0

I like girls. They have a different way of doing so many things in life, and the kitchen is no exception. When boys cook they bang pans together, throw stuff around, obsess over minor details, shout, fiddle around with the presentation, and leave the place looking like Hong Kong's landfill zone during a barge-pilots' strike. When girls cook, they cook. And then they clean up. With the professional kitchen such male-dominated territory, it's nice to come across a place like Pri Skofu, where all the staff are female. Situated in the Krakovo area of Ljubljana, you're surrounded by vegetable gardens and small, pretty houses, with a good view of the river. "I like it," said Figo as we arrived, "It's peaceful." There are several tables outside, but it's worth having a look at the interior too, as it has a feel unlike any other establishment you're likely to visit in Slovenia. Bright, bold colours, in yellow, green and blue: Ronaldo loved it. Photos and paintings hang on the walls, and there's not a bit of faux rusticity in sight. Well done, ladies. But does the female touch extend to the food? The usual procedure at Skof is that one of the girls will approach the table and reel off a staggering number of dishes, with different sauces for pastas and steaks, other cuts of meat, salads, and some highly eclectic combinations. Hunched crab-like over the table, Zidane was the first to strike, seizing on the octopus salad. It's the kind of dish that can be done well, or atrociously. At Skof it was the former, ZZ's face lighting up in quiet enjoyment of a choice well executed. Beckham tucked into his gazpacho, once we had advised he use a spoon rather than a fork, and pronounced it adequate, although perhaps a little lacking in brightness, with the wrong choice of spice, no actually that's enough Beckham jokes, the soup was fine. With Ronaldo still raving over the d'cor, Raul and I ordered some gnocchi to start, having managed to recall a mention of rocket and gorgonzola. The soft, plump gnocchi arrived, bathed in a rich coating of blue cheese sauce, with the peppery rocket providing the necessary cutting edge. I let them slide delicately down, aware that over the other side of the table there was much kissing of ring. In the summer many of the dishes come garnished with flowers, another feminine wile that deserves audience appreciation. With so many market gardeners in the neighbourhood, there is always an emphasis on fresh herbs, and they also like to serve up meat and fish mains on a bed of salad, a welcome change from the protein-and-potato approach. Our steaks came rare as ordered, with the porcini sauce probably the pick, although Figo's pepper sauce was no bad specimen. A final eclectic touch was Roberto Carlos's turkey dish, which came with goat's cheese and pineapple, a potential abomination of the Hawaiian pizza level. Would he blast it against the wall? Not this time: the dish was excellent, the soft, fruity, sweet and salty sauce complementing the blandness of turkey flesh well. More good work ladies. All in all, Pri Skofu is a refreshingly different place to eat, and to drink. There are some good wines on the list, with my choice of the very well-priced Villa Maria red slipping down more easily than Figo in the penalty box. And though these Galacticos boys aren't much for the booze, they were all engaged by the feminine atmosphere and the simple but elegant food. "Now I like girls too," said Ronaldo. I knew it, I knew it. Food: 5/7 Booze: 5/7 Service: 6/7