Polonaise for hedgehog
Unsurprisingly, last night I had reached the stage of 'huddling with Jane Duncan and her friends'.
But, anyway, now here we are in Warsaw, after a reasonable sort of journey.
Tonight the place we eventually found to have dinner had pierogi like Granny used to make as its USP (though it does offer a number of other molto tipico dishes of the terroir), although it is actually a small chain with waitresses wearing gear that I think is meant distantly to evoke merry peasant girls in Ruritanian operetta (front-laced stays as outerwear, etc), but with a vague touch of Mexicana. Anyway, I doubt that there is actually any aged Polish granny in the kitchen.
Besides the pierogi, which were fine, it's just that the minimum order was 9 and they were really quite filling, the establishment also offered cocktails.
No, really, if it's made with vodka and orange juice, I don't see where you get off with calling it a margarita. Maybe I'm pedantic, but if it ain't got tequila, it ain't no margarita.
I actually had something calling itself a mojito, which was acceptable, although I had similar questions about whether it deserved the name.
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