A GETTING AWAY PLACE

Yesterday evening there were still many people about on Grant Avenue, almost all of them tourists happily exploring and wandering about. They were probably pleased that our weather is not hellishly hot, unlike much of the country. We're experiencing the coldest July since Noah moored the ark, so it's been around sixty degrees most days. More. And less.

My late lunch was a good reminder that getting out of the house is a good idea. Especially if done earlier in the day. Because the restaurant to which I went specializes in claypot rice and is a popular destination for locals wanting comfort food, it gets packed at dinner time.
When I finished there wasn't an empty table in the place.

Like the last time, I told myself to sometime try the Taishan yellow eel (台山黃鱔煲仔飯 'toi saan wong sin pou jai faan') claypot rice. But I ordered salt fish spareribs claypot rice (鹹魚排骨煲仔飯 'haam yü paai gwat pou jai faan') 鹹魚排骨煲仔飯, because the combination of fatty meat and savoury-salty appealed to me at that moment. The first dish mentioned is very Sei Yap (四邑), the second recalls a Hong Kong crowded living quarters residential estates boat dwellers working people fifties and sixties style. The backround chatter, as you would expect, reflected both of those demographic elements, with one table speaking Mandarin and everybody else chattering in Toisaan or Cantonese.

Well, not me, of course. I was eating alone and had no one to chat with.

It struck me that claypot rice is, when you think about it, both self-indulgent and not really suitable for two people on a first or second date. There is no sharing. This is MY claypot rice. Mine! Eat your own! A couple beyond the getting acquainted phase might happily have it in each other's company, maybe splitting some stirfried mustard or cauliflower (炒芥菜，炒菜花 'chaau gai choi, chaau choi faa') because they agree that veggies are good for you.
But did I mention that this is MY claypot rice?
It's my salt fish fatty meat.


The restaurant is probably perfect for slightly Aspy people.


It's a very home-town kind of place. Barely two blocks from the hospital. Remarkably I've never seen any of the people I know from there there. The only other customer I have ever recognized is the Indonesian Chinese fellow who lives near my apartment. We occasionally chat in Mandarin or Malay when we see each other at the bus stop on Van Ness.



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