CLOSE, BUT NO CIGAR

Something that will please my doctor: sauteed bitter melon with hot chilies and yellow curry paste. Plus a little meat for extra flavour, and grilled bread. Healthy! Also altogether tasty. It made the uninspired sammich I had for lunch yesterday fade into the past.
What we need at work, barring tasty to-go stuff from members of whatever ethnic or cultural group shares my preferences, is a hot plate.
Or heck, a camp stove.


Doktor tidak memberitahu jangan makan tjabai, jangan makan kari. Makan malam: tumis pare dengan croutons dan daging panggang. Pedas sekali.


Yesterday afternoon James dwelt lovingly on the laksa his wife made, which he adores. He's in his seventies, and I imagine his wife is not very much less aged. He's Anglo, his wife is Chinese (I think originally from Hong Kong, but I've never met her because good Cantonese girls seldom hang around environments that reek of cigars being smoked).
Even when they're grandmothers.


Any Dutchman will tell you that the perfect end to any meal involving curry-spices and / or noodles is a cigar. James is not Dutch, but his sensibilities are in the right place.

My doctor isn't Dutch either, so as a responsible medical man he might eschew the cheroot.

With envy.


As a courtesy to the person who occupies the other bedroom in this apartment, no cigars were smoked after I had my dinner.
She puts up with my smells enough already.



That preference-sharing ethnic or cultural group mentioned above: Dutch American bachelor with condiments. Or people who shop in Chinatown.
More of a cultural group than an ethnicity, I guess.




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