Once a week for the past two years, Dan and I went out to eat at the only restaurant in town- Quinta Monte Zobue.
We would order and share a large beer (a 23 oz. Manica Grande) and then ask for two plates of chicken-- one with xima and tomate mole and the other with salada and batatas fritas. Food always took more than an hour to arrive, but that was okay. We would just sit in the gazebo, look out over the mountain, and sip our lukewarm Manica, talking or grading papers or playing cards on the table.
Our neighbors didn't get it. People in Zobue don't "go out" for dinner, so our habits were strange. Dan and I were almost always the only patrons at the restaurant, but we preferred it that way. Ironically, going out to eat was one of the only ways that we managed to find some privacy.
We loved that little restaurant.
It's strange-- we're leaving soon, and going back to the land of McDonald's and Wendy's and Olive Garden and Red Lobster. We're returning to the land of the Chinese buffet, to the land of Indian restaurants. We will be able to get five dollar pizzas at Cici's buffet whenever we want. We will be able to get almost any meal we want, whenever we want. But some part of us will always miss the pretty little restaurant that only offered chicken.
|A view of the restaurant, with Monte Zobue in the background|
|Dan in the gazebo, waiting for his food|
|A Manica Grande. Mozambican beers generally come in fat and reusable 23 oz. bottles, |
a fact that makes American beers look wasteful and downright puny.
|Um quarto frango com batatas fritas e salada|
|Bwino likes it, too|