I decided to have the General Tso's Chicken.
It's quite good.
左宗雞
According to Wikipedia, "General Tso's chicken (pronounced [tswò]) is a sweet, piquant, deep-fried chicken dish that is served in North American Chinese restaurants."
This wasn't that. Instead of battered chicken nuggets with a tangy sauce, it consisted of sauteed chicken pieces with fine sliced onion and bellpepper, plus fried dry chilies for earthy spice, lightly pan-sauced.
Not sweet at all.
"Americans" would be most displeased, but Hong Kong Cantonese would find it very satisfying. It is something that bears ordering more often.
The harmony of a violin and a bamboo flute drifted over the park from the area at the playground where the musicians sat, and from my disadvantage point on the other side of the fence -- smoking is strictly forbidden on city property, and offenders will be violated -- the tune was recognizable as one of those wistful pieces about home towns and the sadness of exiles. Which is a theme that runs sodden through over twenty centuries of Chinese poetry and balladeering, seeing as the civilized world was administered by people who left home, and spent lifetimes posted far away.
A city is seldom thought of as a hometown.
Comoy's make pipe, Samuel Gawith's Saint James Flake, a few loonies and old folks in the middle distance. Plus children, tourists, music, and a naked man. Heaven. It just doesn't get any better than this.
The naked man was exercising on the bars.
Sometimes I am glad that me and my fine old fashioned perfume of lovely matured leaf are on the wrong side of the fence. Alone with the sparrows on Walter Lum, looking in instead of out. If the police need someone to arrest, let it be the bronze exhibitionist flexing his butch manly muscles.
His athletic torso would look splendid in the back of a cop car.
Dang, this tobacco is good! The trick is rubbing it out a few days before it is needed, fluffing it up in a jar, and letting the moisture re-distribute itself.
I'm fairly certain that if the little children in the playground had a choice of proximities, me or the naturist, they would prefer to be closer to me and tobacco than to the glistening sweaty person.
General Tso's Bacon. Now that sounds like a fine dish. Battered bacon, deep fried, dolled up with ginger, garlic, soy sauce, rice vinegar, sherry, sugar, sesame oil, scallions, and fried dry chili peppers.
PANANG CURRY AND CLARET
Like me, Kaz probably ate by himself. The reason being that his lovely wife's parents dragged her off to London for a fortnight, where she is having a splendid time with her own pipes and tobacco. A year ago I teased her by mentioning a grape flavoured mixture (the Beta-version of Captain Black Purple), because she went through a childhood spell of liking Aromatics and Cavendishes. As many pipe smokers do.
It's part of the learning curve.
She's now smoking Davidoff Medallions. He's smoking Stonehenge Flake, the rebirth of a previous collaboration of Greg L. Pease and John Gawith. That's two flaky Virginia-Perique concoctions. It would seem that their tastes are hitting the mind-meld stage.
Kaz: "She's in London, so she can deal with my solo house party of Thai, wine, and tobacco!"
End quote.
TST: "I look forward to the first time you go on a trip and leave her home alone, so I can send her absolutely terrifying clown horror movies to watch in the dark house every night."
End quote.
They'd probably also enjoy Union Square or maybe Cumberland (both by Greg Pease), and likely also the Saint James Flake that I've been smoking with great pleasure for the past several weeks, hop-scotching it with the Dunhill flakes.
Methinks they would prefer Panang Curry and Claret, rather than loonies nearby and a shiny nude dude exercising in the sunlight.
But that's just an educated guess.
I know, we'll send the naked clown to South Carolina!
It will be the best of both worlds!
Everybody happy.
TOBACCO INDEX
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5 comments:
NORMAL PEOPLE PREPARING FOR SHABBES?
JEWISH PEOPLE ARE NOT NORMAL!
THEY DO NOT WORSHIP YOSHKE. THEY DO NOT PRAISE YOSHKE. THEY CRUCIFIED YOSHKE.
THAT IS NOT NORMAL.
HOW DARE YOU HAVE THE GALL TO CALL THE JEWISH "NORMAL".
THEY ALSO FLY EVIL ZIONISTIC FLAGS IN PRIDE PARADES.
You're taking the piss, right?
And by the way, it was the Romans who crucified Yoshke.
THE JEWS GAVE HIM TO THE ROMANS. PILATE WAS A NICE MAN WHO DIDN'T WANT TO HARM HIM, BUT THE JEWS SHOUTED: "CRUCIFY HIM!"
There is more than enough reason to not only doubt every part of that story, but also that he even ever existed.
Like much in the good book, it was written by folks with an agenda, and redacted since then.
Note, btw, that there is a wealth of alternative writing that was left out after Nicaea.
PS. The Canon was set in mud by about a generation or so after Nicaea. There were a few minor changes in the four centuries that followed. None of it was written in a modern language.
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