A Table for One

Mia walked into the small restaurant just before nine. The dining room was almost empty. A waiter with a white apron and tired eyes pointed at a corner table.

Mia vošla do malej reštaurácie tesne pred deviatou. Jedáleň byla takmer prázdna. Čašník v bielej zástere s unavenými očami ukázal na stôl v rohu.

"Just one?" he asked. Mia nodded. She always traveled alone, and she always felt a little nervous ordering in a new language. The menu was on a single sheet of paper, handwritten.

"Len jedna?" spýtal sa. Mia prikývla. Vždy cestovala sama a vždy sa cítila trochu nervózne, keď si objednávala v novom jazyku. Jedálny lístok bol na jednom kuse papiera, písaný rukou.

She pointed at a word she did not understand. The waiter smiled for the first time. "Is the special of the day," he said in slow English. "My grandmother's recipe. Try it. If you don't like it, I bring something else."

Ukázala na slovo, ktorému nerozumela. Čašník sa po prvýkrát usmial. "To je dnešná špecialita," povedal pomalou angličtinou. "Recept mojej babičky. Skúste to. Ak sa vám to nebude páčiť, prinesiem niečo iné."

The food arrived in a heavy clay bowl. Hot, garlicky, full of small pieces of bread. Mia took a careful first spoonful and looked up. The waiter was watching from the bar with his arms crossed.

Jedlo prišlo v ťažkej hlinenej miske. Horúce, cesnakové, plné malých kúskov chleba. Mia opatrne ochutnala prvú lyžicu a pozrela hore. Čašník ju pozoroval od baru so skríženými rukami.

She gave him a thumbs up. He laughed, walked over, and refilled her glass. "Good," he said. "Tomorrow you come back and I tell you what's in it."

Ukázala mu palec hore. Zasmiał sa, prišiel k nej a dolial jej do pohára. "Dobré," povedal. "Zajtra príďte znovu a poviem vám, čo je v tom."