THE MOON AND SPRAYED PAVEMENT

The old fellow was surprised that I ate that kind of stuff, the waitress was still surprised, even though I've done so before. Bitter melon is, apparently, something that white people don't order in Chinese restaurants. The good thing about reading it off the specials in Chinese on the white board, and asking for it in Cantonese, is that waitstaff will not question your order, and will not try to explain that maybe you should reconsider, you might not like it, perhaps you'd like the kung pao cauliflower instead.

Not that they have kung pao cauliflower. That sounds like something the folks in Marin would go for. It's both "Chinese" and cauliflower! Probably great with emperor Ming's Tofu surprise (for which the sauce is red food colouring, chili flakes, minced garlic, cornstarch slurry, plus sugar and vinegar - it's yummaliscious). And fried brown rice. Healthier than fried white rice.

The last time I had fried rice it was salt fish and chicken fried rice (鹹魚雞粒炒飯 'haam yü gai naap chaau faan'). Which is also something not sold in furthest Marin, and no part of that can be replaced by Cauliflower. There is no brown rice version. The restaurants that have that do not have brown rice. Guaranteed.

The Chinese have not gone all ape over replacing everything with cauliflower. That's still strictly a white folks thing. Pizza crust? Mashed cauliflower! Pasta? Mashed cauliflower! Pancakes? Cauliflower! Croutons? Cauliflower! Wheatgrass smoothies? Cauliflower, cauliflower, cauliflower!

I think you should have a soymilk and hazelnut frappucino with that.
It will make you feel spiritual and and healthy.
Add protein powder.

When I got back down to Chinatown again a few hours later the moon was out. A splendid night. Warmish, few loons, and Silver Jubilee by Greg Pease in my pipe. A good forty five minutes of peacefulness. The bookseller's bus was delayed, though, and when he arrived things had started to change. When we left the burger place the karaoke joint was filled with visitors from someplace where singing is the newest art. So we went directly elsewhere, where things were quiet and restrained. Where besides the Jameson's, there is also Guinness on tap. In the middle of Chinatown. Anthony Bourdain on the telly. Okay?

The bars we passed later were also rather slow. Only the karaoke place had been packed. Karaoke is kind of like fly-paper in a way. Or a fresh thing deposited on the pavement.

There were street cleaners hosing the chewing gum and "karaoke" off the sidewalks at the busstop. And hardly anyone on the bus.


Nice.



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