A day in da Bronx, well it was jest poifect

We thought of her one day when we were in New York and headed for the Bronx and a restaurant that had appealed to us before. We like the Bronx, the diverse cultures, the bustle and liveliness of the place and above all the way they speak. We just love to hear them talk and their favourite expressions: “Get outta here” when expressing disbelief.

There are about three miles (and that’s just what we passed) of street like Camden Market. I am sure if we ever come back to New York, Ellie will suggest shopping in The Bronx.

Eventually we got to our favourite Italian on Arthur Street, which we visited last trip, sitting on long tables, just like school. It was past two o’clock when we arrived and inquired if they were still serving lunch.

“Of coise we are. This is the poifect time, any time is poifect,” we were told.

I remarked to the effect that of course this is New York and was corrected: “Nah dis is de Bronx.”

We have never been in a restaurant like it. They tell you what they have (no menu just a rough guide outside), provide the beers/cokes and, at the end, give you a price which is always a rounded figure such as 35, 40 or 50 dollars. The figure is provided verbally: no receipt, no tax and, in this place, believe me, no quibble or argument.

When we took our seats, there were four guys in black shirts and trousers at the end, deep in conversation but much of it was anecdotal.

Seeing them, we sat in an alcove as I explained to Ellie: “In case there is a drive-by shooting, we will be shielded”

After half an hour the four shook hands, hugged each other and kissed cheeks, gave us a look, put on their black hats and headed out. One guy stayed and then a man with brushed-back silver hair came in. He had an expensive light-coloured jacket over a black shirt and smart trousers. He was the epitome of dapper.

He duly sat down with one of the black shirts who had been in the corner, and they had a brief conversation. It was always going to be brief because neither of them ordered anything, and the waiters did not offer.

Light jacket then went out and made a call. Clearly it had been a business meeting.

The jacket man returned and stayed and it was obvious the big waiter had been designated to humour him. After some conversation, the jacket sat down and food was brought in. It would seem he has the same every day for he did not order anything nor did he pay for it.

Clearly he was unhappy with the meal. “Whad’s wid dis?” he asked. The sauce was wrong. The chef from the kitchen sped off to get the right sauce with the words: “You get foive demerits for dis” following him.

The big waiter was seething and went out to make a call. We paid our bill after one very big course. As we were told on the last visit, you go next door for “cawfee and desert: they dun make spaghetti and we dun make dessert”, it was explained.

Big waiter, having made his call, was coming inside: “Goodbye moi friend,” he said giving me a tap on the shoulder.

We went next door for a cawfee and icy-creamo.

There was an old guy with a stick staring out at the street. He looked at me and nodded. I nodded back. We had our coffee and ice cream, wondering where our imaginations had taken us but Ellie and I, feeling out of earshot, exchanged observations and notes, which we had been reluctant to do in the restaurant, for clearly we had been in the presence of “de woise guys”.

Then a black-shirted man came in, spoke to the old man, shook his head and then addressed the man behind the bar: “He dun recognoize me.”

The coffee shop owner explained that the old guy has had a stroke and “aint so good no more.”

The newcomer shook his head, looked at the old man and said: “He used to be de Boss. Did 35 years toime an’ now he dun recognoize nobody. Dat’s sad.”

Eventually we paid and left on a high. The former boss nodded to me again as I left. Guess we had poimission.

Coitainly that was a good day.

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