COW RIVER

So, doctor's appointment yesterday (just a follow-up, not to worry), followed by a smoke in an alley-way near the clinic, then lunch. I had been thinking about bitter-melon omelette rice, but I do not like being so predictable. One of the dishes they also do is 'fried beef rice-stick noodles'. Broad rice stick is called "sand river rice-noodle: (沙河粉 'saa ho fan'), hence the abbreviation 乾炒牛河 ('gon chaau ngau ho'); or just 牛河 ("cow river").
Which can be stupendous. Or just so-so.

[Blanched rice stick, thin sliced beef, sliced onion, scallion chopped into inches, cleaned bean sprouts, soy sauce and rice wine. Extremely high heat, cooking oil smoking. First three into the pan to caramelize the edges, then add scallion and bean sprouts, flash and sizzle, slop onto a plate. To the table steaming and too hot to eat.]

It hit the spot. But I've learned that a popular chachanteng right around everybody else's lunch time is a bad idea for the single diner.
Worst seat in the house, and nearly invisible.

It takes a man with Asperger several hours to understand that the pleasant plump-faced waitress wasn't avoiding him, but just had her hands full, and her skill-level and energy could not compete with the hyper scrawny girl twirling twirling twirling. Fortunately I am patient, calm, and sometimes exceptionally well-mannered. As well as beset by self doubts.


The best time for me to head over to a chachanteng is probably between half past two and four thirty. After the crowd has died down, and with enough time to enjoy a leisurely meal before the crowd starts swelling up again.


Do not get between a hungry Cantonese person and food.
They will stampede right over you. Cow river.
And opening up the gates of hell.
Screaming banshees.


It's cataclysmicly low blood sugar combined and an entirely understandable pressing need to eat. Something. Right. Now. Dammit!


They themselves don't grasp the chemistry of it all, but they are at their most determinedly murderous in the last half hour before their regular lunch or dinner times. That's why bakeries do a booming business between tea-time and closing. A homicidal person has got to snack, see, and naturally presumes that those white people are just casually browsing with no perceived need to buy anything. If necessary, elbow someone and yell for attention. Gotta have that cupcake (紙包蛋糕 'ji bau daan gou') now!
And coffee! Milk tea! Boba drinkie!

Don't mind me, I'm just the middle-aged pipe-smoking white dude observing and analyzing. The outsider with keen eyes and a mental note pad.




In other news, I might end up getting a cell-phone sometime this year. First thing I'll do with it is take lovely still-shots of all of my dictionaries, in various settings. Dictionary and a cup of tea, dictionary on an end table, dictionary at an angle, softly lit. Then I shall send these pictures to people.
Unsolicited dic pics.





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