CULTURALLY DISSECTED LUNCH

No jaunt over the hill today. It was too cold, and my feet hurt from work. Soon the time to wear two pairs of socks will be upon us. Well, for me. Probably not for you. As a pipesmoker, on my days off I spend a lot of time in the wild outdoors -- urban San Francisco -- by necessity, as my apartment mate is a non-smoker whose comfort I value (she's reliable and trustworthy, and a joy to live with), whereas the nose-coddling of random pedestrians is NOT my mission in life.
The happiness of my cold-sensitive my feet is.

I'll head over to Chinatown tomorrow. Bank, lunch, long walk with a briar.
Plus I need to do some vegetable shopping.

It may rain. So warmer clothes, and an umbrella. The delightful row of awnings opposite Chinese Hospital were finally taken down, so that that building could be painted, and I'm not sure where there are awnings for shuttered stores without entryways to the flats upstairs (one doesn't want to inconvenience the residents), so it will be sort of a voyage of discovery.
The entryway of Chong Imports on Walter Lum Place is no longer an option; Empress by Boon has put up fencing to keep the riff-raff (people like me) out. But the old Great Star Theater is still largely defunct, and there are one or two places on Washington Street. Plus Waverly is always hospitable even though the Four Seas Restaurant overhang is gone.

There's also the entryway to the Sun Sing Theater, which was a grungy bazaar type place for several years and is now empty and abandoned. The bakery next door is never open.


A very late lunch today. Bami goreng (Indonesian Dutch Chinese fried noodles), with extra ginger. With a mug of strong milk tea to fortify myself for a stroll with a pipe in a short while.
It's gotten colder since running an errand a while earlier, and threatens to drizzle.

The bami goreng was not very good. I've done better. A little too much chili, and the freshly ground black pepper was overkill. I just wasn't particularly inspired. I didn't eat all of it.

Chinatown is a good place to have a pipe. No woken earthmoms to scream that if I just chewed on celery sticks instead it would be so much better for their suburban lungs filthy horrid man.

In Berkeley, they'd make a vegetarian bami goreng, because "meat is murder", and flavour is cultural appropriation. Quinoa noodles, wheatgrass based texture wedges, and turmeric because it ayurvedicly good for you. No fried egg on top. Eggs have souls.
No onion, garlic, or ginger; those excite the bestial instincts.
Frying only with safflower and avocado oils!
Tempeh. To save the planet.
No peanuts!




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