At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Thursday, June 30, 2016

THE BIRD

A place that specializes in roast pork and roast duck, and other items from the siu mei selection, is probably not the best place for sweet and sour pork and shrimp-fried rice. But they probably would not have known that.
They also wanted egg-rolls, but were disappointed.
How sad!

On the other hand, I thoroughly enjoyed my roast duck over rice. Because they do that very well. An elderly Cantonese American professional person of my acquaintance sneers at that restaurant, characterizing what they do as coarse muck for peasants, but seeing as he also pokes fun at my pronunciation whenever I speak Cantonese, claiming that I'm quite unintelligible, and I know that his ability to write his parents ancestral language is near-zilch (whereas I can read Chinese fairly decently), naturally I shall totally ignore whatever he says about food.
Other than to feel pity for his know-it-all arse.
Damned good duck.


PIPE, WALK, LOTTERY TICKET

Typical summer weather, a chilly day and a bitter wind in the streets of Chinatown. Even I would wear some of those leopard prints and zebra stripes if it kept my legs warm. But those probably look better on the housewives and little school girls wearing them anyway.
Same goes for the fluffy pink ruffles.

Chinatown female clothing styles veer toward practical, berserk, and comfortable. With hints of devil-may-care and in-your-face. Dressed very inappropriately yet sensibly, they will survive the ice age that is June-July in San Francisco, and hunt the mastodon and cave bear.

They are not tourists. They do not wear shorts and tees, and they do not eat strange foods of dubious provenance.


ITALY CAKE

After I finished my smoke it was significantly colder than it had been.
Which necessitated a hot cup of Mandarin Ducks and a luscious slice of tiramisu cake (一杯鴛鴦同埋一嚿意大利蛋糕 'yat pui yuen-yeung tong mai yat gau yi-daai-lei daan-gou').

The correct full term for Tiramisu Cake is 意大利苦杏酒芝士蛋糕 ('yi-daai-lei fu-hang-jau ji-si daan-gou'), meaning Italy bitter almond hooch cheese-cake. Often shortened to 意大利芝士蛋糕 ("Italian cheese-cake"), and commonly shortened yet again to "Italy Cake".
It is available locally.


華盛頓茶餐廳 
['waa-seng-duen chaa-chaanteng']
WASHINGTON BAKERY AND RESTAURANT
733 Washington Street
San Francisco, CA 94108.
415-397-3232
舊金山,華盛頓街733號。


The Washington is a good place for a late afternoon snack.
A popular destination for many people.
They also do hot dishes.


RED HEADED PARROTS
紅頭鸚鵡 ['hung tau ying-mou']

It was quite frigid down at Sue Bierman Park, and the crazy people were shivering under motley blankets, except for one or two staggering about in their own reality. A mumbling wild-haired waif-woman threw her filled coffee cup at a shadow, and it exploded in a splash outward. Various types of birds hopped around in the underbrush, while above them crimson-crowned green conures feasted upon ripe berries or small drupes.

No, I do not know what that fruit is. Some kind of plum?

It is golden yellow, small, and marble-shaped.

The birds were all very happy.

I smoked a second pipe while watching them scarcely five feet from my nose. They did not object to a nearly motionless fellow with his pipe so close, quite unlike how the average San Franciscan would react.
Not a single one of the parrots told me how bad it was.
Or that it stank, and was poisoning them.
Or killing children.

They are self-confident creatures, with facial expressions that show they know something that maybe we don't, or did once but forgot.
It seems to cheer them immensely.


It was already dark and foggy when I returned home. In the airwell the noise of quarelling neighbors nearly drowned out my apartment mate in the kitchen, cooking while singing songs from Sweeney Todd. She does that regularly, preparing buckets of food for her culinarily-impaired boyfriend, who might find her choice of lyric disturbing.

The poor guy can't cook worth a damn.
She will take it over to his place.
He probably can't identify it.
It's food, but he's white.
Does not compute.

A shmo.

She is far too considerate of his need for sustenance.
I think starving a bit would do him good.
But she wants to feed him.
Fatten him up.

I knew she was going to do that, which is why I decided to have din-din in Chinatown and wander around for several hours. The kitchen is kind of off limits while she is in there. It is much too small for safety.
And honestly, I do not mind roast duck one bit.
Or tiramisu cake and a restorative cup.
Or watching the parrots.
Or a pipe.




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