INSPIRED BY SHRIMP CURRY

The problem with having a Cantonese American female as an apartment mate is that one must step outside to smoke, except on days when she is at work. Normaly she works five days a week, but she scheduled herself a mental health day for today -- there's absolutely nothing wrong with her mental health other than that she lives with a crusty Netherlandish American bachelor -- which meant I had to brave the elements to indulge my evil.

Actually, the other thing wrong with having a Cantonese American female apartment mate is that it cramps my style. No wild orgies with psychadelic light effects and patchouli oil, no group LSD binges, no smoking of reefers, no oiled naked titties and gold body paint.

Intellectually, I miss the world as it was during the sixties, even though I never experienced any of that because I was too young then, and would now probably step outside for my own sanity and to load up a pipe with some Capstan Flake in the blue tin to get the stench of unwashed hippie and The Yellow Submarine out of my nostrils and ears.

I'm rather a man of delicate sensibilities.

Which perfectly explains things like rich hot curries filled with fragments of toasted chilies floating in an assertive coconut milk, lemon grass, ground coriander, and pepper broth.
It's a subtle thing. Can you taste the darkened cumin?
There's also the faintest touch of cinnamon.

Garnish with cilantro and chopped scallion. As well as fried shallots. Serve a nice sambal alongside. Plain white rice, and some strifried stringbeans with garlic and chilipaste, garnished with crumbled roasted peanuts.

It's subtle. Klingon subtle.


My interpretation of subtle means cooking like a colonial. Chilies, garlic, spices. But I prefer plain white rice, because it's the perfect foil. It isn't really a meal without rice.

[Taken from the internet: "Gagh, a delicacy for the Star Trek universe's martial Klingon race, is a glob of worms, usually served live and wriggling, because even Klingons supposedly hate their taste, but love the feeling of convulsing death sliding down their gullets." Yeah, no, dammit that sounds nasty. Was this horrid thing invented by Anglos?]


It was cold today, and my feet hurt. But it didn't rain.
So I actually had great fun whenever I smoked.
A red Virginia blend, slight Perique.



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