HELL, WITH A SIDE OF WON TON

Yesterday evening I was happily putzing around in the kitchen at the time my apartment mate came home. It had been a long day babysitting adults in Marin, and I was looking forward to a nice evening, good food, bit of music, ending with meditation or a cigar out on the front steps.
It's warm enough now in SF that I can do that.

She happily unpacked a new book that had come in the mail, and retired to her room, to read about sharks. When she's sad or depressed, nothing cheers her up so much as predators or violent women.

Kitchen and teevee room all to myself.

And some home-made wontons.

Got in C'town on Thursday.


I made a strong broth by first frying some dried flounder (大地魚 'daideiyu') in a smidge of clarified bacon fat, then seething it with thin stock, letting it boil for a while, and straining out the fish.
Chopped some gaichoi, set it aside. Heated up a vat of water, and while waiting for it to boil, sliced three lovely chili peppers. Put the chili roundels into a small saucer, added a squeeze of lime juice and a pinch of salt to bring out the flavour.
When the water was boiling, dumped in a dozen dumplings.
Reheated the flounder broth, dumped in the gaichoi.
Added a few slices of smoked pork to the broth.

Scooped the wonton out of the pot of boiling water, slid the rice stick noodles in. Didn't want to use the traditional wheat and egg noodles, because I prefer the thick sloopety quality of rice stick.
Won ton into a bowl, broth with gaichoi and pork on top, finish with drained rice stick noodles.

Then left the kitchen for a brief moment.


Now, I should point out that whenever I use the kitchen for cooking, water will be used. Rinsing vegetables, rinsing noodles and won ton to stop the cooking process, washing all utensils the moment I'm done using them. Washing hands whenever handling raw ingredients, or anything that I will be sticking into my mouth. Lots of water.
Cleanliness becomes automatic.

And perhaps I should also explain that the sound of running or splashing water excites the bladder.


If you are a women, you may not understand what happens next. You see, unlike most women, men have a few extra inches to their urethra, encased in a flexible appendage, which means that a certain posture is our preferred method of micturating.

I had been handling chilipeppers.


Halfway through my delicious bowl of wonton with gaichoi in a lovely broth, with sliced chilies on the side, I grew discomfitted. There are no tastebuds in a certain area, but the skin is thinner, and more densely packed with nerves. It was an intense experience. I believe my face turned red, and I trembled.

Once your hands have touched chilipeppers, it takes a while for the capsaicin resin and oils to fade, even washing hands several times.

It does something. You cannot sit still. Distracting motion is required, and forcrapssakes keep those hands from touching any part of your body, most particularly eyes or "sensitive parts".


Here's a helpful visual:

AWESOME!

[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qyQ54PzmyD8.]

The wontons were delicious, the gaichoi was at the perfect stage of toothsome tenderness, and the chilies seemed like velvet on the tongue because of the thin-slicing. There was a fragrance to the broth which added so much more than a plain chicken stock could have done.

My forehead was beaded with sweat.
And I was positively quivering.

Watch that video again.




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