Had a great pizza experience this eve in Montreux. Well, to be precice, the pizza was crap, but the experience was an experience.
The pizza first? Calzone - 46 square meters of crust, 20 cubic centimeters of filling, which consisted of cheese (a good start), ham, tomato and egg. Sadly the egg was scrambled and for some reason, the chef (I am being charitable with that description here) decided it was a good idea to include some anchovy fillets. WTF???? Repulsive and positively the worst Calzone I have had anywhere in the world.
I am sure I will be able to prod the errant pieces of vomit down the bidet plughole in the morning, once they have softened a bit.
So - the 'experience'....
I sat on my own in the middle of the restaurant and watched people. They watched me too, with more than a little suspicion.
There, on my left, was a French-Swiss guy of about my age, evidently with his son (15 or 16, public school - either Charterhouse (the 'buggers' school) or Stowe (the 'buggers' school), or Pangbourne (the Navy school. OK so that's another buggers' school too).
And it was clear the son's mum was no longer the dad's wife ... are you with me here? Because they were speaking English... but not just because they were speaking English. The old chap (my age) was telling the young lad that he would 'clear it' with his partner for the lad to come and stay occasionally. Apparently the new partner has a young nipper and expensive taste. The dad told the story about the Fust dishwasher he had before the new partner arrived ("Brand new old boy, with the instructions still in the machine, never used") . But dad came home one day and the partner had ordered a new one - a Miele - all stainless steel. Apparently she still does not know how to work the machine. I guess the disintegrated instructions have blocked the outflow :-)
And then on the other side of me was a male couple (camp as a row of tents). The dominant one was very stylishly dressed, had a shaved head and a liver-coloured labrador dog which he fed from his plate and had tiramasu for pudding (the guy, not the dog). The other half of the couple was watching his weight (raw meat and wasser mit gaz, no pasta, no pizza, no wine, no coffee).
And just next to them was a really strange couple. He was 70+, wearing a baseball cap, had tan-coloured, thinning brown hair (almost like he had combed it through with some brown boot polish) and a 'tantastic' complexion. His tee shirt said, and I quote, because i wrote it down on the napkin: 'Wild West Wealth Summit 2007" and the web link:
http://www.millionairemanifesto.com/It's possible they were from the US.
He could hardly get around the place (pissed, or crippled - not sure) and She sat there serenely with highlighted blonde hair and a cerise pink suit, very tailored, very expensive with gold buttons and HUUUUGE cuffs. I reckon She was a runner-up in the Miss Texas 1974 contest. She had clearly had some work done on her face (bits of it were too smooth, gently tucked and looked 'pulled' in places) compared to her veiny, wrinkled hands.
I am not a very pleasant person, am I? Well. I just think that someone in Montreux may be writing a blog about a crap pizza and a strange, but observant guy in the restaurant, with big hair and big bags under his eyes. I had better be careful if I go back to the UK - apprently the government are going to tax supermarkets who give away shopping bags, 'willy-nilly' to cutomers. I have to hope that they don't catch up with me and see my sagging eyes as a revenue opportunity. Bugger that.
Engueta - or for viewers in the UK "Enjoy ur meaw".
