"The one you just told us about, linguine with shrimp."
"No, that's not the pasta du jour, that's the special pasta of the day."
"The pasta of the day isn't the pasta du jour?"
"No, pasta du jour is marinara, Alfredo, whatever you want. It's really just a child's portion."
I thanked him for the clarification and got "mashed potatoes à la crme" instead. For those of you unfamiliar with Solo dialect, à la apparently is slang for "without."
Solo on the Bay has a full bar (indoors and stylishly white), and I suppose they stock wine as well, though they never presented us with a list. We were, however, offered a tray of petits fours by a man weaving his way through the dining patio, hawking them table to table in a manner not unlike those intrepid entrepreneurs who trek through romantic restaurants selling roses. Uninformed of the petit four option, we had already finished a satisfactory crème brûlée and wedge of chocolate ganache cake that was rich, dry, and stiff from refrigeration. Coffee was fine: hot and strong. They overcharged for it, but rather than point out the error I just chalked it up to an understandable overexuberance for having finally gotten something right.