Pete spent the day strolling the Coney Island boardwalk, riding the Cyclone, and dining at one of the boardwalk cafes in Brighton Beach. Pete and friends shared smoked fish (tuna, whitefish, salmon) served with brown bread, herring in oil and red onions, green borscht, dill and garlic French fries, potato dumplings with grilled onions, salad, and a big pitcher of pilsner. It was a long, chill lunch and Pete was content to just sit there, feeling the sun on his face while watching the ocean and staring at people. And the Russian waiter was even moderately friendly. One to grow on though: Russians don't like Russian jokes.
Sounds yummy—especially those fries! Where is this place?
ReplyDeleteOn the boardwalk at Brighton 4th Street.
ReplyDeleteThose fries do sound delicious. Were the Rushkies unhappy with your sense of humor or just too close to get the joke? I've had drinks with the Russians at Coney Island, and from my experience, they don't get angry, they get even with outrageously high alcohol content beer. I never saw it coming.
ReplyDeleteWorth the trip for the fries alone. The "Russian Sneak Attack" and "It mus have been the Russian judge" comments are the exact sort of witticisms that don't go over so well.
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure I even get the russian judge joke.
ReplyDeleteBack in the days of the Cold War-era Olympics, the U.S. announcers used to always blame the Russian judge if a figure skater or gymnast from a Western country's score was lower than they thought it should be. At a recent karaoke session, Pete received the highest score even though his was clearly the worst performance of the night. So Pete said, "It must have been the Russian judge." Turns out, the woman singing was Russian. She didn't appreciate my sorry attempt at explanation either.
ReplyDelete