Читать книгу The Meaning of Friday - Vanessa Gordon - Страница 14

5

Day’s favourite restaurant, Taverna O Thanasis, was on the main road at the end of Filoti nearest Day’s new house. As he and Helen walked past the outdoor tables to the door of the taverna, Thanasis greeted them hospitably. The tables inside were laid with blue cloths topped with white cotton squares, neatly fastened with elastic beneath the table rim. Traditional wooden chairs with woven seats, and sepia photos on the walls, completed the traditional feel of the taverna. There was a delicious smell from the kitchen. They chose a table, accepted menus, and Thanasis brought a bottle of cold water and two glasses.

“Thanasi, may I introduce my friend, Helen?”

“I’m delighted to meet you, Kyria. Martin has been looking forward to your arrival, and so have we. Did you have a good journey?”

“Very good, thank you. Martin tells me the food here is the best on Naxos!”

“Then I shall bring you some excellent small plates to start. And for main course this evening we have some goat cooked slowly in a red sauce, some cockerel with pasta, or, if you prefer fish, I have some fresh sardines.”

Day asked for some local red wine while they chose their food, and watched as Thanasis walked purposefully towards the kitchen. He handed a menu to Helen and opened one himself. He sighed happily.

“Chicken for me, I think,” he said. “Lots of chips. And we’d better have a salad. What would you like?”

“Not sure. Definitely a salad with plenty of beautiful Greek tomatoes. I’ve missed them!”

Thanasis returned with a large jug of red wine, followed by his daughter carrying a tray of small dishes to tempt their appetites. Thanasis introduced the food with pride.

“Something to begin! This is village sausage, this fried aubergine, and here a small fava. I hope you enjoy. Kali orexi, Martin, Kyria.”

“I’d be happy if you’d call me Helen,” she suggested.

“Ah, yes,” the Greek beamed. “Helen, the most beautiful woman who ever lived! It suits you, Kyria. Helen.”

Gratified, Thanasis returned to the kitchen. Day reached across to the bread basket in which serviette-wrapped pairs of cutlery nestled among pieces of fresh crusty bread. Placing cutlery at both their places, he then passed the basket so she could reach the bread. These odd little gallantries were customary with him, she remembered.

“You’ve made your first conquest, Helen!” he murmured.

“Don’t be silly, Martin!”

They started on the food with enthusiasm. The small plates of appetisers were delicate, and the bread fresh. The thin slices of aubergine had been lightly dusted with fine batter which had crisped in the frying. The village sausage was served in dainty pieces and wallowed in a sauce rich with tomato. Best of all was the fava, yellow split-pea dip, slightly warm and topped with a splash of green olive oil and crunchy bits of finely chopped onion.

They ordered a portion of cockerel, a Greek salad and some fries. Thanasis persuaded them that instead of fries they should try his wife’s home-style fried potatoes, which were slices of the waxy local potatoes perfectly crisped in the oven and topped with oregano and olive oil.

They shared all the dishes between them and Day admitted that the home-fried potato slices were superb, even for a lover of chips such as himself. The potatoes on Naxos had a well-deserved reputation for excellence. He raised his glass to her with a sense of theatre. “Here’s to a wonderful, productive summer in the Cyclades. A great new novel for you, the biography of a generation for me, and a great deal of down-time and good food!”

“To the summer!”

Day waved the empty wine jug in Thanasis’s direction and caught his eye. “Thanasi, another jug please, just a small one.”