Reborn in America, I am a legendary short seller on Wall Street.

Chapter 65 The Guest at Table 18 (Seeking monthly votes and recommendations)

While chatting with the sales clerk, Larry learned that ice cream already existed in the United States at that time, but he didn't know where to buy it until today.

After buying the clothes, Larry still had $358 left. Although this was one of the most expensive restaurants in Boston, he should be able to manage.

Seeing Larry's interest in the ice cream, the waiter quickly asked, "Sir, would you like to have it at the bar on the first floor, or in a private room on the second floor?"

The first floor is the bar area, which maintains the latest English style of the United Oyster House, with a large central circular bar. Diners sit on both sides of the bar, drinking various beverages as if they were in a bar, while waiting for the chef with an oyster knife to shuck the fresh oysters, drizzle them with lemon juice, and hand them directly to the diners.

But this scene hadn't appeared yet; Larry had arrived too early.

Larry glanced at the still somewhat messy first floor, where the staff were preparing for the official opening in half an hour, and frowned. "Take me to the private rooms on the second floor. Hopefully, it'll be quieter there than here."

The waiter smiled and led Larry straight to the private room on the second floor.

The second-floor private seating consists of fixed booths surrounded by high-backed chairs with red velvet cushions. Because of the high backs, guests have a certain degree of privacy, and even if someone is chatting or smoking a cigar inside, it will not affect the VIPs in other seats.

Once Larry went up to the second floor, he could feel that it was much warmer, and he even felt uncomfortable wearing his coat because it was so hot.

Larry didn't see a fireplace, but there were probably cast iron radiators or other heating items on the second floor.

The waiter led Larry directly to table number 16. Next to the private table were coat racks and a brass spittoon. Before Larry could even touch them, the waiter, wearing clean white gloves, had already taken Larry's hat and coat and placed them on the coat rack.

Larry sat calmly in the high-backed chair.

The waiter bowed slightly and asked, "Sir, would you like the ice cream first? If you'd like to order dinner as well, you can place your order now."

Larry thought for a moment and then ordered, "Bring the ice cream first. I'd like to try it out, and if I like it, I can have another one."

"Yes, sir!" the waiter replied, turning and leaving.

Larry took out his pocket watch and looked at it. It was only 5:21 a.m., which was still early.

At that moment, Larry noticed that wisps of smoke were slowly rising from behind the high-backed chair opposite the booth across from him, which meant someone was smoking a cigar in the next room.

Sure enough, after a short while, a familiar cigar aroma wafted over, just like the cigars Larry had smoked with Mr. Wallace before—a Cuban cigar.

Larry thought to himself, "There are guests who were here even before me."

Just then, a childish voice came from next door, "The little bird flew away, Dad, Dad..."

"Hmm..." came another calm voice.

"Books, look, birds, sun..." The clear, childlike voice was still chanting.

Larry was a little helpless about this. These days, the VIP booths weren't private rooms, and the noise from across the street could still be heard, especially on the second floor, which wasn't too noisy yet.

Larry doesn't hate children, but he definitely doesn't like them either. He can hear the children's voices in the next room alone, but the thought of those drooling little brats climbing up and down and being a constant nuisance gives Larry a headache.

These days there are no cell phones to play with, and sitting here listening to the little brat next door is really annoying!
Fortunately, just then, a waiter arrived carrying a silver tray with a cup of ice cream on it. The waiter placed the tray on the table and then carefully placed the engraved glass ice cream cup in front of Lala.

The waiter then placed two small plates on the tray, containing fresh blueberries and raspberries, along with three long-handled, small-mouthed silver spoons.

"Please enjoy your meal!" the waiter said.

“Wait a minute,” Larry quickly stopped him. “Can you tell me how your ice cream is made?” Because Larry realized that the ice cream in front of him was not the same as the one in his past life.

What's placed on the linen tabletop looks more like a pile of finely shaved ice, milky white, topped with a variety of complicated condiments. You can tell that the milky white color comes from the ice cream base being served with half a cup of milk, but what are those random but reasonably well-matched condiments on top?
The waiter smiled and explained, “Sir, this ice cream is flavored with orange blossom water and nutmeg, and it’s also made with fresh milk. In addition, we add a lot of condensed milk during the ice cream making process. You’ll find that the sweetness of condensed milk is far superior to that of regular milk when you taste it. Also, if you feel that the taste is not fresh enough, please add blueberries and raspberries to it.”

The waiter spoke with such solemnity that Larry was deeply impressed, thinking to himself, "These days, there are so many rules about eating ice cream."

Larry picked up the small silver spoon, gently scooped out a little ice cream, and put it in his mouth...

Wow, this is definitely an extraordinary feeling!

As the icy, smooth texture spreads across the tongue, the sweet aroma of condensed milk gradually permeates the air, instantly bringing a refreshing sensation that only sweets can provide.

Especially in this private room on the second floor, which is cold on the outside but warm on the inside, and with Larry harboring a hidden unease about the excessive profits, eating a cup of sweet and comforting ice cream can truly heal the soul.

For his second spoonful, Larry scooped out a bit of the nutmeg skin covering the ice cream and put it in his mouth. Sure enough, it was another complex and sweet flavor.

Seeing Larry enjoying his ice cream with a happy expression, the waiter smiled and said goodbye.
"Sir, your side dish will be here shortly, please wait a moment."

Larry, who had been enjoying his meal with his eyes closed, overheard the word "side dish" and quickly turned around to ask, "I didn't order any side dishes?"

The waiter could tell that this was Larry's first time at a high-end restaurant like Union Oyster House, but his top-notch professionalism prevented him from showing any impatience towards the guest. Instead, he maintained an impeccable smile and introduced the restaurant...
"Sir, here we usually serve ice cream with New England clam chowder, otherwise plain ice cream won't suit your taste."

Larry nodded, looked down at the ice cream, and turned to ask, "What other flavors of ice cream do you have?"

"They also have strawberry and pineapple flavors," the waiter replied.

“Alright, one serving of each, but I don’t want any side dishes. One serving of side dishes is enough,” Larry instructed.

The waiter looked troubled and carefully chose his words, saying, "But right now, we don't have a precedent for selling ice cream on its own. It can't be sold separately without side dishes."

Larry smiled faintly and asked, "How much is a serving of ice cream here?"

"$3.5, sir!"

“Oh, that’s easy,” Larry said, pulling $12 from his wallet and handing it to the waiter. “Bring me two more ice creams, but no side dishes. You can decide on the side dishes. I’ll pay the full amount.”

“But…but this is only $10.5.” The waiter placed the dollars directly on the silver tray.

"The rest is your tip," Larry waved his hand.

The waiter looked pleased and thanked him as he left the private room.

Larry stopped talking and started eating his ice cream bite by bite with his little silver spoon, enjoying the sweet and refreshing taste.

Suddenly, a little boy with red hair wearing a warm cotton shirt slowly walked over, stood on tiptoe and leaned against the table, drooling as he watched Larry eat ice cream with great enthusiasm.

Larry paused, then asked, "Do you want some?"

The red-haired boy looked at the ice cream and nodded emphatically to Larry.

(End of this chapter)