|Mike placing his order for "mit" at Eataly|
|Cannelloni a la frances|
|One of the mini restaurants in Eataly|
|The gobbledy-gook Mike ordered tonight Sorry it's blurry. I was laughing.|
|Mu chicken...also blurry due to my laughing|
Mike, who hadn't even touched the plate holding the raw meat, tried to reason with that guy.
"I don't know what I'm doing," he said pointing to the plate. "Can you cook this?"
"Parle inglese?" I asked that guy almost simultaneously.
"No." Of course not.
"Boss? Manager? Chef?" Mike asked. The guy mumbled something, looked to his left and right, and then walked away. We figured he was going to get the manager or someone who could speak more than two words of English.
Five minutes passed, and we could see the waiters for that section — including our two — avoiding our area. If we turned our heads towards them, they turned around and walked a different way. Finally, the first guy had to bring food to the table next to us. Mike got his attention.
"Please, can you cook this?" Mike asked. "I can't eat raw meat."
"Caldo, per favore." I finally remembered the word for hot. (I do have to admit that I was laughing so hard that I could barely remember English words let alone Italian words. I should get a pass on this. ;-) )
"No. Gobbledy-gook," he said pointing at Mike's plate. "Hamburger caldo."
"Can I change? Mike was ready to beg. He motioned a change with his hands.
"Caldo. Caldo." I was trying to help.
"You? Hamburger?" he asked. Mike nodded, and the kid grabbed the plate and walked away.
"He's saying, 'Stupid Americans,'" I laughed.
Ten minutes later, he brought the hamburger (below).
"At least it's cooked a little more," Mike said of the quite rare burger.
"Does it taste all right?" I asked. I didn't want to mention this (and when he reads it, he finally know it), but I was afraid to ask if it tasted like beef or not. Europeans do eat horse meat.
|The cooked hamburger|
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the second waiter watching us. He never approached our area again until after we left. I don't know if he was afraid of what we would ask or was concerned that I would burst out laughing every few minutes especially after the guy at another table near us ordered whatever it was that Mike had at first. He apparently knew what he was ordering because he put lemon and salt on it and ate it with gusto. Ugh.
|Pastries from the Eataly pastry shoppe|
|The coffee bar in Eataly|