EATING TOGETHER WITH CHOPSTICKS

I always liked dining with other people. When I was still employed at Fweebink in Menlo Park, I’d often get a bunch of colleagues together and we’d head into Palo Alto for eaties. Indian Restaurants, the lone Jamaican place, Mexican food …… didn’t matter what, as long as there were other folks at the table. Even mediocre Japanese sushi or suburban lunch counter chow. Sit down, talk, enjoy the time. In any case better than Abdul Slamdunk’s Deli back in the industrial park, no?

[NOTE: The names ‘Fweebink’ and 'Abdul Slamdunk’s Deli' are fictitious. Fweebink was a computer company where I worked for four years – some of my friends remember the place – and Abdul Slamdunk’s is my catch-all for almost any substandard sandwich shop run by apatheticals. It was misguided of them to go into food-service, but a stroke of genius to do so where there was no competition and most folks would settle for whatever was quick and nearby.]


食自己 - SIK TZI KEI
EATING ON ONE'S OWN
I got out of the habit of eating with coworkers at the end of the last century. For one thing, some of the places where I worked had neither atmosphere nor employees that were warm to the concept. At the law-offices there were far too many Philippinas to even consider social eating – sorry, just not particularly fond of Philippinas – many suburbanite white folk with broomsticks up their donkeys, and far fewer engineers and computer geeks.
Since then I have been surrounded by people who talk about sports or television shows.

I’m not interested in sports, television is crap.

And I no longer work in an environment with a lot of Chinese-Americans. White folks and good food are not a natural combination.

Nor am I interested in introducing people to eats in Chinatown. Most folks think they already know everything about what the Cantonese eat, and are convinced that what they themselves do not order every single time at the chop-suey shack up the road from their suburban ranch dwelling is strange, odd, unusual, unappetizing, weird, incredibly nasty, or just plain wrong.


"Steamed pork belly with shredded ginger and shrimp paste?!? Eeeeoooooooo!"


Followed by: "you can have all of it, I’ll just stick to my Kung Pao Shrimp over rice, no sharing please, separate checks".

This doesn’t always happen – sometimes I’ll order lionsheads or all family happy, or something similarly earthy. But most white people are not inspired eaters, and I’ll be damned if I settle for mu shu anything just to keep the other lofans at the table quiet. What’s the point of eating out if you don’t ever wish to taste something new?
And why even bother heading into Chinatown if YOU are going to order sweet and sour pork riceplate, then look with no little wonder and disgust at the bowl of rice porridge with salt vegetable and minced chicken which I requested?
Just try it, you stupid kwailo! Yes, with the cut-up fried poof-dough stick mixed in! And peanuts!

Shee……… ! Choke on some bubble-tea, why don’t you?

I miss eating with other people. I miss having fellow diners making happy mouth sounds while tucking into something scrumptious. Most of all, I miss the adventure of finding something new in charming company.

Savage Kitten was very nice to eat with, and keen to discover interesting things. She doesn’t have much of an appetite now, and our schedules have changed. I’m not hungry, and don’t feel like going out on my own.
We both miss eating with each other, but, you know…… we’re ‘readjusting’.
It will take a while before we start doing that again, and it won’t be as it once was. Good. But not quite.

I miss that unabashed joy at chopsticking delicious things.


Seriously, I need to be adopted by happy Chinese food eaters. And if they’ve read fun stuff recently, so much the better. It will give us something to chat about while slurping. We can share fun things to eat.

Choi sum with garlic. Pork cake with dried fish. Country casserole of dried seafood products with rich brown stock, slivered Chienkang ham, and mountain root. White cooked chicken chunks, sesame oil brushed, with a dab of hot sauce. Dark-roasted duck, nice and fatty.



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