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.

Thursday, May 24, 2018


Last night I cooked something with chili peppers. Shortly after I came out of the kitchen, she (my apartment mate) went in. And started coughing. Which is sad, because it indicates that the likelihood of finding another person who appreciates my style of food may be rather slim.

Years ago I went to a farewell luncheon for a departing coworker. There were six of us, and I felt distinctly like the third wheel. But the food was truly exceptional. I have never been back to that restaurant.

Lunch yesterday was 生滾肉丸粥 ('saang gwan yiuk yuen juk'; rice porridge with meat balls) and a cup of Hong Kong milk tea. There were two other customers in the place, eating alone also.

Sharing a meal is sacramental. But most people eat crap.
Eating alone is much more common now.
Modern life.

My apartment mate bought a lovely tres leches cake a few days ago.
We shared it. Cake is such a lovely word.

Dine by one's lonesome.
Smoke outside.

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