The smoke took approximately half an hour to enjoy, mostly in an alley next to Portsmouth Square, while watching cheeky sparrows taunting pigeons, and listening to card-game quarrels from the elderly folks seated near the public restrooms.
Obviously not the most romantic of times was passed, but you will be glad to know that I wasn't squiring anyone around on this adventure.
Which also explains why what I actually ate was not what really would have been perfect for a date.
What it should have been: preserved pork and Chinese sausage claypot rice, with oyster sauce mustard greens on the side, washed down with copious amounts of tea in a restaurant with tablecloths.
[NOTES: 臘味煲仔飯，同蠔油芥菜 'laahp mei po chai faan, tung hou yau gaai choi'; claypot rice (煲仔飯) is parboiled rice finished in a claypot with flavouring layered on top, oyster sauce (蠔油) is a cooking condiment (condensed oyster liquids) invented over a century ago by the founder of Lee Kum Kee (李錦記) in Hong Kong.]
And I know exactly the place where that can be done.
But, being by myself, all that would have been far too much for just one person, and I hate carting home leftovers. So instead I had Shanghai dumplings, chive bonnets, glutinous rice balls, and taro puffs.
Scarfed down in a casual eatery I often visit.
Which was exceedingly good too.
[NOTES: 小籠飽、韭菜餃、糯米飽、炸芋角 'siu lung baau', 'gau choi gaau', 'nuo mai baau', 'ja wu gok'; all classic dimsum items, though the first mentioned is a fairly recent innovation, originating as it does far to the north of the Pearl River estuary.]
I am quite fond of tiny bun-like things and steamed dumplings.
The coffee was mediocre, but that is a known issue.
Chinatown is hardly a fine bean mecca.
Deep fried taro puffs are extremely reminiscent of typical Dutch croquettes, though made of entirely different ingredients. So naturally they are one of my favourite items.
I particularly like them with a dollop of chili paste.
The pipe to follow was a blessing.
Tonight's dinner is an okra stew over noodles, which took all of ten minutes to prepare. Quick and easy single-man food.
Plus hot sauce, and a cup of milk-tea.
A pipe will follow.
Whether a woman would enjoy any of the food above is, really, a great big mystery. I haven't been near a recent graduate student or timorous young thing in years. I do know that the overwhelming majority of women hate the smell of pipes, pipe tobacco, and individuals who smoke pipes.
Which is extremely hurtful to sensitive men.
Why do most females abjure, disavow, repudiate, loathe, abhor, detest, abominate, despise, forswear, avoid, disfavour, and otherwise just plain dislike such an innocent and evocative fragrance?
Not only hurtful, but strange and peculiar.
Maybe it's sheer perversity.
I suppose for a date I'd have to bring along two cigars instead; one for me, one for her. That way I can leave the offensive pipe at home.
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