Many,
many years ago, when Poznan was at the crossroads of trading routes, it prospered
from it greatly. Elaborate tenement buildings were raised one after another,
the cobblestone roads were smoothed, and the Town Hall was expanded with arches
and a new tower. The mayor of the city proud of his newest achievement suggested
even further improvements to the Town Hall building. He proposed to build a
clock for the new tower. “It will make the citizens punctual,” he advised.
The
recommendation of the mayor was approved and a new clock was commissioned. On
the second Saturday of September a celebration was announced to unveil the new
clock. For this occasion the best chef in the city was to prepare his delicacies.
On
the announced day, Chef Bartek watched carefully every move that was made in
his kitchen including setting of the tables. The tables had to be set with the
white linens smoothed perfectly. Every dish had to have a fresh green rosemary
twig to decorate the edges of plates. The pork roast, the mayor’s favorite, had
to have the perfect amount of salt and pepper.
While
the chef’s inn was busy with preparations, the city center was filling with
crowds of people eager to see the new clock. The music travelled along the
narrow alleys attracting more and more people.
Chef
Bartek hearing the music himself decided to step outside the inn just for a
moment. He left the pork roast under a precise control of young Peter, “Do not
step away from the roast for one second.” Peter a hard-working boy was helping
the chef from the early morning, constantly hearing, bring this and that, take
this over here and carry that over there. He didn’t even have a chance to eat
breakfast. And with all the savory aroma spreading inside the inn, it was hard
to control his hunger.
“What
will happen if I leave it just for a moment?” murmured Peter. He stepped away
from the roast to eat a few pancakes left on the table. But right at that moment
the handle of the roast slipped with the pork burning the crispy skin. Instantly
the burning whiff filled the inn.
When Chef Bartek stepped back inside
the inn, he found crying Peter bent over the roast. He quickly realized what
had just happened. The suspicious smell already reached him outside. “What have
you done!” yelled the chef pulling Peter’s ear. “Run to the butcher and get me
another piece of pork for roast.” The chef knew there was not enough time to
make the roast, but still made the poor boy do it.
The butcher’s shop was located
almost on the outskirts of the town, next to the green meadow. Peter had to
take back alleys, passing cobbler’s workshop and bakery. Both were closed. “Probably
for the occasion,” thought Peter. As he reached the meadow, he noticed two
goats grazing close to the edge of the town. “Ah, the butcher is probably
closed too,” concluded Peter. So he didn’t walk any farther, instead he pulled
two goats behind him.
The goats probably sensed what was
ahead of them; they pressed their hooves into the ground and tried stopping
Peter from pulling them. But the cobblestone alleys were slippery under the
hooves. So Peter pulled and the goats moved. Now, they were close to the
center, when the loud music scared the goats. They pressed the hooves to the
ground again and the thin rope attached to their horns broke.
The goats ran straight into the city
center, knocking down the stalls. The merry people, who danced according to a quick
note made room for the goats surrounding them in circle. The scared goats or
maybe according to the music started head-butting each other, which made the
people laugh out loud. At the same moment, the veil was dropped and the clock
stroke noon.
The chef seeing the goats at the
center of the town and now Peter running toward them, he knew exactly what had
just happened. He tried to suppress a smile as he knew an explaining had to be
done. He looked around for the mayor and approached him explaining the
situation regarding roast. And about the goats, he left it for Peter to explain
it himself.
Peter
stumbled to explain what had occurred. However, the mayor was a soft spoken and
good hearted man. So he said, “It looks as everybody had a good laugh, but I
don’t want to see you stealing another goat, promise?”
Speechless
boy nodded quickly in agreement.
All
was forgiven, and instead of pork roast, the mayor was satisfied with baked chicken.
To
commemorate this event, two wooden goats were carved and added to the clock,
where you can still see them every noon head butting.
No comments:
Post a Comment