Soup for one

My first sit-down lunch alone while traveling was never about the food.

The cobblestones slowed me down. This wasn’t a place to rush through, and after hours of walking, I needed food and a place to sit.

Up ahead, I spotted empty tables on the sidewalk. A family debated the menu. The open door next to the patio revealed the dim restaurant interior, where a couple of waiters lounged by the doorway, enjoying a small break after the lunch rush.

I picked a table, sat down. My first meal alone in a strange place.

The waiter flitted quietly by, bringing water and a menu, smiling at my choice of a locally made cider. The cider came, cold, tart, fizzy and delicious.

I stared at the menu. That morning, the tour group leader had recommended a fried rye bread with a cheese dip and a cold beet soup. The cold beet soup was on the menu, but the forest mushroom soup caught my attention. Light enough for lunch and hearty enough to carry me through until dinner.

When the waiter returned, I asked him about it. “Chanterelles,” he said. “They are everywhere in the forests here.” His name tag read “Kyrilos.” I asked how he pronounced it. He looked surprised I had asked, and told me it was like “Carlos.” I asked him if the soup came with the fried bread. He smiled and shook his head. I ordered the soup. I was on a budget anyway, and how incredible could fried bread with cheese be?

Soon, Kyrilos was back with a little bucket – the fried bread and cheese. “Compliments of the chef,” he said with a smile. “You have to try it.”

The bread was crisp but chewy, the cheese unfamiliar with a light spice and tang. The soup, when it came, was light, flecked with dill and full of golden chanterelles and other vegetables. I ate every drop, chased it with the cider and thought how amazing it was to be sitting there. The family next to me finished their meal and left. Behind me another group of people sat down, talking loudly. Kyrilos kept a quiet eye on me, making sure I had what I needed, smiling at my enjoyment of the simple meal.

I had wondered what it would be like to eat alone, in a place that was so full of holidaying families and couples. Whether I would need to pull out the book I had brought as armor.

The book stayed in my bag.

I savored every spoonful of soup, felt the cider’s bubbles break on my tongue, and breathed.