A MEATBALL OF THE MIND

Woke up with two things floating through my mind: brands of butter, and my brilliant cousin's kid the Hollywood guy. And also the question whether elephants (as are sometimes used in movies) are lactose intolerant, or actually like butter. Not too many Chinese like butter. Unlike melted cheesy goodness, which features on top of some chachanteng dishes which would horrify your doctor, and which I've seen little old couples dig into with great relish, butter does not, to the best of my recollection, show up in anything served in Chinatown. Not even in their version of chicken à la King (雞皇汁 'gai wong jap') over rice.
Which, properly made, starts of with a bechamel.

My landlady, who lives on the groundfloor, obsesses about it.
She's Chinese American. Loves rich buttery goodness.
Yummy French pastries, ooh!

Another thing that floated into my head was 'why peas?' It sometimes seems that some restaurants have seized upon peas as the great splash of vibrant colour to make a dish more visually appealing. A bright textural element that unifies the world. From stewed porkchops on a bed of spaghetti covered in melted yellow cheese to ma po tofu and fish fragrance eggplant, what ties them together is a generous spoonful of cooked peas.
It seems very English of them. I don't understand it.

Something that also struck me is that you don't often see meatballs at a chachanteng. Odd. You'd think that like the Dutch, Pakistanis, and Italians, they would swoon over something so delightfully round and delicious. And potentially cheese-covered (not my style, but okay).

Meatballs in a mustard-sherry sauce, over rice. Mmm.

Yeah, don't tell your doctor about that either.

Unless she's invited for dinner.

Left for a walk after the first cup of coffee, with my oldest Peterson Bulldog in my beak, and meatballs in my head. Looks like it is going to be a gorgeous Spring day. Gotta get a few things done before my workweek, but otherwise not a smudge in the sky.


Need to buy dimsum items later. Some for my landlady, some for the Indonesian Chinese lady in the front apartment, and some for my apartment mate. But that's after lunch.



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