Duck, Duck, Goose

It was Steven who initiated the idea of his family seeing the Mediterranean together. When Steve asked me, I was all in – as I would be with anyone who invited me along on a cruise. Rebecca was a bit reticent, knowing the timing signalled the end of her sabbatical in London, but she joined in. She articulated her only objective for the cruise, keeping her expectations simple. We could eat supper together – fourteen times in a row she said. Steve has been working so late in London that eating together at night has not been possible for a year. Oh yes, there was nothing obligatory to the others about joining us.

There are some thing about the dining room that pass expectations – a linen napkin taken from the table and laid across one’s lap, a three page menu and the only choices are how many appetizers, entrees and desserts, and then how long to linger after supper, which has often left us there two hours, and one of the last table leaving. Duncan tried duck. That night he asked if he could have it again the next night.

... duck for Duncan, 7 nights in a row ...

The server said she would check with the head waiter who put in a standing order every night from the kitchen – duck for Duncan. If he orders something else, she brings that as well – and always, on the side is always Roasted Duck.

 I have seen Teriaki Duck, Carpaccio of Duck (fine slices of duck breast as an appetiser with segments of oranges and plump dired cranberries decorating the plate and last night, Duck a la Orange.

Life can be so ducky.

Arta