I am Mae German. 34 years old. Born in Mangatarem, province of Pangasinan. I was taught and trained by 
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The Writer Within The Setting
The Writer Within The Setting | The Setting |
| Sunday, 02 August 2009 | |
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<< Previous Story "One cup of hot chocolate and..." "... a grilled ensaymada." The waiter finished her sentence for her. She's a regular at the restaurant that she has discovered a few months ago, and for the past few days, she has been ordering the same thing. Hot chocolate and the grilled ensaymada, a very soft bread with margarine, sugar, and grated cheese. They remind her of some good old days in the Manila. Her friend used to work in Red Ribbon Bakeshop and they serve a good cup of hot chocolate and a delightful ensaymada. Good combination. Charles. He taught her how to grill ensaymada and top it with confectionery sugar, the Red-Ribbon-Bakeshop way. "Thank you," she said, giving the waiter a big smile. "Don't wait up here. We'll bring your order to where you're seated and of course, it'll be on your favorite spot," with a commanding voice, the waiter told her. Giving her a sweet smile and a wink after she punched-in her order on the registry. The restaurant, if one should take a minute to look at its complicated interior, has three divisions and a small stage where Indie bands would perform at night. There's a bar, filled with glasses, booze, and bongs, a snack bar with tiny but well-chosen sophisticated tables and chairs, and a sit-down area where everything looks formal. The family-style, as she prefers calling it. The bars have the sign "self-service" and she prefers both bars. Needless to say, she has never tried the family-style. "Would you like to have your meal in our sit-down area?" one time a waiter asked her, having ordered a main dish complete with soup and dessert. The answer was no. She has found her comfort zone in that restaurant-- the snack bar. So, self-service is self-service. You have to wait for your name to be called then be the one to claim your order, that's the way things were done at the bars. Their bars, she corrected herself. But today was different. For her, at least. They were extra nice to her and she wonder why. The girl who took her order did not even ask her name. Probably because she's been frequenting the shop and they have noticed that. Who would not remember anyone who's been going in and out of that restaurant since the day of its opening, anyway? she thought. Right, she fell in love with the place the first time she saw it. It has a cool ambiance. There's a cozy warmth inside. There's something there that makes her feel at home. And she loved the place more for the affordable food and drinks that they offer. They play good music, too. Simple but elegant, she keeps repeating. Zagat surveyors would give the resto/bar a good rating, she bet. She wandered her eyes around the room. She smiled. The waiter was right. She sits on the chair near the huge glass window. Her favorite spot. "This way, I could see what's going on inside and what's happening outside," she said to herself. She remembers Mervin. They used to eat in a fast-food store with a huge window like that. She met Mervin in the streets of Manila. He was playing chato. "Hmm... What happened to that boy", she asked herself. She left without saying goodbye and she felt a pang of guilt now. "I wish I have his address," she sighs. "Here's your usual order, your fave for this month, eh?" her thought was interrupted by the waiter. Shiela. So, that was her server's name. She gave a partly suppressed laugh, more of a cluck. She gave Shiela a big grin in return while the girl was setting her table. "Thank you," she said, "you didn't have to bring me my order, but thank you so much... uhh, Shiela." She has two friends with that name, Shiela. The i comes before the e. And she has one with the same name but the e comes before the i. Sheila and Shiela. Obviously, her mind never runs out of things to say. "Oh! You're welcome. It is our pleasure. You've been with us since day one," there's that chipper voice again coming from Shiela. She wonders why. She wanted to ask why but settled in to another question. "Are you new in this kind of job, Shiela?" She has no idea why she asked that. The girl seems to know what she's doing. "Yes. This is my first paying-job in this country and I am grateful that the manager took me in knowing that I have no background in rendering food service," Shiela told her while she was trying to find something from their menu. "And I try to help around when the place is not busy and packed with people," she continued. Yes, she thought. Shiela was supposed to be behind the registry, taking in people's orders and punching in. She looked around and saw the place has only five people. Two elderly couples and her, the lonely planet. It's a Saturday and it was only nine in the morning. Who, in their right minds, would wake up early on a Saturday? she thought. If not for her dream last night, she would be on her bed, under her favorite fleece blanket. She couldn't get herself to sleep some more after she was awakened by that dream. She decided to take a walk along the street but changed her mind when she saw that her favorite restaurant was already open for the day. She usually comes in late in the afternoon. Today, she's thinking of making two visits. Maybe dinner time. "Oh! There, I got it," Shiela blurted, having found what she was trying to look for inside their laminated menu. She handed her a page. "We know that you have tried almost everything in our menu," Shiela carried on. She was surprised when she noticed her use of the pronoun, we, in her sentences. "And we were amazed how you make it a point to try everything that we have," there was the we again, she thought. She wanted to ask but she knew Shiela was into something more interesting than her thoughts. "Our head chef has a new dish and he said he wanted you to try it soon," there she said it, pointing at the laminated page that she's handed her a moment ago. She wanted to comment on the photo but decided not to. She would if she's really in the mood, but the food looks interesting, she thought. Was it rice? She tries to read what was written. "Tabbouleh," Shiela finally said. It was obvious that the word was also new to her. "It's a salad with wheat, chopped parsley, diced tomatoes, some mint leaves, black olives, scallions, green onions, chopped cucumber, dressed with olive oil and lemon, topped with egg and feta cheese... whew! That was long. I had to memorize that last night. The ingredients, I mean. In case someone asks." Shiela was laughing after she was done telling her all the ingredients. "That was a good try!" She told her, "So! It wasn't rice at all," she said, pointing at the photo. It'll be her first time to try wheat grains. She has always liked wheat in bread. "Yes, that's wheat. Our chef said it's a Lebanese salad. I have tried it but I don't like the sour taste on it," she turned red after she said that, "Oh my... I am not supposed to say that! Not to a customer, right? Oh my..." "It's all right. I did not hear anything after the Lebanese salad," she said laughing at her. Nothing seems to bother her when it comes to food-tasting, anyway. If someone would say that the taste is revolting, the more she would want to try it. "All right, since I am having my usual order this morning, this, I will have tonight," she finally told Shiela. "It's definitely something to look forward to, I guess." She finished, seeing Shiela's face turning back from red to her usual pale complexion, made her feel better. "It's a date then!" Shiela said. "Thank you. I will let everybody in the kitchen know about this," she continued while taking the menu that she has presented. They both looked at the door when it opened. There was a tiny chime hanging at the door knob. A young lady wearing a black shirt and a rugged pants came in. Shiela had to rush back to her post. "Oh! And Shiela," she said before the girl left her table, "for a first-timer in this kind of job, you are doing great," she wanted to say that and she meant it. Shiela thanked her profusely. This morning she felt better, she said. She may have had an odd dream last night that kept her from getting more sleep on a Saturday, but she thinks, for whatever reason that she was kept awake, it was worth it. She has something to look forward to again on a Saturday night. There was an excitement that she couldn't explain but she is happy. It's been a while, she said. It's been a while that she had something to look forward to on a Saturday night. And it is food, she added, humoring herself. And Shiela called it a date. How shallow she has become, she thought, or maybe, that was her all along. ------------------------------ The chapters: [1] Probably Never [2] Probably Again [3] Icebox Read also: Mervin [1] Chapter 1 [2] Chapter 2 |
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