Nothing like Chinese food for breakfast.
No, I shall not tell this to my doctor. Who is Chinese.
The secret to getting along with people and not being on the receiving end of well-meaning behaviour-correcting speeches is, often, to keep your mouth shut. As a medical professional she'd probably feel duty-bound to tell me about proper nutrition, and as a person of Chinese ancestry she might well have certain very strong opinions about food. To whit: Spicy Chicken In Claypot Flavour Potato Chips are NOT actually Chinese food (well, maybe they are for idiot northerners), and can not possibly ever replace dim sum or congee.
As a bachelor, I'm not very good about breakfast.
But I saw the open bag (with a black binder clip to seal it) in the teevee room, and recognized that it had proven too spicy for my apartment mate, for whom I had bought it, who is also Chinese American (Cantonese) and who is not a great fan of spicy things.
So I decided to take one for the team.
A shame to waste it.
As a Dutch American at home with spicy food, who speaks Indonesian (the language of spicy), as well as a gentlemanly sort of old fossil, I will throw myself on the bayonets of scallions and hot chili (蔥辣椒 'chung laat chiu') so that she does not have to suffer.
It's the least I can do.
Virginias with a touch of Perique and fire-cured leaf in an old Parker are also spicy, so after my first cup of coffee I stepped outside to keep her from being exposed. That, too, was sort of older Dutch American gentlemanly behaviour.
The fact that all three pipes were Parkers just happened rather naturally, but that probably reflects something deep-seated and neurotic.
And probably Dutch American.
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