And that’s before you’ve even tasted the food.
Most of the café is across the road from the kitchen. Lots of brightly painted rickety tables and chairs overlooking the rocky beach. They’re only allowed 54 chairs out there (it’s the law) but one of the waiters tells me last Saturday they squeezed in 104.
To make life safer for the waiters, they put a couple of cones in the road to slow down passing traffic. There’s even a road sign: Waiters Crossing. I wonder if there’s ever been any accidents. The waiter tells me someone once drove over his foot. Was he okay? “Yeah, luckily I wasn’t carrying anything,” he says. I laugh, but he wasn’t joking.
We’re the first customers of the day – not even the veg has arrived. In fact, the kitchen's completely out of mushrooms. But not to worry - they’re on their way over the hill.
A few minutes later, another mushroom update: they are about to arrive! I check my hair and at 8.46 a jeep pulls up, the back loaded with boxes – two of which contain mushrooms. They’re whisked inside – I’m lucky to catch a fleeting shot of them.
Less than 15 minutes later, they’re back – only now they’re sliced, fried in lemon butter and mixed up with what must have been several handfuls of spinach, now wilted.
No wonder they call it a Popeye’s Slammer. A pretty smug and tasty way to take care of your five-a-day.
Vegas and Jamie aren’t interested in that though – they’re trying to get a look in at the biscuits she’s holding.
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