Mezze

At the bar alone.

And it feels like its been awhile since it was just me. 

Beside me, a group of five maybe. They are food tasting, wine-drinking, smoke unfurling. The owners of this place,- is what I gather from my unavoidable eavesdropping.

People are always disturbed by the thought (sight) of a lone woman. 

At the bar, in the restaurant. They give me concerned looks as I nurse my glass of wine, peruse the bar, the tiling, the finishing. No one ever thinks that I love it.

The manager comes over, would I like to order first? The girls are 15 minutes late..

oh, why not?

I order duck liver pate, spicy prawns in creamy butter sauce. 

The lure of crispy curry leaves.

Maybel arrives, we go to our table. Then Gwyn arrives, a bottle of pinot noir.

We order easily, agreeing to share this and that.

The food comes, parpardelle with beef cheeks, grilled spatchcock with

provencal potatoes, grilled lamb with cous cous. We put aside a plate for Mel, 

because if we don’t portion it out we will eat her share. Everything is divine.

Unexpectedly divine, even more wonderful because.

She arrives, eyes red. There are tears, and we all fall silent as she weeps.

I rub her back, we try and comfort. Someone cracks a joke and we feed her, 

slowly, things get better. We laugh, gossip, plan. The sweet balm of friendship. 

Dessert-sticky toffee pudding. 

They thank me for my recommendation. I accept their thanks.

I had walked past Mezze with the boyfriend 3 nights ago.

“ooh!, this place looks nice, you should bring me on a date!” 

he hemmed and hawed, and I said 

“You know what? The girls will be far more game to come with me! I’ll ask them”.

And thus, a newly discovered favourite neighbourhood bistro.