Arnon Grunberg



After many years I went back to Wallse, an Austrian restaurant on West 11th Street.
The food was good, but the maître d’ (a slightly overweight man in his fifties) was obnoxious.
He greeted me with one word: “Yes?” “My friends made a reservation,” I said.
“Your friends aren’t here yet,” he said. He sounded as if my friends would stand me up.
When my friend came to rescue me the maître d’ gave me a dirty look.
But the Salzburger Nockerl were excellent.

(Read more about Nockerl here.)