Thursday, February 10, 2011


For the past week I've been obsessing about food. Now, my loyal readers may scoff at this point, saying "dude, you've been blathering on about food as long as we've known you, what's 'new' about that?"
But the past several days have been somewhat extraordinary in that regard.

Yesterday I gibbered on for several pages about a fish-salad, finally concluding with a recipe for a cracker.

When I got back to my neighborhood, I tried to find red fermented beancurd at the local store.

Really, I should've known better. They don't have that kind of stuff.

No dried fish. No dried oyster. No red fermented tofu.
No bitter melon, no yard-long bean, no loofa, no po-gwa.
They're nice people, but they don't cater to that crowd.

For any of those things, I would have to cross the hill back to Chinatown. Except that the shops in Chinatown would've been closed by then.

What I really wanted to eat was 南乳扣肉 ('naam-yu kau yiuk') - fatty meat chunks braised with garlic, naam-yu, soy, rice wine, and star anise.
What I had instead was 臘味粉 ('laap mei fan') - rice-stick noodles with preserved piggy products. And small green vegetables on the side.

Plus hot sauce.

Half a jar.

Hot sauce is a substitute for a woman at the table.

Life is far too short for ennui.

Food is companionship.

I'm eating less.

It's okay.



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