Thursday, April 30, 2015


No, I didn't have anything special. No exquisite example of Cantonese cuisine, hard to find unless you speak the language like a native and know the secret Triad handshake. No snake head in shark fin consomme.
Just a kongsi saammanji: club sandwich.

It was an easy choice, and by sitting near the window I had enough reflective surfaces to observe pedestrians in either direction outside, plus the restaurant staff in all directions inside.
I love reflective surfaces.

There's a big dining room in the back, and a baked goods and take-out counter near the door. Have a full meal, or buy a box of snackipoos.

White guy comes in for coca cola and a sweet roll. Chinese woman buys a donut. Three matrons purchase pork floss buns on the way out. Elderly Chinatown bachelor gets a meal to go, and while waiting peruses the Sing Tao Yat Po. Mandarin-speaking young lady orders a dinner.
Strictly take-out, she'll stand.

I remember her face. And to be perfectly honest, I also remember the shape of her behind. Because it was very nice, and more or less on eye-level.
I had seen her earlier pausing outside, then heading up the block.
Her figure had been quite discernible outside too.
I very much enjoy window seating.
It suits me.

Perhaps she's from somewhere on the East Coast, staying at a hotel. Possibly she came here from Taiwan. Her English might be fluent, but in that place and at that moment that made only two of us, as everyone else was a native speaker of Cantonese.

The white guy couldn't quite make himself understood.
I know the waitress; she's very good.
Maybe he's stupid.

Donut woman would have been hard to ignore: "Ngo yiu ko-go, ah, ko hou-tim ge le woh!"
The three matrons were old school: "you shouldn't buy that, nei hai hou fei ge le!"
'You so fat, dang, it make you go "boom!".'
The bachelor got everything.

He wasn't plump; you don't get that way if you only have one real meal a day, even if it is old fire soup, main course, rice, and three sides, plus lime jello for dessert. He read the entire newspaper while waiting for it to be ready and packed up.

The mandarin speaker examined the entire menu flyer. Asked questions. Then looked rather nicely decorative while waiting for her food without realizing it. Possibly because of her clothing. Baggy exercise pants, loose grey tee-shirt. Nobody expects to look like a hot mama in that outfit, but I may have mentioned that parts of her were at eye-level.
She was healthy, and tastefully built.

I hope her dinner was as good as my club sandwich.
Which was excellent, exactly what I needed.
I added chilipaste to every bite.
Seductively hot.

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