Pimms is Pimms

As noted in an earlier post, my friend and I go to the Volcano choir rehearsals when we’re able.  This was one such week.  My friend is sitting in on my Deciding What’s News class (which runs from 2:15-5:15), so we make an evening of it, grabbing a bite to eat after class.  A couple of weeks ago we went to the Slug and Lettuce and had a decent lasagna.  Last night, however, we made a lovely discovery. 

  

Heading east from the St. John’s campus, we wandered down New Street and discovered a little bistro called Saffron.  Given the name I anticipated Indian cuisine, but that was not the case at all.  The menu was diverse and offered a number of specials as well as standards, including absolutely delicious salmon risotto (my choice) and a nice Greek salad (my friend’s order).  Our drink order, however, was something both my friend and I had wanted to try—Pimms.

I had told my friend a story my sister had shared with me on one of her visits to Jolly Old England (JOE) about 10 years ago.   My sister, a.k.a. World’s Greatest Aunt, has taken each of her three nieces and five nephews on a high school graduation trip.  

This particular year it was the turn of our oldest daughter and niece (they’re 19 days apart in age).  Our youngest sister was living in Oxfordshire at the time with her husband and two young sons, so England was the girls’ choice.  My brother-in-law was working for an international aviation company at the time and had many friends in the armed forces. 

These buddies were hosting a fancy dress ball which corresponded with the girls’ visit.   My sisters, brother-in-law, niece and daughter got all gussied up and had a grand-old time.  I believe the girls consumed their first alcoholic beverages at this party (or at least, that is what I choose to believe), and among the cocktails being served was Pimms.

Someone from my family put the question to one of their British hosts—What, praytell, IS Pimms?  The gentleman being questioned seemed baffled and turned to his partner:  “Babs, what’s in Pimms?”  Babs replied, “I don’t know.  Pimms is Pimms.”  It loses something in the translation, unless you affect an English accent whilst telling the story.

We shared the story with our server who seemed quite charmed by it (he’s a good businessman), and promptly ordered Pimms with ginger ale.  He asked if we wanted the full treatment—strawberry, cucumber and mint, and we said—“Of course!”  It was tasty.

We ended our meal with “Pudding”—Sticky Toffee for my friend, and hot fudge sundae for me. 

Delish.

Oh, and because we supped before 6:30, we got quite a nice discount on the price of our meal.  Not too shabby!