IT was something of a puzzlement for flame-haired travel adviser Jenny May when a party of discerning tourists from Scotland, enjoying the finer things of life that are found in abundance here, proclaimed in one voice that they wanted to dine at China Max.
Discreet inquiries by Jenny revealed that her shamelessly chauvinist Caledonian guests, longing for something closer to home by way of change, had plumped for the Times Square eatery having mistakenly thought its name was China Mac's.
'So where's this wee laddie Mac?' they chorused as they swarmed in to be greeted by the sight of the tall, urbane and unmistakably Austrian figure of proprietor Max Schnallinger.
Tucking into the decidedly un-Gaelic cuisine on offer, some of them were even heard to opine that there was a lot to be said for nosh that didn't figure sheep's entrails, porridge, and soggy turnips.
'They loved the oriental food,' said a bewildered Schnallinger. 'But,' he added, 'nobody opted for the Scottish smoked salmon.'
