He
always seems to know exactly what his appetite demands; he addresses
the waiter in a preliminary discourse, sketching out his meal, and
then proceeds to fill in the minutiae.
If he orders a common dish,
he describes with exquisite detail how it is to be prepared; in
demanding something out of the way he glows with culinary
enthusiasm. An ordinary bill of fare never satisfies him; he plays
variations upon the theme suggested, divides or combines, introduces
novelties of the most unexpected kind. As a rule, he eats enormously
(I speak only of dinner), a piled dish of macaroni is but the
prelude to his meal, a whetting of his appetite. Throughout he
grumbles, nothing is quite as it should be, and when the bill is
presented he grumbles still more vigorously, seldom paying the sum
as it stands. He rarely appears content with his entertainment, and
often indulges in unbounded abuse of those who serve him. These
characteristics, which I have noted more or less in every part of
Italy, were strongly illustrated at the Concordia. In general,
they consist with a fundamental good humour, but at Cotrone the tone
of the dining-room was decidedly morose. One man - he seemed to be
a sort of clerk - came only to quarrel. I am convinced that he
ordered things which he knew the people could not cook just for the
sake of reviling their handiwork when it was presented. Therewith he
spent incredibly small sums; after growling and remonstrating and
eating for more than an hour, his bill would amount to seventy or
eighty centesimi, wine included.
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