A restaurant that caters to dinosaurs like me

“Where will I have lunch from now on?” I started to ask myself as soon as the company I work for had moved to another part of the city. I went out looking for a restaurant where I would go for lunch on my working days. I needed a place where I would fit: something rather old-fashioned, unpretentious, most importantly, a place where the plate comes with real food. Unfortunately, as I explored our new neighborhood, I feared my quest would never end: the streets make up a maze of trendy boutiques, hair salons, beauty parlors, designer glasses and sunglasses shops, real estate agencies and nicely designed food joints where yuppies feast upon hamburgers and salads to the beat of the latest techno music. Hardly anything for a dinosaur like me…

How I found this restaurant, I can’t remember. Probably when I ventured into the adjacent streets; in one of them expensive fast food restaurants and upscale clothing outlets alternated until I reached the end of the street and noticed some kind of out-of-this time place with a faded facade, an old-style neon sign and a menu handwritten on a chalk board. I was immediately attracted.

I don’t remember what was on the menu on my first visit, not something extremely original as I have found out that the restaurant only offers unsophisticated traditional French cuisine and North African specialties. The first time I stepped in, I noticed the premises were vaguely reminiscent of a North African house. For sure, there were few customers on that day: I have never seen many people in there, precisely because the place is old-fashioned. The restaurant seems to cater to middle-aged people, mostly men; since then, I have joined the community.

By contrast, what I vividly remember is how I got to know one of the two old attendants on my third or fourth visit there. I had been surprised to note that the restaurant was open 24 hours a day, every day but on Sundays. In my mind, I looked for an explanation and quickly found one: until the early seventies, the biggest covered market in the city stood nearby; people worked at night to deliver as early as possible in the morning food and wine to the downtown retailers and restaurants; buyers would also come from other parts of the city and from neighboring towns. Hence, most of the restaurants would be open twenty-four hours a day. This is, at least, the question and explanation I suggested to one of the old men when he offered me some tea after my meal was over. He confirmed my explanation and added the neighborhood used to be the printing hub of the country. Newspapers being printed at night and dispatched very early in the morning, restaurants had to stay open 24 hours a day. The old man added there were still a few restaurants around working the same hours; he also confessed he and his boss had been running the place for fifty-six years…

These details kindled my imagination; I couldn’t help envisioning what the neighborhood looked like until some forty years ago. There must have been traffic day and night. Even the neighboring post office was open all night as the newspapers had to be dispatched as soon as they had been printed. It was just another city in the city; a population that worked totally different hours from the other city dwellers. A population used to work under tight deadlines as food and newspapers had to be delivered as quickly as possible; therefore, the workers would not spend too much time eating. The two old men are still carrying on that tradition; this is why they are offering simple but nutritious meals. I never suspected my quest for food would take me to so many historical and economic considerations about the city where I work. It now has been four months that the two old chefs and I have been passionately delving into these considerations. I sometimes come up with questions about what their typical customers looked like, what kind of food they would usually order, would they drink alcohol while eating?, would they eat more or less than now? Mathematically, going back almost half a century doesn’t mean much in the history of humanity; however, as progress has strongly accelerated in the last decades, my two companions’ memories, observations, remarks help me measure the distance we have walked as well as the good and bad we have left along the way.

Comments

[ABS]

J'ai été embarquée dans cet univers et ... j'aimerais savoir où se trouve ce restaurant !!!