To be fair, the diner is forewarned: the disclaimer appears in the very name,
The Restaurant of Mistaken Orders
Tokyo. Roppongi, famous for hip cafés, art galleries, high rises, nightclubs and temples, Michelin restaurants. This eatery does not have stars, but a table in the sun. Two? The waiter bows in welcome and, with both hands, presents the menu:
Spicy ramen noodles, omelets, gyoza, sushi, hamburger steaks. Coffee and cakes – the selection of the day – follow. At the bottom, a note: the management’s reminder, with Japanese precision, of a 37% chance of getting the wrong order.
One waiter seats a party of one, then pulls a chair and sits too. Another puts a straw inside a coffee cup. Ramen arrives as steak, and sometimes does not arrive. Water spills. One waiter asks a customer what sort of place this is.
“All of our servers are people living with dementia. They may, or may not, get your order right […] but everything on our menu is delicious and one of a kind.”
Kind. /kīnd/
noun: “class, sort, variety; a group united by common traits or interests.”
adjective: “”friendly, deliberately doing good to others.”
The root of the noun relates to kin, or family; that of the adjective to kinde, or natural, innate. Customer satisfaction is 99%; the food is good, and when one waiter finally turns the pepper mill right, everyone applauds.
There are 35 million people in the world living with dementia. By 2050, the WHO projects there will be 115 million. These people lose certain cognitive functions and behavioral abilities: memory, communication and language, concentration, reasoning, judgment, and visual perception.
A piano in the corner.
One waitress sits in front of it. She plays a simple piece, spare and silvery. Her husband joins, light on the viola’s strings. No music sheets. People clap. The couple do not seem aware. A few minutes later, they return to work.
There are more lonely people in the world than people with dementia. There are as many ways of living as lives. And possible orders. Delicious, beautiful, impermanent. The staff in this restaurant are sometimes vague, clumsy, scared, confused, disoriented. Aren’t we all.
Faces are soft. Dessert is soft. Cottony, fluffy soft, and just a bit jiggly, bit sweet. A whiff of air and lemon. The fork sinks in like a dream. The cheesecake tastes like a cloud. Never mind that the order was for dark chocolate cake. Delightful.
Delight and light and time. All the time in the world. Time to go. To seek and savour other meals and suns and mistakes and joys and sorrows.