Adventure in Dining, Episode #148

One night in Vienna, because we were Bobby-and-Greg-Brady-locked-in-Sam-the-butcher's-freezer cold, a lengthy exploratory walk to find a restaurant was absolutely out of the question. Proximity to the apartment were we stayed was crucial and it happened that the places we found tended away from "typical" Viennese fare. So, we wound up at an Italian place. No arguments here, I love Italian food (in my blood, though my freckly-pale complexion hardly gives that away).

We were really excited because we saw some people eating a scrummy looking pizza when we walked in--of the brick oven variety. So we sat down to look over the menu and ordered a couple of aperatifs. We then decide on two mixed salads and a pizza to share; buffalo mozzarella, porcini mushrooms, and tomatoes.

Half-way through our salads, the waitress comes over to our table to tell us that the chef made a mistake and he cooked two orders of something else in the kitchen. Can she bring that over?

My husband was good naturedly nodding and smiling at her, though I suspect her thick accent and her combo German/English with Italian influences just had him utterly confused. I was somewhat concerned; would this new dish be in lieu of our pizza? In addition to it? I felt I needed more information before going along with this change of events, so I asked her what the other dish exactly was. She made some ridiculous hand gestures and tried to tell us. In German.

We were all obviously confused by the pantomimes (even her), so she then collected herself and made the group decision. She said: "I will bring it. You will like it. You will eat it." And off she went.

We replayed the scenario a few times amongst ourselves. Ultimately, we decided that whatever she was bringing had to be at least similar to our original order. We laughed thinking of the things she could bring. What if it was rack of lamb or something?

Impossible was our assessment of that possibility.

So then she marches over with a huge plate of linguine with clam sauce. Plopping it down, she informs us of how lucky we are because this "special dish" is better than what we had ordered. In my confusion, I looked at her and asked, "So there is no pizza?"

"No pizza tonight. Pizza another night!" She was so terribly pleased, we did not know what to do.

Anyway, the linguine with clam sauce was great actually. Not what we had in mind, but delicious nonetheless. The funny part was when she brought the bill--still bearing our original order. So she hand-crossed the pizza out and wrote in the name of the other dish and added 40 centimes.

What? I mean if you are that concerned about 40 centimes, wouldn't you change the order in the computer system? We do not get what we ask for and then we have to pay extra for it? Is anyone else feeling confused?

We chalked it up to another cultural experience. I mean this whole scenario never would have happened in America. For one thing, any restaurant that failed to bring you what you ordered from the menu they provided would likely comp the dish, if not the entire meal. For another, a lawsuit might have been pending.

But not in Vienna. The whole exchange reminded me of other meals I have had in both Germany and Austria--where the waiter/server tells you what you will eat rather than asking you what you would like. It is not actually as imposing as it sounds, although it can be quite jarring. I think it is intended as a friendly, helpful thing. But to people who are used to selecting their own meals when paying to dine out, it can be a tad disorienting/upsetting to be shouted at as to what you will be consuming.

And this experience certainly echoed prior ones. As in: We will tell you want you want. You will eat it. But no rules will be broken; you will pay for what you ate, no matter if you wanted it or not. Kind of like when they bring that basket of soft pretzels to the table and at the end of the meal you realized you were charged for what you deemed to be a complimentary offering.

Neither party is in the "right," just shows that there are so many ways intercultural differences can be displayed.

Nonetheless, we left the restuarant, still feeling like we missed some joke. Our waitress bid us a hearty and happy adieu: "You like the food! We will see you again!"

Pretty big on turning questions into assertions. But at least they are happy about it--you have to give them that.