A restaurant in Sarajevo. My friend is interrogating a waiter about his establishment’s unhelpful menu.
“…and what’s in this – the Sultan Bey soup?”
“That’s lambs brains fried in offal fat.”
“And this one?”
“Sheep liver with beef.”
“Er, what about this one?”
“Chicken with two types of ham.”
“And this… Tahamoa?”
My friend pauses to take this information on board. Then he resumes his attack.
“What exactly is in the ‘fishy fillet’?”
“Thanks. I’ll have that.”
The waiter leaves.
You know, for a city that makes such a big thing about how disgusting the food was during the siege, they don’t seem to have celebrated a return to haute cuisine.
I was in Sarajevo in summer 2007. I loved it.