June 01, 2005


Japan or Morrocco? Middle Eastern. So I'm dialing the Casa Blanca Cafe and snackily dreaming of cous-cous and falafel and lamb schwarma when the line is answered by a young sounding man with a soft voice.
"Restaurant." And then genius hits me. I'll order me and my boyfriend's dinner with an outrageous Cockney accent!
"Good day kind sah! Uy'd lyke tah ahdah deenah puhleez." My boyfriend visibly cringed and turned his back to me while looking over his vast CD collection.
"Uh, what you want?" The take-out man obviously thought he was talking to a real Brit!
"Uy'd lyke tah stayt awf weeth ah lurvely sahlad. May ay hav the Fattoush." (Fattoush is a Lebanese salad, good for hot weather.)
"Uh. What?"
"Fattoush... Fattoush. Eets a deeelightful sahlad!"
"Where, I don't see it."
"Eet's awhn yuah deenah meenu, Fattoush. Eet's a sahlad."
"Salad? We got carrot salad and cucumber salad."
My patience with the take-out man and my impecible dialect had both worn thin. "No, you definately have Fattoush. It's a dinner salad, it's right here in your menu under salads. Fattoush, Fattoush. F, A, T, T--"
"Dude, I don't know what you're talking about. We got cucumber and carrot salad."
"Fattoush, it's right here...." I browsed the menu.
With bloodshot eyes, I was looking at the sushi menu.
"Did I call a sushi restaurant?"
"Yes. Sushi, what do you want dude?" I bid him a good day and redialed the Casa Blanca Cafe. Suffice to say I did not implement my flawless Cockney accent.

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