Grimm Times at the Fusion-Lit Bistro

Last year, the participants of the German Literature Month went on a virtual tour to a famous destination in a Germanic novel.  This year, the bloggers are back on the bus to celebrate the end of the trip with a meal - at a strange restaurant some readers of my blog may have encountered before.  You may like to peruse these earlier posts before you continue with today's offering - then again you may not.  Either way, what follows is unlikely to make much sense...  Guten Appetit!

*****
[The camera fades in from black to reveal a large coach pulling up in a quiet street in a town somewhere in the north of Germany.  Through the gently falling snow, the words “German Literature Month Tour Bus” can be seen on the side facing us.  After a few moments, a group of people slowly begin to get off the bus, stamping and shivering as they are reacquainted with the harsh, north-German winter.  Across the road, there is an old building, a strange mix of styles with a faded sign above the door, reading FUSION LIT BISTRO...]

Caroline: Nice of you to arrange a meal for the end of German Literature Month, Tony... [Glances at the restaurant] ...but are you sure this is the place?
Tony: Don't worry - I know it doesn't look much, but it specialises in literary diners.  Believe me, the food is great. [Under his breath] The service, however...  

[The bloggers cross the road and stoop to pass through a small, ancient-looking doorway... 
 
They enter a busy restaurant. It seems as if there is some kind of party going on, perhaps fancy dress.  Most of the women appear to be princesses with long, flowing hair, although some are wearing red cloaks and carrrying baskets.  A group of men dressed as animals are standing on a stage, pretending to play various musical instruments.  As the bloggers pass, they stop - the imaginary music goes quiet. Tony swiftly leads the group past the musicians to a collection of tables near the back of the restaurant, each of which has a sign with 'Reserved' written on it in Gothic script.  On each table, there are six burgundy, leather-bound menus with Fusion Lit Bistro written on them in gold script. As the newcomers begin to arrange themselves around the tables, a tall, gaunt waiter approaches unhurriedly and elegantly, allowing the new guests to sit down before he arrrives.]

Waiter: I see you made it - I must admit, I had my doubts.
Tony: [Smiling] As I said on the phone, the fairytale special for a party of thirty...

[The bloggers sit down at the table.  Tony is seated between Lizzy and Caroline, while the other places are filled by Gary, Stu and Tom.  Tony spots the usual blank name tag on The Waiter's jacket and appears to be about to say something, but obviously thinks better of it.]

Waiter: Let me just explain today's menu.  While we usually offer a wide selection of literary delights for your pleasure, today, in honour of the anniversary, our menu consists entirely of Grimm'sche tales, a little gem each and every one.  If you'd like to have a brief look at your menus...

[The diners pick up their menus.  As they open them, rolls of parchment cascade out of the binders, each with a long list of items written on it...]

Waiter:  A wonderful selection.  You can't really go wrong here... [Pauses] ...although I wouldn't try anything with apples.
Stu:  [Confused] There are hundreds here!  How are we supposed to choose...
Gary: A couple of everything maybe?
Waiter: [Coughs] Might I suggest the Reich-Ranicki special?
Caroline: What's that?
Waiter: It's a choice selection of the finest cuts, guaranteed to suit the pickiest of diners.  Perhaps you might like to order a few of those...
Tony: That sounds good.  OK, we'll have six of the Reich-Ranicki specials, with Rapunzel chasers please, Rumpelstiltskin.

[The Waiter takes the menus and turns on one heel to stalk off back to the kitchen, somehow indicating his complete disdain despite his silence.]

Tony: [Weakly] Sorry.  I thought it was worth a shot...

[The bloggers wait in silence while their order is being prepared.  As they look around the restaurant, they notice that the room is not quite as crowded as it was when they arrived.  A few waitresses in glass slippers are clearing up the mess diners have left behind.  A sudden scream pierces the air, causing the party to visibly jump.  Once the sound has died away, the guests examine their table more closely.]

Tom: Have you noticed the cutlery?
Lizzy: [Looking at the knife and fork in front of her] What about it?
Tom: Smell it...
Lizzy: [Picks up the fork and sniffs it uncertainly] Is it...
Tom: Yep - gingerbread.

[Silence again.  Caroline looks at the table's centrepiece, a beautiful metallic statue, and stretches out to touch it.]

Caroline: This is lovely - what do you think it's made from?
Waiter: [Returning with the order] Recycled spinning wheels.

[Caroline snatches back her hand as if she's just been bitten.]

Waiter: [Putting the order on the table] Guten Appetit - just let me know if you need anything else...

[The bloggers tuck into the assorted platter, and for a while there is little to be heard other than the digestion of the morsels and the occasional groan from the direction of the kitchens.  After a while, the diners start to discuss the meal...]

Stu: Great, I really enjoyed that.
Gary: Unusual, but a nice change from the rest of the month.
Caroline: They do slip down nicely, but I'm not sure... I'd have liked something a bit meatier.
Tony: [Speaking with his mouth full] I liked it, a bit sweet at times, but with a bitter aftertaste. [Sighs] You know what they say - A moment on the lips,...
Tom: ...a lifetime of waking up screaming with flashbacks.

[Tony smiles nervously, then grimaces, bending over the table.  He looks up and beckons The Waiter.]

Waiter: Yes?
Tony: I think something must have disagreed with me.  Could you remind me where the toilets are?
Waiter: Just look down.
Tony: Sorry?

[The Waiter looks down at the floor.  Tony follows his gaze and sees a trail of white breadcrumbs leading off into the distance.]

Waiter: Just follow the trail...
Tony: Oh, right.  Thanks.

[Tony hurries off in search of the toilets.  The Waiter casts a scrutinising glance at the remaining diners and moves off towards the kitchen.  The other five bloggers look at one another uneasily.]

Tom: [Looking around] Have you noticed that there are fewer people now?  I haven't seen anyone actually leave through the exit though.  And all those screams...
Lizzy: Come to think of it, it's getting pretty hot in here too.  [Nervously] Those ovens must be pretty big back there.
Stu: But the food wasn't particularly warm...
Gary: [Looking around] Is it just me, or does that waitress have a bit more facial hair than you'd expect? Although she does have very white teeth - very big white teeth...
Caroline: Perhaps we should...

[The five bloggers stand up as one and dash for the exit.  Stu bowls over a waitress in a red cloak, sending her basket flying.  As the other members of the group see them run, they panic, and flee the restaurant too, overturning tables and scattering gingerbread cutlery all over the floor.

The Waiter returns to a room empty of customers - the only sound is the groaning of various figures in costume getting up off the ground.  He sighs.

Tony returns from his untimely trip to the toilet.]

Tony: [Looks around, confused] Wh... where is everyone?

Waiter: [Smoothly] They'll be back soon, they're just on a guided tour of the kitchens.  It's a special feature of today's event.  Would you like to...
Tony: Of course!  Is there anything special to see?
Waiter: Well, there is a very big oven...

[Tony and the Waiter walk towards the kitchens.  In the background, you can hear the sound of a bus racing away into the distance...]

Dinner for Two at the Fusion-Lit Bistro

Today's post may make more sense if you read this one first.  Then again, it may not...

[The camera fades in from black to reveal a quiet restaurant; not full, not empty. A few people are standing chatting at the bar over drinks - dinner jackets and cocktail dresses aplenty. We start to zoom in gently to the entrance, on the left of our picture. Tony is walking into the restaurant, chatting to a middle-aged man of Asian appearance as they make their way to a table in the corner.  From the right, a tall, gaunt waiter approaches unhurriedly and elegantly, carrying two burgundy leather-bound menus with Fusion Lit Bistro written on the front in gold script.  The name tag on his jacket is, as always, blank.  He stops neatly at Tony's table and offers the menu to the newly-arrived guests.]

Waiter: [Bowing] Good evening, sir. Nice to see you here again.
Tony: Thank you! [Smiles] I had such an enjoyable meal last time that...
Waiter: [Addressing Tony's companion] Yes, always nice to have you here Mr. Ishiguro.  Our guests do so enjoy your creations - delectable one and all.

[He hands the menu to Ishiguro, who opens it and peruses the offerings.  Tony goes to take the other menu, only for the waiter to absent-mindedly swap it to his other hand and tuck it under his arm, causing Tony to overbalance slightly and bang his elbow on the table.]

Ishiguro: [Handing the menu back to the waiter] I think, on the whole, as it is the reason we are meeting, I would like to try The Unconsoled here.  Lightly poached, please.  [He nods to the waiter.]  Thank you, Stevens.
Waiter: [Bows] An excellent choice sir.
Tony: [Rubbing his elbow with barely concealed irritation] I'll have The Unconsoled too, Stevens, medium-rare please...
Waiter: [With a look of great disdain] That doesn't surprise me at all...  And no.
Tony: But, but... he... [Pointing to Ishiguro, who is casually surveying the restaurant's interior]  ...he called you Stevens.
Waiter: A man of Mr. Ishiguro's talents can call me what he wants.  If he so desires, I'm happy to answer to Betty.  [Tony opens his mouth to speak.] Don't.  Even.  Think. About. It. [Tony slumps back in his seat, slightly abashed.]

[The waiter strides off into the distance carrying the two menus, muttering something to himself which could be construed as 'imbecile bloggers'.  Tony sits in his place, apparently counting to ten under his breath, then turns to his dinner partner.]

Tony: So, tell me a little about today's choice then, it sounds rather intriguing...

Ishiguro: [Smiling] Well, it is rather different from my usual fare, a little more surreal, one might say.  Eastern European undertones, a man not quite sure why he is where he is, dream-like excursions through the chill night...  I rather think it's one to be judged on reflection, as a whole, not evaluated in a single mouthful, as it were...

[He is interrupted by the return of the waiter, who carefully lays down two objects on the table.]

Waiter: I thought, sir, that these amuse-bouches would complement your choice...

Tony: [Peering across] What have you brought us this time, Gustav? [The waiter glares at Tony, who sits back in his seat and suddenly finds the need to examine his nails in minute detail.]

Waiter: [To Ishiguro] A pair of minor delights, A Family Supper and A Village after Dark - these should whet the appetite. [He bows and then strides off, glancing once, disdainfully, over his shoulder at Tony as he leaves.]

Ishiguro: Please try these.  They're not high-class creations, but I'm fairly happy with them.  A Village after Dark is a sort of preparation for the main course, an interim stage towards creating The Unconsoled.  A Family Supper, on the other hand is a little Japanese something I whipped up.

[Tony tries the two items carefully.]

Tony: Mmm, very nice.  Delicate and yet unmistakeably from the same creator.  [He looks to one side as if thinking.]  Definitely a hint of seafood in A Family Supper - perhaps...

Ishiguro: Fugu.

[Tony gags momentarily, before recovering and taking a sip of water.  The waiter returns with the main course, and the two men set to their task in silence.  Later, the waiter returns to take the remnants away, and the two diners sit back in their chairs.]

Ishiguro: So, what did you think?

Tony: It was wonderful!  As you said, very complex, not one for the casual diner.  From the first mouthful, there were strong undertones of Kafka, especially The Castle, but the more you allow it to linger on the taste-buds, the more original and bolder it becomes.  Definitely hints of dream analysis there, lots of Freudian touches, sublimation and condensation and all that - intriguing use of location, allowing our friend Ryder to move from one building to another easily, even when they are apparently miles away.  

Ishiguro: And what did you think of the family element?

Tony: [Enthusiastically] Oh, I loved that, I loved the way that the whole thing read like a session of psycho-analysis for Ryder.  You could see the various characters and families as different aspects of Ryder himself, trying to work through his family issues, step-fathers, alcoholism.  Really excellent!  But...

Ishiguro: Yes?

Tony: Well... [Pauses]  Don't you think it's a little... at times, I mean... all a little too...

Ishiguro: [Leaning forward] Yes?

Tony: Gimmicky?

[Ishiguro leans back, a frown settling upon his hitherto placid features.  Tony waits nervously, the fear of having offended his companion written all over his furrowed brow.  Ishiguro finally sighs and gestures at the restaurant around him.]

Ishiguro: So, you're discussing a novel in an imaginary restaurant - with a writer you've never met - just to avoid writing a proper review?  And I'm the 'gimmicky' one?

[He stands up, nods curtly, and disappears in the direction of the exit.  Tony sighs and slumps back in his chair.  Moments later, the waiter walks up to the table.  He takes a leather folder and places it abruptly on the table.]

Tony: [Roused from his stupor] What, sorry, what's this?

Waiter: The bill. [Raises one eyebrow] Sir.

Tony: [Confused] But.. but, I thought this was on Mr. Ishiguro...

Waiter: Apparently, he has changed his mind.  [Smiles] Although if money is a problem, we do have a lot of dishes waiting to be washed...

Tony: [Standing up]  Come on then, Brodsky, let's get this over with.

Waiter: As you wish, sir. [Scowls] And not even close.

[They walk towards the kitchen - Tony appears to be throwing more and more names at the irritated waiter as the screen fades to black...]

Review Post 22 - Fine Dining at the Fusion Lit Bistro

[The camera fades in from black to reveal a quiet restaurant; not full, not empty. A few people are standing chatting at the bar over drinks - dinner jackets and cocktail dresses aplenty. We start to zoom in gently to a table to the right of our picture. Tony is sitting, alone, perusing a burgundy leather-bound menu with Fusion Lit Bistro written in gold script. From the left, a tall, gaunt waiter approaches unhurriedly and elegantly, stopping neatly at Tony's table as he puts the menu back down on his table.]

Waiter: Good evening, sir. I have the pleasure of serving your table this evening.
Tony: Oh, good. [Peers at the waiter's name tag. It's blank]. Sorry, what was your name?
W: That depends entirely on your imagination, sir.
T: [Thinks] Let's say Jeeves then.
W: [Scathingly] I think not.

[A slightly embarrassing silence ensues.]

W: [Tactfully breaking the awkward moment] Now, sir, have you been able to decide?
T: Not really. There's just so much to choose from, and I must confess that I don't really understand all the choices.
W: That's perfectly understandable, sir; I wouldn't have expected anything else from you. [A Pause] Or anyone else. Would you like me to make some suggestions?
T: Please do, Sebastian.
W: No. Now as a starter, I would recommend Camus' La Chute.
T: La Shoot?
W: It can be translated as The Fall, and it's a delightfully constructed existentialist work on the pointlessness of life and the impossibility of finding a meaning in our dreary existence.
T: Existentialism? For a starter? Won't that be a little too heavy?
W: Oh no, sir, light and compelling, melts on the tongue. I assure you your appetite will remain, shall we say, unspoiled.
T: Well, alright then. Let's move on to the mains. Now [Opening the menu again and peering at an item near the bottom of the page], I was looking at your German section, I fancy a good meaty selection. What would you recommend, Andrew?
W: Not even close. If it's something hearty, dense and meaningful you're looking for, Thomas Mann is always a good choice. Our platter of six, Der Tod in Venedig, or Death in Venice, and five other stories would give you a selection to chew on. Lots of angst about the difficulty of being a writer, the role of the artist and the irresistible pull of death. [Pauses] Although it may be a little much for the single diner to take... I mean, manage...
T: No, no, that sounds fine. We all need a little something to digest from time to time, hey Alexander? [A very menacing look from the waiter. Tony coughs nervously and retreats to the safety of the menu.] Well, anyway... What about as an accompaniment? Any specials?
W: Well, we do have something a little unusual from our our Murakami range, a cheeky little 2000, after the quake. Not as full-bodied as some of his other vintages, but it'll work very nicely if evenly spaced with your other choices. Crisp, clean stories of life at one remove from the Kobe disaster, indubitably one to sip and ponder over at your leisure.
T: That's fine then. I'll take the shooty thing, the German meatballs and the Japanese plonk.

[The waiter shudders visibly, takes the menu gingerly between his long, elegant fingers and retreats in the direction he came from. After a significant interlude, during which the items requested are brought, sniffed and consumed, the waiter returns to the table. Tony is looking satisfied, if a little tired.]

W: Was everything to your liking sir?
T: Marvellous, thoroughly enjoyed it all. Many thanks for the recommendations, Algernon.
W: That's quite alright sir. And no. [Pauses] How did you find the starter? We do appreciate feedback from our guests.
T: Well, La Chute was definitely thought provoking, a one-sided dialogue between a man trying to discover what makes life worth living, and the reader. Fascinating reading, but the style did wear you down towards the end. A bit like listening to a sermon really; which is a little ironic, I suppose... I'll have to try it again some time, try to find out exactly what it's all about.
W: And the main course?
T: Quite superb! Nothing like a bit of temperamental Teutonic artistic soul-searching to satisfy the appetite. Only 80 pages, that Venice story, but my goodness, as dense and textured as many a 600-page novel. Death motifs everywhere you looked, homo-erotic suggestiveness, the smell of cholera palpable in the air...
W: Actually, sir, I believe that may have been the toilets. Our apologies.
T: Ah, right. [Looks sheepish] I have to admit, I had to leave a couple of stories for later, so if you could just get me a doggie bag for those...
W: I'll see to that presently. And the Murakami? To sir's liking?
T: You know, I was a bit worried that it would be a little lightweight and weak, but it did go rather splendidly with the other works. A sip here and there, a little low-grade soul searching, a dash of reevaluating one's life goals - really quite wonderful. It didn't have that sparkle and the special ingredients of other Murakamis I've tried, but it was reminiscent of his Norwegian Wood in its earthy, realistic tones. Not quite sure about the hint of frog though.
W: Not to everyone's taste, I agree. Still, I hope we'll be seeing you here again, sir.
T: Most definitely. This is just the kind of place I've been looking for. So, could I have the bill please, Haruki?
W: Now you're just embarrassing yourself.

[The waiter walks away shaking his head.]

T: Wait! David! Heinrich! Albert! Kazuo! [Thinks] Engelbert?

[Fade to black...]