Images: Taveerna in Chora: Cats Going to DinnerWe dined at Eva's Garden the other night, and the food was very creative, beautifully presented, and delicious. We started with a chickpea dip with anchovies, tomatoes, garlic, and onion served with home-baked bread. Then on to goat in tomato sauce and lamb in lemon sauce, all served up with a nice dry Santorini wine.
The real show, however, was the object lesson in parenting that the patrons were treated to by the young married couple – Eva and some young chap who didn't rate a mention on the marquee - who ran the restaurant. Perhaps not quite parenting, but you will follow my drift anon.
Those of you who followed this blog last year will remember that cats (in the language of which SL is quite fluent) have a coveted spot in the hierarchy of restaurant guests, just slightly below that of Michelin reviewers.
Our hosts, however, had decided that their's was to be a restaurant to attract a different class of clientèle who might choose dining companions of the non-feline sort. To this end, they had filled a spray bottle with water to squirt at the cats, to encourage them to solicit their dinner elsewhere. This was the rubber-bullet variety of spray, just H2O, but when the war heated, they would add vinegar, which cats do not even enjoy on a crisp green salad.
Eva would march into the fray, armed and firing from said bottle and the cats would scatter like chaff on the wind at her approach. As soon as she pivoted to re-enter the patio, the cats would immediately follow her back in, tails proudly held high as if clutching a reservation for the best table in the house. The reason for this became obvious as the next time she appeared, it was with a few tasty treats for her four-legged friends. They mewed and rubbed up against her legs, as she scratched behind their ears and fed them choice bits of fish.
Then they followed her back in, and she would re-arm herself with her water gun.
We saw this sequence repeated at least three times. Eva just could not understand what on earth she might be doing wrong.
My teacher friends will immediately recognize this parenting behaviour.
The real show, however, was the object lesson in parenting that the patrons were treated to by the young married couple – Eva and some young chap who didn't rate a mention on the marquee - who ran the restaurant. Perhaps not quite parenting, but you will follow my drift anon.
Those of you who followed this blog last year will remember that cats (in the language of which SL is quite fluent) have a coveted spot in the hierarchy of restaurant guests, just slightly below that of Michelin reviewers.
Our hosts, however, had decided that their's was to be a restaurant to attract a different class of clientèle who might choose dining companions of the non-feline sort. To this end, they had filled a spray bottle with water to squirt at the cats, to encourage them to solicit their dinner elsewhere. This was the rubber-bullet variety of spray, just H2O, but when the war heated, they would add vinegar, which cats do not even enjoy on a crisp green salad.
Eva would march into the fray, armed and firing from said bottle and the cats would scatter like chaff on the wind at her approach. As soon as she pivoted to re-enter the patio, the cats would immediately follow her back in, tails proudly held high as if clutching a reservation for the best table in the house. The reason for this became obvious as the next time she appeared, it was with a few tasty treats for her four-legged friends. They mewed and rubbed up against her legs, as she scratched behind their ears and fed them choice bits of fish.
Then they followed her back in, and she would re-arm herself with her water gun.
We saw this sequence repeated at least three times. Eva just could not understand what on earth she might be doing wrong.
My teacher friends will immediately recognize this parenting behaviour.
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