Tõnis Valdmann. Manager

Is it really silence? Is no one else really coming today? Morning started with apples, the day ended with Apple – eggs, a candlestick, one peculiar clock, I don’t know from which era; pastries from the day before yesterday; what people! Fur, no, not fur, just someone’s old collar. Pictures, quite a lot of pictures; baranki, no, pearls; no, baranki; no, still pearls; yes, it was that awkward woman with a long white neck – there was too much of everything, I guess. But does the world move for less…

Orm Puks. Sommelier

Thirteenth and Friday happens every month that begins on a Sunday… the candle on the table lit itself again?! I didn’t light it, not this Friday nor on the Friday in the previous century. I just didn’t light it. Now I have to ask the cat what’s with that candle. Three years ago the cat was under the table; I wonder if it is still under there?

Kristi Olesk. Waitress-administrator

Jaanipäevaks kõrgeks kasvab rohi, rinnust saadik kõrgub kastehein. Ütle, kust ma rada teha tohin – igal pool on noor ja õitsev hein!. .. No, this is not it, instead it was: “forever young, I want to be forever young. Do you really want to live forever? For ever, for ever….” and now these rolls, rolls?! Women shouldn’t be allowed to run from door to door with such awfully heavy things like bread rolls. Couldn’t all these lovely people who want fresh bread every single day just move away from planet Earth…“forever young, I want to be forever young”.

Daanius Aas. Chef

I have baked thousands of loafs of bread over hundreds of years. My hands know exactly what they are doing. I know even without measuring how much is 542 g of flour or 137 g of sugar and I know without counting how many eggs are three eggs! Despite the world’s most beautiful midnight blue eyes gazing at me at the moment, from which I cannot avert my eyes, and a tempting pouted red mouth like a cherry turned at me, I’m still not disturbed at work. In spite of everything, I’m still making bread from bread!

Kaarel Jaksi. Chef

Mozart, Mozart, Mozart, Paganini… cake icing syringe is a violin, a real violin, no matter what they say. Music, music, music! Cooking is like a song that makes one crave a sturdy leg of lamb. Crescendo, crescendo, crescendo or piano, pianissimo, as the last drop of cloud white double cream slowly hits the golden yellow shortcake. Why didn’t father allow me to take piano lessons with Franz Liszt? Already as a child, I knew that music is in every strawberry.

Roman Sidorov. Chef

At pike’s command and my wish, may all these Baltic herrings lying here turn into goldfish, of which everyone grants my three wishes. What to wish for? There are too many fish. The pike is already enough. I would very much like to have a pair of old boots. I’m sure the pike would make it happen. It’s embarrassing to go fishing in such new boots. Where did I get these from, they look like they’re from somewhere else? Strange, but sometimes I also feel like I am from somewhere else. But maybe everybody else is from somewhere else?

Aigi Parker. Waitress

Time stands still just like me standing behind unwashed pots. It gets boring. Where is this fairy-tale, in which I could be Cinderella? If I wash all the dishes before the evening and also the floors, and the walls, and the ceilings, and the sky, so there are no dirty grey clouds in front of bright stars… do I then get the right to be a princess?

Darja Basnina. Waitress

The world is simply mine, like this fruit platter. All the things you could get if you simply dared to ask for even one small apple or if you look at someone with a smile long enough. Actually, it doesn’t matter. I wonder whether the apple that Eve picked in paradise was sweet? Adam definitely thought it wasn’t. Anyhow, I’m going to eat all of this fruit alone; then no one will have anything to say if any of them happen to be sour.

Girti Suun. Waitress

Where are they all going? Like the present moment didn’t exist at all. If I could only stop them, show them to themselves through someone else’s eyes just for once. People are weird. Life like in a market place: someone rushing by with a fish trolley, someone with a bread basket, sheep scattered somewhere, someone talking into their phone for hours on end; with the sun and the moon standing side by side in the sky today! Oops, the milk will spill soon; I must hurry and find a new jug.

Orm Oja. Head chef I

The pumpkin is not the heaviest, not these huge balls of cheese, not the ham, or the sausages… grapes can sometimes be sour, but these are not heavy either. The table is scattered with enormously rich food, angst of delicatessen – in the end, this is not heavy either. The crown on my head is heavy, although the crown shouldn’t weigh anything because a king is a king, even without the crown! But from a human point of view, anyone’s neck would start to hurt if he had to wear a bunch of metal on his head the whole day.

Natalja Kudinova. Sommelier

I forgot to take off my wristwatch! Everything was positioned ideally: me, small and lovely, red hair, little green dress, pastel harmony, fragile woman contradicted with a robust vegetable basket bursting with the richness of colours like Life itself, and then a watch?! I can’t even take it off because Rubens is already painting and I know how nervous Peter Paul would get if I moved even an inch. But I have to! The great Rubens himself said that once this painting is finished, time will lose its importance when looking at it, only eternity shall remain. For the sake of art, Peter, I need to leave your picture just for a moment.

Mart Klaas. Head chef II

I’m really sorry, but the falcon really likes the Tirol hat. I have tried to retrain him several times, but as soon as I turn fully into a knight and put on a helmet, on top of everything, the falcon starts to jerk and scream, so my entire armour echoes. I know, no normal person would go hunting clad in armour, but this is me. I can’t go against my own nature and perhaps at least my own bird could understand – after all, I understand my bird.

Silver Bekiš. Chef

I think sheep made from clouds are fatter than mine. I shall have another look. Don’t know, mine still seem to be tubbier.

Ones made from clouds have whiter fur, but this can’t be said during rainy weather, because then they are quite grey in the sky, perhaps even black. I wonder, whose sheep these are anyway? Really, whose sheep are they?

Mehis Peitre. Chef

Somewhere behind the forest and the sea lived a humble prince who wore a velvety vest and a light turban. He preferred fine salt in his soup, but they always used coarse; he wanted tomato instead of garlic, but never got it. Life is wonderful. Chilli made his mouth glow and the onion smelled bitter, but these were on the table every day. He would have rather put parsley into a vase and thrown wild garlic out of the window, but didn’t allow these fatal vegetables to frighten him. Even the things he didn’t like had their own charm.

Frank-Leander Sapego

All the things you could get from a simple cow! But a cow is not just a cow. Nothing is actually just the thing it seems to be. A cow is milk, cream, butter, cheese; a cow is meat. Just like a drop of water from the sky is actually refreshing rain. Every time I slice cheese, I remember banana, melon, pumpkin, the moon, and a reflective vest. I could swear that a cow is not just a cow.

Riho Sommerman

I’m coming. I already put on my long distance slippers and I will be flying in a moment; honestly, brother. I understand you have no time to wait; you are always busy there. Everything is fine here, only one little thing to solve. Nothing bad, just minor family issues. Me? No, no, brother, what are you talking about; not me, the rooster; oh, what rooster? Well, this is a longer story, I must go now, you know, these chickens… hello, hello… I was cut off. The future is a mystery. It’s hard to understand how my brother copes there every day.

Tanel Kaunissaar

Gravity! I’d like to repulse from this potato, but Newton has united me and the potato forever. Gravity is one of the four fundamental forces that draws bodies with weight towards each other. The potato and I are moving towards each other with a force proportional to the mass of our bodies and inverse to the squared distance between us. I want to fly!? Doesn’t Einstein’s Theory of Relativity really offer any option where two would be one instead and the potato would disappear forever? Actually, I like the potato! All is relative, but without Einstein, just like gravity works without Newton.

Dmitri Zabolotnõi. Senior waiter

Light falls on me from the left. I’m looking at the light. The light always falls from where my gaze is fixed. The sky already knows where to shine its light. Yesterday, I looked right and the heavenly light fell exactly from there, shone on the scripture’s screen, just like today. I shall drink to this, just like I drank yesterday. You can’t not celebrate such illumination with red wine.

Aivar Ohno. Senior waiter.

I blow and blow, but no sounds are heard. I think the instrument is broken. The people are waving, I suppose they do hear something. I continue slowly, breathe, and blow. Silence. Well, doesn’t matter, I don’t have to hear my own words as long as the others get it. What, what are you shouting? So you can’t hear it! Do you really not hear my huge horn, these powerful deep sounds that have always made the lands and the mountains tremble? I think they just don’t want to hear and if they don’t want it, there won’t be any sounds. Honestly, I’m tired of this endless blaring.