“This place is incredible,” Ashley says, her eyes wide as saucers as the waiter leaves us with the menus after getting us seated. “The décor, the people – it must be so expensive.”
I shrug with an expansive smile. “It’s not so bad,” I say, lifting up my menu.
Ashley does the same, her eyes flicking down the right-hand column to the prices. They’re listed in Euros, but with no currency signs, no elaboration. A few dishes have no marks next to them at all. At only a single page, this menu is still one of the most costly in the city. Not that it matters to me, I was already planning to have a meal here. In fact, by cutting my guest list in half, Ashley has practically saved me money.
“What’s good here?” Ashley asks, looking at the menu with a puzzled expression. “I can’t read any of this. And what are those numbers? Those… those can’t be the prices?”
I laugh at her expression. “Personally, I enjoy the deconstructed ceviche or the chicken pasta.”
“Chicken pasta?” Ashley frowns. “That sounds… not as fancy as this place looks. Wait, what do Euros mean in dollars anyway? How much is all this?”
I lift the menu for her benefit and read directly from the listing, translating as I go. “Egg pasta tortellini with chicken broth and truffle oil,” I say. “The trick is in the ‘egg pasta’ part. It makes you think that the pasta is made with eggs. In fact, no. It’s served alongside eggs, separated exactly into yolks and whites, and placed just so. Three orange spheres glazed to make them look raw, but when you bite into them, they are perfectly cooked. It’s quite spectacular.”
“It sounds it,” Ashley says, thankfully distracted enough now from her questions about the value of the meal. I’m not going to allow her to pay, and I certainly won’t allow her to order a meal of a lower value just because she doesn’t want to spend my money.
“Then, I’ll order it for you,” I tell her. “It’s settled. For myself, I’ll order the ceviche, and you can try a little of it.”
Before Ashley can protest again, I beckon the waiter over and let him know what we want. He disappears with a silent and respectful nod, leaving us the chance to talk again.
“I’ve never been somewhere like this before,” Ashley says, with a kind of girlish enthusiasm, looking around everywhere. I’m not totally surprised, her father never was on the road to making himself a millionaire. I left Spain for America in order to make something of myself, and I returned with the kind of contacts and investment that would allow me to make good on that promise. Joe was someone I met in college, and even though we stayed close for a very long time, he never managed to make a career the way that I did.
“It’s where I have business dinners, usually,” I say, then grin. “Well, the biggest clients. The others get to go somewhere less luxurious. And I like to come here for leisure if I get the chance, too. The food is always top quality.”
“You come here often, then?”
“It’s my favorite restaurant.”
“What do you do for a living, anyway, Fernando?” Ashley asks me.
I give her a warning look. “Nando, remember? We’re on comfortable terms here. I’m in business.”
“In business?” Ashley repeats and laughs. “That’s not very precise.”
The waiter appears at her elbow with a bottle of water for the table and a pair of ice-chilled glasses; he sets them out and pours us each a glass. He’s soon replaced by another waiter with a couple of fruit juice cocktails which I picked out – virgin since I know Ashley won’t be used to drinking alcohol – and before we can manage to get back to the conversation, the next tray arrives with our food loaded on it.
Which works very nicely at distracting her from her question, which I don’t currently wish to answer. I’d rather she get to know me first, not my work.
Ashley stares in delight at her plate a brown sauce covers the very bottom of the plate with splashes of creamy white leaving a distinct pattern, all placed around a central tower of the tortellini topped with a chicken cream. The three eggs I promised sit around it, and at either end of the sauce, crispy fried egg whites dipped in the truffle oil until browned. It’s a great-looking dish, and a great-tasting one too.
I know Ashley agrees by the way that, on her first bite, her eyes slide closed and she moans in ecstasy. I barely even notice my ceviche as I watch her eat, each bite like a slice of heaven. She isn’t afraid to show her appreciation, her eyes rolling back in her head at each new flavor, exclamations of joy coming out of her mouth whenever it isn’t full.