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Rhoding Solo
- imogenbeth
- Oct 14, 2023
- 4 min read
Walking through the old town feels very safe, shops are open late and the dazzling lights of the tourist traps are shining bright.
Still have no idea where anyone can ride an electric scooter but it saved me a 15 minute walk without anyone saying anything. So far so good.
Dinner is very fancy, set in a candlelit ruin in the depths of the old town.
Trying to get them to think that I’m a mysterious food critic or a writer when I am writing this note to myself on my phone so I’ll get a shot of limoncello out of it. Given a very good corner of the restaurant for best people watching observations. Side note, people are boring when eating a fancy dinner, no arguments, no disagreements with waiters.. so far anyway. Time will tell. Maybe someone’s surf and turf will be too turfy and not enough surfy.
Waiters and waitresses dress all in black, as does the feral cat the roams for scraps. Friday the 13th and my dinner companion for the evening is a black cat, they cancel each other out right? I’ll let you know.
The menu is small but mighty and I just hope the quality reflects the price. I’ve sadly opted to forego a starter and will wisely use the savings on more caipirinhas that this island seems to excel in.
The time from being seated to served my first refreshment comes at a weary 14 minutes. I may have died of thirst in that time. Silverware is heavy which strikes me as good quality. Although I have no idea I have never been to cutlery class.
Food served very swiftly. Which usually leaves me to question the haste of its preparation.
On first mouthful, not all that hot, but that maybe because I spend the first minute with my plate in front of my typing the sentences above. We move. But not very well as I have been served tagliatelle with no spoon. Do they not have spoons in Rhodes?
Conversation in the restaurant swiftly moved from foreign mumblings to some well spoken Brits discussing the Tyson Fury Netflix documentary, sharing their thoughts on it to what I can only imagine is the entire restaurant as their audience. Not sure Tyson Fury debates pair well with lobster.
The soundtrack has also swiftly moved from Greek orchestral music to a Tom Jones playlist. I’m assuming to drown out the dulcet tones of the posh brits and their gyspy king discussions which seems to have worked.
Aside from the ambiance, the restaurant has so far delivered and the lobster linguine was delicious. Although it did come with some flowers atop, who ever knows if you’re meant to eat flowers.
As soon as my plate is cleared I am asked if I may have room for desert, little does she know about the concepts of a pudding stomach and the fact that I look like I have room for several desserts.
I am already tempted to follow these posh brits to their next evening destination as they are now choosing their karaoke set lists and they’ve polished off a few bottles of wine in the time I’ve watched them so can only imagine what entertainment that would be. I think top choices so far are between Robbie Williams, Billy Rae Cyrus and Bon Jovi. There are 6 of them so I’m hoping for all three.
Dessert has been ordered before the menu was even re-presented. I spotted the tiramisu before the main was even decided upon. There has been a long standing tradition that should there be a tiramisu on a menu, I had to have it as my side quest in this life is to find the best tiramisu. I have high hopes. It may throw Stefano’s in Central London off the top spot. But we’ll see if the Greeks can out-misu the Italians.
On presentation alone, this may be the best. Taste will tell. Now we have the spoon. Where was the spoon when I needed to twist my pasta. As Granny says, “We always but always have pudding forks”, and Granny should always be right at this. And again, another purple flower. To eat or not to eat?
The taste is all present. The coffee, the rum, the mascarpone but the layout sadly lends itself to one mouthful of each at a time and not the mix of the flavours that one deserves. Alas Greek tiramisu lags behind the Italian counterpart. My flower blew away before I decided whether to eat it or not. Fate says no.
According to Morrisons, I am myself a family of four when it comes to tiramisu so the portion here was plenty but sadly just all in the wrong positions.
After eating and finishing drinks I am met with an awkward situation. No one has yet checked on me and no one is within hand action movement to ask for the bill but I’m starting to feel the effects of a bottle of water all to oneself. Do I get up and use the toilets for fear they will think I have left or do I hold it out and wait for the bill? A fresh romantic date has entered and been seated right by me so a waitress was very attentive to them and I’ve swooped in to ask for my bill just after they ordered sparking water. Weirdos. I made my move. But apparently it’s not only tagliatelle spoons and pudding forks that the Rhodians don’t believe in, but toilet seats. The loos are so far away I think I could get away with finding an alternative exit and leaving before they could catch me. But then I wouldn’t be able to ever sleep again so I return to my table and pay my way but not before necking what’s left of my extortionate water.
Walking back through the bright lights of old town the shop owners are wondering at what point they give up for the night. The draw of drunk tourists wondering home from bars lingers on.
A quick detour to Socrstous Garden for yet another Caipirinha to discuss his previous recommendation of Taverna Kostas which was a delicious delight.
One caipirinha turned into learning about the cats on the island and imparting my wisdom of ginger beer and rhubarb gin with the locals. Followed by some complimentary ouzo. Yammas.
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