‘Pijama’ might suggest to you a misspelling of a commodious garment of night attire, but I ate one.
After the rigors of shelf building I felt that I deserved a little treat and so I ventured out into the largely deserted surroundings searching for an open restaurant for a spot of lunch.
I am still coming to terms with the way in which the restaurants (which almost literally surround us) operate. I assume that they are profit making enterprises into which considerable sums of money have been sunk by their various owners. Why, therefore are their ways of operating so, well, various?
Some have odd days when they are open and odd times based on those odd days which suggest that they are operating under the influence of a system whose intricate nature makes the calculation of the date of Easter seem straightforward. And if you think that calculation is simple then you have never looked very closely at the end of your Book of Common Prayer at all the information you should be studying when the vicar is giving his sermon!
One restaurant in particular in our immediate area has been recently purchased; completely refurbished; new signage put up; classy glassware and cutlery bought and a well stocked bar opened. But they hardly ever get any customers. It must be soul destroying to set out the tables every day with immaculate white napery and gleaming crystal and then watch all the diners go elsewhere.
The secret is in the pricing. Well, hardly a secret: the other restaurants flaunt their low priced menu del dias while this restaurant sticks with its enticing, but highly priced a la carte offerings. Throughout the summer, the high season for this sea side town, the restaurant kept its purity and lost its customers.
In spite of the fact that a dozen restaurants within a couple of minutes walking distance were offering lower prices and getting bums on seats, the glacial financial indifference of this establishment continued.
I began to suspect that since we were so far away from any normal idea of financial rectitude there must have been another and much more sinister reason for such a cash drain: money laundering.
I don’t really understand the details of the concept but I assume that it must be a variant on the profits from failure scheme as outlined so brilliantly (and catastrophically) in the Mel Brooks film, ‘The Producers.’
I shudder to think what tasteless (!) menu could possibly rival the sure fire failure that should have been ‘Springtime for Hitler’ on the musical stage. I have a few ideas for dishes, but even I realise that some things go beyond the bounds of civilized tolerance, so they will remain sniggering darkly in my imagination!
So the restaurant must have lost money throughout the summer – and lost lots of it. If that was the idea it worked pretty well.
Now, at the tail end of the year when the only tourists that come are hardy and well wrapped up against the savage inclemency of temperatures which plummet to as low as 16C the restaurant has suddenly galvanized itself and decided that it needs patrons.
They have instituted a menu del dia and I decided to try it.
The meal was a revelation.
A pea soup, delicately flavoured with a suggestion of mint with crisp, melt in you mouth croutons and finished with olive oil and fresh mint leaves for the first course. The second comprised two succulent cod fillets topped with slivers of baked garlic and a timbale of vegetables with garlic flavoured oil.
I actually applauded the third course!
This is where the sleeping garments come in. ‘Pijama’ is a sweet which has been described in Spanish as, “flan con un churretón de nata, medio melocotón en almíbar y a veces también tiene pera o una bola de helado” I would describe it as a construction.
It came in a sundae glass and what struck me first was a large golden, gleaming treble clef which was crowning a summit of whipped cream. The clef was made from melted brown sugar and what lurked beneath the snowy covering of cream was a mixture of nuts, fruit, ice cream, flan, syrup and more calories than is reasonable or legal to offer a mere human.
A robust Rioja and a solid Hades dark café solo completed the meal. I have no intention of giving the price I paid because I am not that cruel. To be fair it was a couple of quid more expensive than the meal I normally have, but this was haute cuisine at its most sublime!
So we are presented with another problem. This money rejecting failure of a restaurant is now providing unsuspecting patrons with what can only be described as a ‘loss leader’ in giving diners startling value for a casual lunch. It was one of the finest meals that I have had since I came to Spain. I don’t understand.
End of season; few patrons; immense competition – what are they doing?
I am not so naïf as to believe that Castelldefels does not have the normal level of corruption that always accompanies the exchange of large sums of money – and millions of pounds are extracted from tourists’ wallets and purses every year – but what sort of financial thinking is underpinning the financial strategy of that restaurant?
And then I look at my newspaper or listen to the radio and all is made clear. The great and the good of the financial world have no idea whatsoever what they are doing, have done or will do. They throw money (not theirs obviously) around like drunken emperors and they haven’t even the common decency to consult the auguries.
Given the chaotic times in which we now live, it seems just as valid to me to cut open a chicken and have a bit of a prod around in the innards of the poor beast and then make a pronouncement than listen to the conflicting views of economists or politicians or (god rot them) bankers and pretend that you have a well thought out systematic, caring approach to recession.
I have listened to the various comments from Those Who Govern Us and I have considered the suggestions of Mr Darling. The economy needs to be boosted and the government is trying to fuel the recovery.
I have a suggestion to make. I have never (except for that time that I had to prove that I could save money for a few weeks to get one of my Cubs badges) I have never, I repeat, ever been a laggard when it comes to spending money. I have made it into a sort of art form.
So, my suggestion is that Mr Darling gives me the billions of pounds that he is going to spread thinly around the economy. I will then (as I have always done) spend it with alacrity. I will, thereby, save us all from the threat of financial ruin. In the process, by way of a small recompense for my good offices, I will gain a few small items for my own use.
Like having a Van Eyck in my living room!
You know it makes sense.
After the rigors of shelf building I felt that I deserved a little treat and so I ventured out into the largely deserted surroundings searching for an open restaurant for a spot of lunch.
I am still coming to terms with the way in which the restaurants (which almost literally surround us) operate. I assume that they are profit making enterprises into which considerable sums of money have been sunk by their various owners. Why, therefore are their ways of operating so, well, various?
Some have odd days when they are open and odd times based on those odd days which suggest that they are operating under the influence of a system whose intricate nature makes the calculation of the date of Easter seem straightforward. And if you think that calculation is simple then you have never looked very closely at the end of your Book of Common Prayer at all the information you should be studying when the vicar is giving his sermon!
One restaurant in particular in our immediate area has been recently purchased; completely refurbished; new signage put up; classy glassware and cutlery bought and a well stocked bar opened. But they hardly ever get any customers. It must be soul destroying to set out the tables every day with immaculate white napery and gleaming crystal and then watch all the diners go elsewhere.
The secret is in the pricing. Well, hardly a secret: the other restaurants flaunt their low priced menu del dias while this restaurant sticks with its enticing, but highly priced a la carte offerings. Throughout the summer, the high season for this sea side town, the restaurant kept its purity and lost its customers.
In spite of the fact that a dozen restaurants within a couple of minutes walking distance were offering lower prices and getting bums on seats, the glacial financial indifference of this establishment continued.
I began to suspect that since we were so far away from any normal idea of financial rectitude there must have been another and much more sinister reason for such a cash drain: money laundering.
I don’t really understand the details of the concept but I assume that it must be a variant on the profits from failure scheme as outlined so brilliantly (and catastrophically) in the Mel Brooks film, ‘The Producers.’
I shudder to think what tasteless (!) menu could possibly rival the sure fire failure that should have been ‘Springtime for Hitler’ on the musical stage. I have a few ideas for dishes, but even I realise that some things go beyond the bounds of civilized tolerance, so they will remain sniggering darkly in my imagination!
So the restaurant must have lost money throughout the summer – and lost lots of it. If that was the idea it worked pretty well.
Now, at the tail end of the year when the only tourists that come are hardy and well wrapped up against the savage inclemency of temperatures which plummet to as low as 16C the restaurant has suddenly galvanized itself and decided that it needs patrons.
They have instituted a menu del dia and I decided to try it.
The meal was a revelation.
A pea soup, delicately flavoured with a suggestion of mint with crisp, melt in you mouth croutons and finished with olive oil and fresh mint leaves for the first course. The second comprised two succulent cod fillets topped with slivers of baked garlic and a timbale of vegetables with garlic flavoured oil.
I actually applauded the third course!
This is where the sleeping garments come in. ‘Pijama’ is a sweet which has been described in Spanish as, “flan con un churretón de nata, medio melocotón en almíbar y a veces también tiene pera o una bola de helado” I would describe it as a construction.
It came in a sundae glass and what struck me first was a large golden, gleaming treble clef which was crowning a summit of whipped cream. The clef was made from melted brown sugar and what lurked beneath the snowy covering of cream was a mixture of nuts, fruit, ice cream, flan, syrup and more calories than is reasonable or legal to offer a mere human.
A robust Rioja and a solid Hades dark café solo completed the meal. I have no intention of giving the price I paid because I am not that cruel. To be fair it was a couple of quid more expensive than the meal I normally have, but this was haute cuisine at its most sublime!
So we are presented with another problem. This money rejecting failure of a restaurant is now providing unsuspecting patrons with what can only be described as a ‘loss leader’ in giving diners startling value for a casual lunch. It was one of the finest meals that I have had since I came to Spain. I don’t understand.
End of season; few patrons; immense competition – what are they doing?
I am not so naïf as to believe that Castelldefels does not have the normal level of corruption that always accompanies the exchange of large sums of money – and millions of pounds are extracted from tourists’ wallets and purses every year – but what sort of financial thinking is underpinning the financial strategy of that restaurant?
And then I look at my newspaper or listen to the radio and all is made clear. The great and the good of the financial world have no idea whatsoever what they are doing, have done or will do. They throw money (not theirs obviously) around like drunken emperors and they haven’t even the common decency to consult the auguries.
Given the chaotic times in which we now live, it seems just as valid to me to cut open a chicken and have a bit of a prod around in the innards of the poor beast and then make a pronouncement than listen to the conflicting views of economists or politicians or (god rot them) bankers and pretend that you have a well thought out systematic, caring approach to recession.
I have listened to the various comments from Those Who Govern Us and I have considered the suggestions of Mr Darling. The economy needs to be boosted and the government is trying to fuel the recovery.
I have a suggestion to make. I have never (except for that time that I had to prove that I could save money for a few weeks to get one of my Cubs badges) I have never, I repeat, ever been a laggard when it comes to spending money. I have made it into a sort of art form.
So, my suggestion is that Mr Darling gives me the billions of pounds that he is going to spread thinly around the economy. I will then (as I have always done) spend it with alacrity. I will, thereby, save us all from the threat of financial ruin. In the process, by way of a small recompense for my good offices, I will gain a few small items for my own use.
Like having a Van Eyck in my living room!
You know it makes sense.
Or at least it makes the same sort of sense as the stuff that I have been listening to recently!
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