This will almost certainly come back to haunt me. I just cannot stop eating this, it is the most delicious rendition of Portuguese Chicken Rice that I have ever made. Rice, chicken, potato, curry paste and a splash of coconut milk, chilies, ginger. Touch of nutmeg, a little extra ground pre-toasted cumin.
Olive oil, cast-iron skillet.
Sprinkle of grated cheese melted on top.
It is yummy.
葡國雞飯
['Pou gwok gai faan']
There was no fatty Portuguese sausage to add, and I scrimped a bit on the cheese. Plus in its native environment at this time of year there might be a typhoon outside, or threatening to blow in, or just passed. San Francisco does not get typhoons, however.
And we're colder; our temperature is in the fifties.
Theirs, low to mid eighties.
Fahrenheit.
Other factors that come into play are the absence of hot strong milk-tea, or twenty stories of bamboo scaffolding to climb after finishing my meal.
Even if there were such scaffolding, I would not climb it.
Of course I cannot do so now in any case.
I actually feel like waddling.
A bit too full.
I should go out for a post-dinner smoke in a while.
But first, a cup of strong coffee.
And a short nap.
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