"Here's another one. Lemon Tripe. I forget what that is. Could be stomach or bowel."

"What's the big deal with organ meats?"

Rosie had completed her circuit and she now headed back to our table. "I hef idea. I prepare for you special. Big surprise."

"No, no, no," Henry said. "I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble. We'll just order from what's here. My goodness. So many interesting dishes. What are you having, Kinsey?"

"Me? Oh. Well, actually on a night like this, I'd love a nice big bowl of soup and maybe noodles on the side. Could you do that for me?"

"Easy. Of course. I give Shepherd's Soup. Is already make," she said, pausing to pencil an elaborate note on her order pad. She turned to Henry.

"I think I'll hold off for now. I just had a bite before I came over here."

"Little plate of dumplings? Jellied pork? Is fresh. Very good."

"Don't tempt me. Maybe later. I'll just keep her company for now," he said.

Rosie pursed her lips and then shrugged to herself. I thought she'd insist, but apparently decided to let him suffer. Neither of us said a word until she'd disappeared.

I leaned forward. "Why didn't you tell me you were doing that? I could have said the same thing."

"I blurted out the first thing that occurred to me. You were quick about it, too. Soup and noodles. That's safe. How can you go wrong?"

My gaze strayed toward the kitchen. Mere seconds had passed, and Rosie was already using her backside to push her way through the swinging kitchen doors into the dining room, bearing a wide tray that held a shallow bowl of steaming soup.

I said, "Oh, geez. Here she comes. I hate service this quick. It's like eating in a Chinese restaurant. You're in and out on the street again twenty minutes later."

She crossed the room, setting the tray on the adjoining table, then placing the bowl in front of me. She tucked her hands under her apron and looked at me. "How you like?"

"I haven't tried it yet." I fanned some of the steam toward my face, trying to define the odor. Burnt hair? Dog hide? "Gee, this smells great. What is it?"

She peered at my bowl, identifying some of the diced ingredients. "Is parsnip, ongion, carrot, kohlrabi –"

"I love vegetable soup!" I said, with perhaps more enthusiasm than I'd ordinarily express. I tipped my spoon down into the depths, bringing up a rich cargo of root vegetables.

She was still peering. "Is also head, neck, lungs, and liver of one lamb."