…then there was Vodka
“An excellent choice sir”, said the waiter, using an English phrase he’d probably picked up from some film*.
I’m sitting in Moskva (”Moscow”), an upmarket Russian restaurant in central Sofia, with my mother and Ray. The carpet is thick, the tablecloths are immaculate and the elaborate chandeliers hang from a pristine white ceiling with gold trimmings topping the deep maroon walls. We’ve all just enjoyed a traditional Russian meal of various dishes including lapsha (chicken noodle soup, pelmeni (stuffed pasta) and chicken kiev complemented by some excellent Bulgarian merlot, plus some fabulous live entertainment from a pianist/vocalist and violinist playing everything from Russian classic to Russian folk.
The waiter, whose precise nationality is uncertain, has been decidedly surly all evening, but this may just be part of the authentic Russian experience. However, his opinion of us seems to be enhanced considerably when we decide to finish the meal off with my favourite vodka. The waiting team swarm around us with frozen shot glasses and from a great height pour in the 50ml shots of frozen Nemiroff, fresh from the Ukraine. This establishment knows how to dispense the stuff properly.
*If you can name the film, put it in a comment below. For the first correct answer I’ll buy a shot of Nemiroff.
