BERRY BERRY PINK

Left early today to get a haircut, visit my bank, and have lunch. All in Chinatown. Two pipes in my pocket: a Dunhill redbark Lovat and a Charatan Supreme between a Dublin and a Zulu in shape. Plus a pouch of tobacco. After my haircut, on the way to my bank, I dodged sundry skeevie jeebies while smoking the Lovat. Then I headed over to a welcome place where they know me, to enjoy 韭菜湯餃 ('gau choi tong gaau'; chive and pork dumplings in soup). Their soup broth is excellent. There's a hint of toasted or fried dried flounder which gives it the necessary savoury echo. Very nice.

One thing I like about that place is that your rarely see any other Caucasians inside, and the specials written on the white board are all in Chinese. That tends to mean that requests for sweet 'n sour pork, General Jor's chicken, and kung pao beef are infrequent, those dishes are not their specialty. And catering to goofy Midwestern food preferences is not something they need to do. Mercifully, there is no cottage cheese on the premises.

There is chilipaste. It's a good substitute for cottage cheese.
And much much better with your dumplings.
Trust me.

The first pipe of the day would have been splendid with some Vietnamese drip-coffee, but sadly there is no secluded courtyard with a corrugated roof over one side of it where one might sit for an hour smoking while enjoying one's beverage on Nob Hill. Or anywhere near to it that I know. It's a severe cultural failing of this city. All over this neck of the woods there are Dutchmen who wish to enjoy the springlike weather in a shelted locale with strong coffee and a pipe. They cannot. They are bereft. They blame the modern era and all the tattooed vegan greeners who have taken over. Oh woe! Is nothing sacred?


Anonymous said...
Regrettably, the hippies of old are now waving Pally flags and their grandchildren are monsters who demand intifada for the world. Tomorrow (Tuesday, March 19th) I head out towards SF’s C’Town for a haircut at a place on Jackson. I am looking forward to HK milk tea and snacks at New Hollywood afterwards.
9:14 PM

A very remarkable coincidence. I had also planned a haircut for today, and I am quite fond of the New Hollywood.


The Dunhill redbark finish (a sandblast with deep crimson staining) is not one of which I am particularly fond. It's a bit bold and vulgar. Unless it's that new dye formulation, which fades to a washed-out sandy pink, and looks remarkably silly.
The finish does not affect the smoke.



One Dutchman. At least one. And maybe only one.
It's an important demographic never-the-less.
My complaint reaches up to heaven.
There must be justice.



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