PUDGY BRAT WORLD

The dumplings were indeed handmade, but the skins were weak and several of them broke. Such luscious interior fluid! The place was too bright and small for my to lift my plate to my lips. And I really wish the hot sauce had been better. Plus that little white kid having a tantrum may have amused his parents -- oh isn't he precious, the little darling -- but did not add to my or anyone else's eating pleasure.

Still, I enjoyed my meal. Good stuff.
Family-run looks like.

Did I ever indicate, subtly or otherwise, that I am not fond of tourists and their brats? Or just brats in general? Especially white brats. The kids of mah and pah Kettle, as wells as Chad and Janet. Basically anyone who could be a relative of Karen.

Honestly I just don't like people very much.
Alas, the planet is full of them.


Unless you make your own dumplings, you'll have to crawl out of your hole occasionally and associate with screaming brats because that's where dumplings may be found. It adds to the ambience, I've been told.

Also, humans are intimately involved in the production of every single ingredient in the average dumpling. They don't just grow on trees. Sad but true.

Almost everywhere in Chinatown there might be Caucasians with uncontrollable offspring. Some of the white people are very large. Those probably hail from the Deep South or the Midwest. The benefit of lard. And bless their hearts.

We like special people in this city.

And we also like dumplings.

Contradictorily.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================