A WET LITTLE DOUGH POCKET FRAME OF MIND
It's some guy who works in a kitchen a few streets over. Bastard!
Yesterday, after having been at the office for several hours, I headed over to Chinatown for lunch, only to discover that the place at which I intended to eat is closed on Sunday. So instead I headed two blocks further north and ordered a plate of 水餃 instead. This was just before three o'clock in the afternoon.
I should have known.
My own stupid fault.
Fourteen hours later I was dreaming about specific foods.
The perspicacious reader has by now figured out what kind of restaurant it was where I had those 水餃, so really there is no need for me to detail it.
Suffice to say that I should've had the 生煎包 instead, seeing as I had had 水餃 the previous time. And I've made it a point to not rely too much on the tried and true, but to experiment and eat different things.
It's a voyage of discovery.
One learns so much about oneself by eating something new.
And I would've done so, except that I was the only customer at the time, it being after lunch. So 水餃 seemed like an easy choice, whereas 生煎包 might have meant a serious imposition on a person taking a rest between lunch and dinner.
水餃 merely require boiling - anyone can do that.
生煎包 on the other hand require a trained hand and a keen eye.
Plus hot fat.
And he was probably taking a nap.
Hard-working cooks deserve their rest.
It's HIS fault that I woke up with a full menu in my head and a yen for rich soupy juices. Bastard!
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