"Isn't there supposed to be tasso in this?" I asked.
She was in a hurry. She was very busy. She leaned over and glanced at the bowl, "I'll check on it for you," she said, smiling a cute little smile as she picked up her tray and, with one hand, lifted the folding stand on which it was sitting.
"No big deal," I smiled.
Conversations crossed the table, some casual and some business casual. I didn't really engage in any of them. I speared a shrimp, covered in spices, and some pasta and tasted it. Amazing, truly. Lifting my short, broad wine glass, I swirled the red Pinot around and then smelled it. I was trying to discern distinct aromas, but it just smelled like wine to me. I drank a sip and tried to make it touch every taste bud as I swallowed it. It just tasted like good wine to me.
A band of old men played Cajun music, which is discernable from Zydeco music once you've heard them both with a critical ear. Fiddle, squeeze box, acoustic guitar and triangle, just like Led Zeppelin in the early days.
"Was there a problem with your order, sir?" his Acadian accent was thick. He was the owner of the restaurant, well-known by the locals.
"Oh no. It was excellent. Just excellent. Thank you," I replied, shaking his outstretched hand.
"I was told it was not what you expected. If you were displeased at all, it's on me."
"You are under no obligation to fulfill my misconceptions, sir." This made him laugh. I continued, "The food was amazing. You should charge me extra."
"Okay, I will." He continued to laugh and gave me a pat on the shoulder as he walked off.
Down the table, someone was talking about local politics. The bread pudding arrived and people began to order coffee. They serve Mello Joy, not Community Coffee, in many restaurants in this town. It's more local, more purely Acadian.
They use more spice down here. It's even in their food.
