Tuesday, June 20, 2023


"Come along, little dingus, it's lunch time." "Yeh yeh yeh yeh yeh!" "Noodles!" "Yeh yeh yeh!" "With roast turkey, yau choi, scallions, peanut sauce, and chili paste." "Yeh yeh yeh yeh?" "And a splash of stock to make it soupy." "yay!"

That was the gist of the conversation I had with the turkey vulture, who had been sleeping on my apartment mate's bed. He lives for his food, and dreams of being fed. So the little fellah ended up happy. For some strange reason I cannot fathom, his gustatory preferences encompass both her tastes (no chili at all) and mine (plenty hot).
A cheerful little fellow.

He's enthusiastic, but unrefined.
Not a gourmet, but a gourmand.

Last night he was happily speculating about 'little hamster on buttered toast'.
Which no one here eats and we'd all be horrified by.
The monkey clouted him.
It was, as often happens, the "long arm of righteousness". Which whenever it reaches out to swat upside the head surprises the living bejayzus out of him. He has not as yet wigged on to the fact that some of his appetites are uncivilized. And do not meet our approval.

That roast turkey would have benefitted from some shrimp paste.
And much more of the sambal.

Perhaps tomorrow I shall venture out of the house after lunch. My bout of Covid should definetly be over by then, and I need to restock on some supplies. Plus I've run out of those delightful mango-flavoured fungleisou (鳳梨酥), which both I and Sydney Fylbert (the turkey vulture) think are scrumptious, but my apartment mate is rather apathetic about.

I also need another jar of chili paste.

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