CITY RESTAURANT

 “This is Emma,” Jeffrey introduced me to his colleagues – Cosmo, Quentin, Elliott, Amelia, Susannah and Victoria.  The men wore Savile Row suits and the girls had hair extensions and manicures.  I put my hands behind my back self consciously.  These City restaurants made me nervous.  I never knew what to order.  I mustn’t embarrass Jeffrey though.

 

Polite small talk was made and faces pulled when I told them I worked in the public sector.  I was glad when menus were passed round, but before I could begin reading, a drink was placed in front of me.

“Bright red wine!” I exclaimed and felt Jeffrey look at me.
Cosmo laughed, we picked up their glasses and toasted the weekend.  There was the strong taste of alcohol and something else ...
“I love black pudding wine,” sighed Susannah.
I frowned at the starter menu - ‘Morel stuffed with blue collar cheese’.  “What’s blue collar cheese?”  I asked.
Jeffrey frowned.
“It’s from breast milk,” Amelia said, “women express it for cash.  Like they sell their hair,” she twiddled her hair extensions and smiled, “it’s ethical to buy because you’re providing money to a woman bringing up her baby.”
“We’ll share a bit of everything for the main,” Quentin decided and no-one disagreed.  We snapped our menus shut.
I muttered quietly to Jeffrey that I’d skip the starter and he leaned across the table; “I’m not ‘avin’ it!  You sittin’ there refusin’ to eat again!”
“So what is black pudding wine?” I asked brightly.
“Blood mixed with alcohol,” replied Victoria, “don’t worry it’s corporatocracy-sourced and totally safe.  They clean it after it’s been bought.”
“Bought?” I asked faintly.
“Emma,” Jeffrey warned.
 

The starters arrived.  The ladies had opted for the morel, but the men had some sort of bread.

“Pumpernickel soaked in blow torched back fat,” smiled Elliott, “would you like to try some?”
I shook my head.  A waiter filled my glass with black pudding wine.  I could feel Jeffrey glaring, so I sipped some.  The men talked about who they thought would go in the latest round of redundancies and the women waxed lyrical about the food.  “Won’t you try some blue collar cheese?” asked Susannah, picking up my fork and putting some on it.
I put it in my mouth cautiously, it was rich and creamy.
Jeffrey smiled at me approvingly and I took more wine.  How could this be wrong?  The breast milk and blood were bought from people willing to sell.  The restaurant was giving money to disadvantaged communities.
 

By the time the starter plates were cleared I had relaxed.  Jeffrey was smiling and my glass kept getting refilled.

“Here’s the main course!” Quentin announced.
“This is so cool, families making real sacrifices to stop over population in their countries,” cooed Amelia.
The head waiter put a large covered platter on our table; “Organic free range toddler,” he said, “with ramons, gremolata, honey shallots and violet artichoke.”  With a flourish he took the lid from the dish, “enjoy!”