but a fucking carton! I reckon it's clear they had been there before cos they knew just how high they needed to hoist those cartons so to avoid knocking the shit out of anyone's heads as they strode towards their table.

So we waited for our table to be cleared in some strange bar across the road and downed a pint until it was our turn to join the circus.

We were seated by not-so-mr-smiley, let's call him George, who quickly noticed we arrived sans carton and so offered us a house wine as they aren't licensed. What the very fuck? No Beers? So we chose white wine and then thought we might have a lively look through the menu.

Yeh ...No ....No menu! So George asked us if we wanted dips. 'Yes Please!'

Then he asked us if we wanted .... ??????? can't hear you ???? calamari frittes...Missed that bit...??? Nope Missed it again. So I said slowly that yes some calamari frittes would be good, and maybe some Kleftiko and sauted potatoes, he nodded and said no potatoes you can have salad. Righto then!

The dips were delicious and the bread plentiful and then there was Greek salad and lashings of Calamari and the biggest wedge of lemon I have ever seen. Must have been some fucking lemon I reckon.

And then we waited. All manner of food was being delivered to tables. Noone had seen a menu but all manner of stuff was being chomped. Flat fish and sardines and more calamaris and salad and more bread and that's just nearby us.

We waited and Stevie struggled through the carafe of house white.

It seemed pretty clear that everyone else knew the rules except us.

And they had all arrived at the start of a session and we had lobbed in in the middle of a session.

The programme called for dips and bread, then salad, then fish, then I guess finally meat.

But we didn't know this cos we forgot to buy a programme.

Anyway, well after the last of the frittes had been flung down our throats, and the wine had been drained and we were both bleeding from the ears cos of the noise, we asked George for the bill cos honestly we were full up to pussy's bow and didn't need the meat which may or may not have been forthcoming, anyway.

The bill was impressive in it's brevity, and obscurity.

I don't know how George did the add ups and maybe the total included a surcharge for the dinner theatre, but it was cheap and dear at the same time.



We left full of food and merriment.

We'd definitely go back but next time we'd ask more questions, get there at the right time, and remember to take our own carton.