At the back of the hill

Warning: May contain traces of soy, wheat, lecithin and tree nuts. That you are here
strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton.
And that you might like cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Wednesday, April 04, 2018


Some evil bastard, probably employed by the city, has littered Spofford Alley with rat traps. Last night when I passed by there were already many victims, several furry corpses, with their little necks broken. I fear that the small colony of lovable white rodents that was living there, near the now empty ghost paper and incense shop, may have been extinguished.

Over many months I had come to know them.
I felt that a bond existed.
It is very sad.

They've also been laying concrete, and the boondoggle beautification project which turned that passage way into a little slice of third world hell may finally be drawing to a close, with typical municipal efficiency.
A miracle in grey concrete! Several months beyond the planned completion date, and after driving many neighborhood enterprises into bankruptcy.
It will be fabulous, and all the tourists will love it.
And, in the end, that's what matters.

The bookseller and I ended up at the usual place, where the owner was much more drunk and belligerent than usual. It's a tradition of many years, which is now far less fun than it was before management of that bar discovered tequila. A birthday celebration was in progress.

There was an enormous roast pig there, plus some kind of noodle dish.

We did not have any. The bookseller abstained because of growing regrets over a donut he had eaten earlier -- lets call that a digestive angst damned well bordering on existential despair -- and I because I have doubts about the healthgiving properties of pork left out at room temperature for half a day, and pawed over by random people.

Pork is a very great good. Under the right circumstances.

In the New Guinea highlands it is often the cause of significant gastric distress, due to handling issues, all the ritual obligations of a big feed involving several dozen people, and haphazard culinary practices.
Plus a lack of clean running water, and flies.


In all honesty, while I like roast pork (燒肉 'siu yiuk'), I am much more fond of fatty slabs of pork belly stewed with salted brassica (which I have described in great detail here: mui choi kau yiuk).

It is much less tribal, more civilized.

If I don't have it for lunch today -- at one of my favourite cheap lunch counters where it's on the steamtable as part of the "three dishes and soup" deal (三餸一湯 'saam song yat tong'; rice is naturally included), I may end up having roast pork and fuzzy melon over rice (燒肉節瓜飯 'siu yiuk jit gwaa faan') at another joint. Which I had last week also.

But pork must be part of the programme.
I eat suburban tomorrow.
Ick poo.

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