One of the places where I used to go on Stockton Street has, from the looks of it, changed hands. And one wonders at the type of place it will be. It used to be New Honolulu (新檀島咖啡餅店 'san taan tou ka fei bing dim') at 888 Stockton Street; the new name is 新品味 ('san pan mei'), though the English signage remains the same. That entire block is becoming different. Wycen Foods (祥發臘味) a few doors up moved over a year ago from the location of many years. They are presently just around the corner on Clay Street, facing where Hang Ah Alley terminates. Good preserved meats, Canto style. I was glad to see them re open.
The New Honolulu was a typical Hong Kong style chachanteng. Plate lunches, a number of specialty dishes, baked goods very nice, and milk tea. Plus friendly staff and a good albeit quirked ambiance.
It was more or less my kind of place.
They're still remodeling, and have posted no menus or an opening date. All I can tell is the walls are going to be different, and there are interesting light fixtures. Which is not enough to go by.
I keep telling myself that change is good. But I'm kind of pissed off at how many familiar places disappear. And don't get me started on the movie theatres there that no longer exist, or the old school lunch counters, of which there were several.
I do not want to sound like Grandpa Simpson.
I never wore an onion on my belt.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Showing posts with label bachelor chow. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bachelor chow. Show all posts
Monday, November 26, 2018
Sunday, June 17, 2018
PORTUGUESE CURRY CHICKEN RICE
Sometimes cooking is the most therapeutic thing a person can do. Heck, it often is. Last night I fixed myself some baked Portuguese chicken rice like they have in Hong Kong ... but with extra chilies and ginger. And some stewed stalky mustard green ... also with extra chilies and ginger.
Perhaps I overdid the extra chilies and ginger.
But I was cooking for myself.
So, okay.
ARROZ COM FRANGO
[焗葡國雞飯]
Baked Portuguese chicken rice as it is usually made in Hong Kong consists of a foundation of egg-fried rice on top of which partially cooked chicken (such as for instance ripped-up leftover roast chicken) and parboiled potato chunks are placed, Portuguese sauce a la Hong Kong poured over, shredded cheese sprinkled generously on top, grated coconut optional. This composite is put in the oven till hot, then under the broiler till the cheese browns.
Hong Kong style Portuguese sauce ( 葡汁) is a mild coconut curry sauce, not too heavy on the coconut milk or the curry, possibly thinned with a little chicken stock. To make it more Portuguese-y I fried some chunks of chouriço first, then added the spices, roux, and liquids.
If the Portuguese chicken is to be eaten as a meal, the chicken is browned, with some garlic, onion, and carrots all added at the appropriate time.
Then simmered in the sauce.
None of this is really Portuguese, you must understand. It's a Hong Kong working men's restaurant re-interpretation of fusion food from Macao.
As I mentioned, extra chilies and ginger.
It was hearty, and comforting.
I'm up early today.
Very.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Perhaps I overdid the extra chilies and ginger.
But I was cooking for myself.
So, okay.
ARROZ COM FRANGO
[焗葡國雞飯]
Baked Portuguese chicken rice as it is usually made in Hong Kong consists of a foundation of egg-fried rice on top of which partially cooked chicken (such as for instance ripped-up leftover roast chicken) and parboiled potato chunks are placed, Portuguese sauce a la Hong Kong poured over, shredded cheese sprinkled generously on top, grated coconut optional. This composite is put in the oven till hot, then under the broiler till the cheese browns.
Hong Kong style Portuguese sauce ( 葡汁) is a mild coconut curry sauce, not too heavy on the coconut milk or the curry, possibly thinned with a little chicken stock. To make it more Portuguese-y I fried some chunks of chouriço first, then added the spices, roux, and liquids.
If the Portuguese chicken is to be eaten as a meal, the chicken is browned, with some garlic, onion, and carrots all added at the appropriate time.
Then simmered in the sauce.
None of this is really Portuguese, you must understand. It's a Hong Kong working men's restaurant re-interpretation of fusion food from Macao.
As I mentioned, extra chilies and ginger.
It was hearty, and comforting.
I'm up early today.
Very.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sunday, October 29, 2017
WITH A LITTLE WINE
There's a video on the internet of a winsome young lady making the case that meat eaters need to shut up, feel guilty, and admit their sins. The most offensive of which is making her as a Vegan feel very sad.
Yes, interspersed with the usual Peta pictures.
Because carnivores are subhuman.
So unenlightened!
Okay...
Bacon!
Lovely thick applewood-smoked bacon, covered with, heck just drenched in deliquescent melted Cheddar, oozing in a golden cascade all over it. On top of poached gefilte fish quenelles, napped with a Thai coconut green curry sauce, on a bed of halved cherry tomatoes.
I think we can all get behind that, can't we?
Sop up the juices with crusty french bread.
For the second course, a choice of gehakte leber on buttered toast, or lovely tandoori lamb chops with a mint yoghurt dip.
And fresh buttery naan.
Jouw luchtkussenboot zit barstens vol paling, liefje. En het kan mij niets schelen dat je niet van spek houdt ...... Ik zal nooit met een Veganist omgaan of zo'n persoon zelfs uit eten vragen.
I am currently thinking of other sexy things on can do with bacon, many of them involving chilies, rich meats and fish, cheeses, and pasta. And baking with butter.
For instance, egg-fried rice covered with chicken chunks, a few slices of juicy fried linguiça, potatoes, and chilies, liberally augmented with a mild coconut curry sauce, one or two rashers of bacon added, plus a generous sprinkle of cheese, and the whole thing shoved under the broiler till bubbly. A richer version of baked Portuguese chicken rice (焗葡國雞飯 'guk pou gwok gai faan'). Plus of course the Cantonese substitute for salad. That being 蠔油芥蘭 ('hou yau gaai laan'). Because one must have a vegetable. It's good for the digestion.
For some lovely pictures of food, paste the names into image search.
It will bring up lovely, lovely food porn.
Gosh, beautiful.
Crispy-fried bacon strips as a substitute for chips with dips.
Try it with ranch, salsa picante, or guacamole.
Or instead of celery sticks.
Dee-lishus!
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Yes, interspersed with the usual Peta pictures.
Because carnivores are subhuman.
So unenlightened!
Okay...
Bacon!
Lovely thick applewood-smoked bacon, covered with, heck just drenched in deliquescent melted Cheddar, oozing in a golden cascade all over it. On top of poached gefilte fish quenelles, napped with a Thai coconut green curry sauce, on a bed of halved cherry tomatoes.
I think we can all get behind that, can't we?
Sop up the juices with crusty french bread.
For the second course, a choice of gehakte leber on buttered toast, or lovely tandoori lamb chops with a mint yoghurt dip.
And fresh buttery naan.
Jouw luchtkussenboot zit barstens vol paling, liefje. En het kan mij niets schelen dat je niet van spek houdt ...... Ik zal nooit met een Veganist omgaan of zo'n persoon zelfs uit eten vragen.
I am currently thinking of other sexy things on can do with bacon, many of them involving chilies, rich meats and fish, cheeses, and pasta. And baking with butter.
For instance, egg-fried rice covered with chicken chunks, a few slices of juicy fried linguiça, potatoes, and chilies, liberally augmented with a mild coconut curry sauce, one or two rashers of bacon added, plus a generous sprinkle of cheese, and the whole thing shoved under the broiler till bubbly. A richer version of baked Portuguese chicken rice (焗葡國雞飯 'guk pou gwok gai faan'). Plus of course the Cantonese substitute for salad. That being 蠔油芥蘭 ('hou yau gaai laan'). Because one must have a vegetable. It's good for the digestion.
For some lovely pictures of food, paste the names into image search.
It will bring up lovely, lovely food porn.
Gosh, beautiful.
Crispy-fried bacon strips as a substitute for chips with dips.
Try it with ranch, salsa picante, or guacamole.
Or instead of celery sticks.
Dee-lishus!
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Friday, July 07, 2017
THE RICE PLATE SPECIAL
Two scoops rice, macaroni salad, and something with gravy. Or what the Hawaiians call a plate lunch. Don't think Spam. Instead consider chicken katsu with brown gravy, or roast pork with brown gravy, or adobo.
It satisfies the soul. When I worked down in the Financial District I had it a couple of times a month . Not necessarily always from the Hawaiian place, sometimes to-go from the Chinese buffet around the other corner. Fluffy rice, mac salad, and chicken curry or black bean sauce asparagus and chicken (豉椒蘆筍雞 'si jiu lou-suen kai').
There was a woman there with an intelligent round face who always looked vulnerable. During summer her daughter would be near her, probably because there's nowhere to dump a kid when school is out.
She was very nice, and didn't laugh at my Cantonese.
So she was probably from Hong Kong.
Recently I saw an internet poll which asked how people like their rice. It was on a closed site which has only one Asian member, so of course the thirty plus options were a little bit off. I am surprised that the one person whom I know in real life didn't add "galactic over rice" to the list.
As a child, that's what they got from the Chinese take-out.
Beef, chicken, fish, veggies. Anywhichway.
And everything over rice.
As a bachelor, I usually order from the rice plate section of the menu. It's more convenient for the single diner, and you aren't left with little boxes to shlep around while you smoke your pipe afterwards.
At home I often do choi pou faan (菜泡飯), which is soupy rice cooked just right, with some parched vegetables and a little amount of something condimental. Plus a small amount of meat, which is there just for happy. Not a complex dish, but almost infinitely variable.
Choi pou faan is not something you ever see on menus.
It's strictly homestyle, casual eating.
Very comforting.
It's not always solitary food. In my case it is, but it can also be done in a family context, when preparing a full meal would be inconvenient, or not everybody eats at the same time.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
It satisfies the soul. When I worked down in the Financial District I had it a couple of times a month . Not necessarily always from the Hawaiian place, sometimes to-go from the Chinese buffet around the other corner. Fluffy rice, mac salad, and chicken curry or black bean sauce asparagus and chicken (豉椒蘆筍雞 'si jiu lou-suen kai').
There was a woman there with an intelligent round face who always looked vulnerable. During summer her daughter would be near her, probably because there's nowhere to dump a kid when school is out.
She was very nice, and didn't laugh at my Cantonese.
So she was probably from Hong Kong.
Recently I saw an internet poll which asked how people like their rice. It was on a closed site which has only one Asian member, so of course the thirty plus options were a little bit off. I am surprised that the one person whom I know in real life didn't add "galactic over rice" to the list.
As a child, that's what they got from the Chinese take-out.
Beef, chicken, fish, veggies. Anywhichway.
And everything over rice.
As a bachelor, I usually order from the rice plate section of the menu. It's more convenient for the single diner, and you aren't left with little boxes to shlep around while you smoke your pipe afterwards.
At home I often do choi pou faan (菜泡飯), which is soupy rice cooked just right, with some parched vegetables and a little amount of something condimental. Plus a small amount of meat, which is there just for happy. Not a complex dish, but almost infinitely variable.
Choi pou faan is not something you ever see on menus.
It's strictly homestyle, casual eating.
Very comforting.
It's not always solitary food. In my case it is, but it can also be done in a family context, when preparing a full meal would be inconvenient, or not everybody eats at the same time.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, February 08, 2017
DOUBLE YOUR MUSHROOM
While twiddling my toes in soapy water yesterday, I realized that for lunch something different would be nice. This is not a sudden flash of insight, I've actually thought that many times before. Usually while at work, where too often I fall back on convenience store tuna salad sandwiches with a sploodge of chili sauce.
So on my three days off each week, I wish to eat something better.
The only thing that's the same is the presence of chili sauce.
Single men of a certain age and bend require it.
It keeps our eyes bright.
雙菇雞飯
At a chachanteng I perused the menu and placed my order. Only afterwards did I start to read the specials on the wall. The pig stomach with celery (豬肚炒西芹) looked interesting, as did the selection of yummies mentioned directly below it, which all involved fatty pork: 榨菜炒五花腩、尖椒炒五花腩、and two others I do not remember.
I always do that; I order from the regular menu before looking at the special posted at convenient eye-level. Unlike restaurants for white people, where an art-student will chirpily inform you of the pangolin in truffle sauce with a port reduction which the chef recommends today while it lasts, or the sorbet of pickled calf liver on a bed of tender quinoa sprouts with toast points, Chinese restaurants quite logically expect you to read.
Donald Trump would be totally lost there.
[Please note there are terms in this post which perhaps you do not know. Like 'quinoa'.
Explanations might be provided, elsewise your own research will provide answers.
Unless you are Donald. Then you are hopeless.]
The double mushroom chicken rice was truly excellent. But the fatty pork would have been nicer.
PICKLED MUSTARD STIR-FRIED FATTY PORK
榨菜炒五花腩 ('jaa choi chaau ng faa naam')
One pound of five flower pork.
Small amounts of white pepper powder, oyster sauce, and up to half a cup roughly of Szechuanese pressed mustard stem (which is nice and crunchy, and need not be rinsed before use - taste it to judge how much you want in the dish), plus between a teaspoon and a tablespoon of soy sauce, teaspoon or two of cornstarch.
Sherry or rice wine.
Oil.
Slice the pork not too thin, taking care to divide the pieces into fatty bits and lean. Cut the pickled mustard into thick shreds.
Rinse the pork slices, dry, and marinate them with the cornstarch, oyster sauce, and soy sauce. Mix well to distribute the flavours.
Let it sit for half an hour.
Separate out the fatty bits, and fry these a little first. Then add the lean meat, stirfy with the fatty bits. Add the pickled vegetable, toss to mingle, and splash in the sherry or rice wine, plus a little water.
While it seethes sprinkle white pepper over it.
Cook a little bit longer, and plate it.
It is ganz einfach.
GREEN CHILI STIR-FRIED FATTY PORK
尖椒炒五花腩 ('tsim chiu caau ng faa naam')
One pound of five flower pork.
Half a dozen or more big Jalapenos, deseeded, cut, and briefly blanched in boiling water to tone the buggers down a bit. You could also use smaller hotter green chilies, or sweeter milder bellpeppers. And the duration of blanching to lessen the heat effect is also flexible. Or mix it up.
Garlic and ginger as seems appropriate, chopped.
Scallions, sliced.
Salt and oil.
Slice the pork semi-thin. Gild the pork in the pan with a little oil, remove and drain. Add the chopped ginger and garlic to the pan with a little salt, stirfry briefly, cast in the peppers and stirfy. When they start to turn, add the meat, and seethe with a small splash of water. Strew the scallion into the pan, turn over with a spatula a couple of times till the liquid is reduced.
Cant it all onto a plate.
Speed and heat are of the essence.
DOUBLE MUSHROOM CHICKEN
雙菇雞 ('seung gu gai')
About a pound of chicken de-boned cut into small chunks, rinsed, and mixed with beaten egg white and half a tablespoon of cornstarch.
Tree oyster and fresh champignon in equal measure, rinsed and trimmed, sliced thick, more than the amount of chicken. A little chopped yellow onion, somewhat more than that chopped bell pepper.
Very small amounts of garlic and ginger.
A tablespoon of oyster sauce.
A dash of soy sauce.
Pinch of sugar.
Oil.
Briefly gild the garlic and ginger, decant. Same with the onion and bell pepper. Do likewise with the mushroom. Now over high heat stirfry the chicken, splash with water or sherry, add the oyster and soy sauce, and throw in everything else. Stifry till mixed and turn out onto a plate.
It is not complicated.
All three of these dishes are suitable for four people, served with one or two other dishes, soup and rice. And easy enough to prepare that you shouldn't be frustrated. A keen eye for quantities and sound judgment of both heat and speed are important, though.
As one of the other dishes I would suggest stewed bittermelon with a little bacon or fishpaste. Good for you.
The soup, ideally, would be thin chicken and or pork bone broth with watercress. Add a few slices of carrot for a cheerful colour, and one or two slices of ginger.
[Optional additions, for a fuller soup, would be a smoked date or two, a small handful of yellow beans or pearl barley, and some dioscorea opposita (淮山 'waai saan') root.]
Did I mention 'ganz einfach'?
This is ganz einfach.
Trust me.
孤膽英雄食晚飯
Though chachanteng cater to all types, they greatly appeal to people dining by themselves. They're for casual eating rather than refined dining, and the selection of dishes on the typical menu could very well be enjoyed by one person alone. Some are more suited for morning and mid-day, some do their best business in late afternoon and early evening.
All of them have hot Hong Kong style milk-tea.
Which is a pick-me upper.
Yesterday there were five other single men dining there, and a small family (one child). Quite possibly I was the only person not scanning my text messages, almost certainly the only Luddite without a cell phone, and quite definitely the only Caucasian; most white people cannot make sense of the menu, as it isn't what they expect Chinese to be. Yes, they do have lemon chicken, and kungpao, but so much else is different.
It was very quiet. There was no background music.
Most of us dined in solitude.
A contemplative smoke afterwards while darkness fell.
Alleyways, corners, and past the park.
Then night and rain.
POST SCRIPTUM
A friend in Shanghai recently posted photos of eel and pork kidney noodle soup (鱓絲腰花麵 'sin si yiu faa min'), which is very Shanghai - Jiangsu - Anhui, and a dish which one would also associate with some place like Hangzhou. It looked quite yummy! There is no place in Chinatown that serves it, so I shall have to research the recipe and make it myself. Dutchmen and Flemings, people like me, are eel lovers.
And kidney flowers, well, delicious.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
So on my three days off each week, I wish to eat something better.
The only thing that's the same is the presence of chili sauce.
Single men of a certain age and bend require it.
It keeps our eyes bright.
雙菇雞飯
At a chachanteng I perused the menu and placed my order. Only afterwards did I start to read the specials on the wall. The pig stomach with celery (豬肚炒西芹) looked interesting, as did the selection of yummies mentioned directly below it, which all involved fatty pork: 榨菜炒五花腩、尖椒炒五花腩、and two others I do not remember.
I always do that; I order from the regular menu before looking at the special posted at convenient eye-level. Unlike restaurants for white people, where an art-student will chirpily inform you of the pangolin in truffle sauce with a port reduction which the chef recommends today while it lasts, or the sorbet of pickled calf liver on a bed of tender quinoa sprouts with toast points, Chinese restaurants quite logically expect you to read.
Donald Trump would be totally lost there.
[Please note there are terms in this post which perhaps you do not know. Like 'quinoa'.
Explanations might be provided, elsewise your own research will provide answers.
Unless you are Donald. Then you are hopeless.]
The double mushroom chicken rice was truly excellent. But the fatty pork would have been nicer.
PICKLED MUSTARD STIR-FRIED FATTY PORK
榨菜炒五花腩 ('jaa choi chaau ng faa naam')
One pound of five flower pork.
Small amounts of white pepper powder, oyster sauce, and up to half a cup roughly of Szechuanese pressed mustard stem (which is nice and crunchy, and need not be rinsed before use - taste it to judge how much you want in the dish), plus between a teaspoon and a tablespoon of soy sauce, teaspoon or two of cornstarch.
Sherry or rice wine.
Oil.
Slice the pork not too thin, taking care to divide the pieces into fatty bits and lean. Cut the pickled mustard into thick shreds.
Rinse the pork slices, dry, and marinate them with the cornstarch, oyster sauce, and soy sauce. Mix well to distribute the flavours.
Let it sit for half an hour.
Separate out the fatty bits, and fry these a little first. Then add the lean meat, stirfy with the fatty bits. Add the pickled vegetable, toss to mingle, and splash in the sherry or rice wine, plus a little water.
While it seethes sprinkle white pepper over it.
Cook a little bit longer, and plate it.
It is ganz einfach.
GREEN CHILI STIR-FRIED FATTY PORK
尖椒炒五花腩 ('tsim chiu caau ng faa naam')
One pound of five flower pork.
Half a dozen or more big Jalapenos, deseeded, cut, and briefly blanched in boiling water to tone the buggers down a bit. You could also use smaller hotter green chilies, or sweeter milder bellpeppers. And the duration of blanching to lessen the heat effect is also flexible. Or mix it up.
Garlic and ginger as seems appropriate, chopped.
Scallions, sliced.
Salt and oil.
Slice the pork semi-thin. Gild the pork in the pan with a little oil, remove and drain. Add the chopped ginger and garlic to the pan with a little salt, stirfry briefly, cast in the peppers and stirfy. When they start to turn, add the meat, and seethe with a small splash of water. Strew the scallion into the pan, turn over with a spatula a couple of times till the liquid is reduced.
Cant it all onto a plate.
Speed and heat are of the essence.
DOUBLE MUSHROOM CHICKEN
雙菇雞 ('seung gu gai')
About a pound of chicken de-boned cut into small chunks, rinsed, and mixed with beaten egg white and half a tablespoon of cornstarch.
Tree oyster and fresh champignon in equal measure, rinsed and trimmed, sliced thick, more than the amount of chicken. A little chopped yellow onion, somewhat more than that chopped bell pepper.
Very small amounts of garlic and ginger.
A tablespoon of oyster sauce.
A dash of soy sauce.
Pinch of sugar.
Oil.
Briefly gild the garlic and ginger, decant. Same with the onion and bell pepper. Do likewise with the mushroom. Now over high heat stirfry the chicken, splash with water or sherry, add the oyster and soy sauce, and throw in everything else. Stifry till mixed and turn out onto a plate.
It is not complicated.
All three of these dishes are suitable for four people, served with one or two other dishes, soup and rice. And easy enough to prepare that you shouldn't be frustrated. A keen eye for quantities and sound judgment of both heat and speed are important, though.
As one of the other dishes I would suggest stewed bittermelon with a little bacon or fishpaste. Good for you.
The soup, ideally, would be thin chicken and or pork bone broth with watercress. Add a few slices of carrot for a cheerful colour, and one or two slices of ginger.
[Optional additions, for a fuller soup, would be a smoked date or two, a small handful of yellow beans or pearl barley, and some dioscorea opposita (淮山 'waai saan') root.]
Did I mention 'ganz einfach'?
This is ganz einfach.
Trust me.
孤膽英雄食晚飯
Though chachanteng cater to all types, they greatly appeal to people dining by themselves. They're for casual eating rather than refined dining, and the selection of dishes on the typical menu could very well be enjoyed by one person alone. Some are more suited for morning and mid-day, some do their best business in late afternoon and early evening.
All of them have hot Hong Kong style milk-tea.
Which is a pick-me upper.
Yesterday there were five other single men dining there, and a small family (one child). Quite possibly I was the only person not scanning my text messages, almost certainly the only Luddite without a cell phone, and quite definitely the only Caucasian; most white people cannot make sense of the menu, as it isn't what they expect Chinese to be. Yes, they do have lemon chicken, and kungpao, but so much else is different.
It was very quiet. There was no background music.
Most of us dined in solitude.
A contemplative smoke afterwards while darkness fell.
Alleyways, corners, and past the park.
Then night and rain.
POST SCRIPTUM
A friend in Shanghai recently posted photos of eel and pork kidney noodle soup (鱓絲腰花麵 'sin si yiu faa min'), which is very Shanghai - Jiangsu - Anhui, and a dish which one would also associate with some place like Hangzhou. It looked quite yummy! There is no place in Chinatown that serves it, so I shall have to research the recipe and make it myself. Dutchmen and Flemings, people like me, are eel lovers.
And kidney flowers, well, delicious.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Thursday, January 05, 2017
GRUNTLEMENT!
When I arrived there was only one other table there. An elderly couple were sharing some fried river noodles, nearing the end of their repast.
I sat down in the back with a good view of the entire restaurant and quickly ordered baked Portuguese chicken rice and a milk tea. Having spent most of the afternoon either reading or bathing, I was relaxed, refreshed, and ravenous.
Baked Portuguese chicken rice is comfort food, especially on a rainy day.
I had toyed with the idea of requesting that they dump the chicken and sauce over French fries instead, but decided that my Cantonese was almost certainly not good enough to communicate that idea.
Still, one of these days.
[Fried river noodles: 炒粉 ('chaau fan'), utilizing broad rice stick noodles (河粉 'ho fan') with ginger, scallion, soy sauce, and beef slivers, stir-fried. Baked Portuguese chicken rice: 焗葡國雞飯 ('guk pou gwok gai faan'), a layer of egg-fried rice with chicken and potatoes covered with mild coconut-milk curry sauce, a sprinkle of cheese, and (not always) some shredded coconut strewn over, heated under the broiler till bubbly. French fries: 薯條 ('sue tiu').]
By the time my order came it had filled up a little more. There was a very neat young lady with spectacles four tables over, a trim Hong Kong type two tables across, and a table with middle-aged ladies a little further away. A white couple with eccentric hair, young, and accompanied by a durian. Also two working men, and a table full of Mandarin speaking women.
The very neat young lady with spectacles ordered wontons in broth.
The trim Hong Kong type had wonton noodle soup.
No, I don't know what the white couple with the durian ordered, nor what the middle-aged ladies or the Mandarin speakers got.
Too far away to understand.
[To clarify, I had not actually heard what the bespectacled miss with the long ponytail OR the HK person said, but some things are recognizable from a distance. Especially when they are being eaten.]
Neat miss Spectacles experimented with chili paste once her bowl was in front of her. The Hong Kong person paused to photograph her food.
The elderly couple packed their leftovers and departed.
There is something hypnotic about elegant fingers manipulating rigid plastic shafts to pick up small dumplings, either thoughtfully dipping the food in the condiment saucer for a smear or crimson chili, or (HK person) shoveling it in with gusto. The neat person scrolled through her messages while eating. The HK woman added tonnes more sugar to her lemon tea, then asked the waitress for more lemon.
[Lemon tea: 香港凍檸茶 ('heung gong tung ning chaa') or simply 檸檬茶 ('ning mung chaa'). Strong tea, simple syrup, multiple slices of lemon (four to six), and ice. Very refreshing during warm weather, but obviously also good on rainy days in winter. Served in a tall glass with a long spoon for pressing the lemon slices, and a straw. To make, use Liptons yellow label tea bags.]
What the white couple with the hair had I could not see, but thankfully it would not involve the durian, which was still whole off to the side.
Nor do I know if their fingers were elegant.
I suspect not, but that's just a glib and superficial snap-judgment.
That hair, you know, and certain other details.
We all have our own comfort foods.
The neat woman has wonton.
Others like noodles.
Or lemon tea.
I don't think the durian qualifies as comfort food, but fortunately I finished before they did anything with it. Perhaps it was never put into play. They'll open it up once they get back to the hotel, and it will negatively influence the dreams of everybody else on that floor.
THE FUZZY BITS
I wandered around near the park in the rain after leaving, shielding my lit pipe with my umbrella. At one point I noticed a little girl in the back of a restaurant across the street, playing with a white bunny and a pink teddy bear. All three of them sat at a table, she served them.
I approve; everyone needs stuffed animals.
Even grown-ups. I have several.
They're fond of tea too.
And cookies.
I'm fairly sure they don't like durian.
But I don't really know.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
I sat down in the back with a good view of the entire restaurant and quickly ordered baked Portuguese chicken rice and a milk tea. Having spent most of the afternoon either reading or bathing, I was relaxed, refreshed, and ravenous.
Baked Portuguese chicken rice is comfort food, especially on a rainy day.
I had toyed with the idea of requesting that they dump the chicken and sauce over French fries instead, but decided that my Cantonese was almost certainly not good enough to communicate that idea.
Still, one of these days.
[Fried river noodles: 炒粉 ('chaau fan'), utilizing broad rice stick noodles (河粉 'ho fan') with ginger, scallion, soy sauce, and beef slivers, stir-fried. Baked Portuguese chicken rice: 焗葡國雞飯 ('guk pou gwok gai faan'), a layer of egg-fried rice with chicken and potatoes covered with mild coconut-milk curry sauce, a sprinkle of cheese, and (not always) some shredded coconut strewn over, heated under the broiler till bubbly. French fries: 薯條 ('sue tiu').]
By the time my order came it had filled up a little more. There was a very neat young lady with spectacles four tables over, a trim Hong Kong type two tables across, and a table with middle-aged ladies a little further away. A white couple with eccentric hair, young, and accompanied by a durian. Also two working men, and a table full of Mandarin speaking women.
The very neat young lady with spectacles ordered wontons in broth.
The trim Hong Kong type had wonton noodle soup.
No, I don't know what the white couple with the durian ordered, nor what the middle-aged ladies or the Mandarin speakers got.
Too far away to understand.
[To clarify, I had not actually heard what the bespectacled miss with the long ponytail OR the HK person said, but some things are recognizable from a distance. Especially when they are being eaten.]
Neat miss Spectacles experimented with chili paste once her bowl was in front of her. The Hong Kong person paused to photograph her food.
The elderly couple packed their leftovers and departed.
There is something hypnotic about elegant fingers manipulating rigid plastic shafts to pick up small dumplings, either thoughtfully dipping the food in the condiment saucer for a smear or crimson chili, or (HK person) shoveling it in with gusto. The neat person scrolled through her messages while eating. The HK woman added tonnes more sugar to her lemon tea, then asked the waitress for more lemon.
[Lemon tea: 香港凍檸茶 ('heung gong tung ning chaa') or simply 檸檬茶 ('ning mung chaa'). Strong tea, simple syrup, multiple slices of lemon (four to six), and ice. Very refreshing during warm weather, but obviously also good on rainy days in winter. Served in a tall glass with a long spoon for pressing the lemon slices, and a straw. To make, use Liptons yellow label tea bags.]
What the white couple with the hair had I could not see, but thankfully it would not involve the durian, which was still whole off to the side.
Nor do I know if their fingers were elegant.
I suspect not, but that's just a glib and superficial snap-judgment.
That hair, you know, and certain other details.
We all have our own comfort foods.
The neat woman has wonton.
Others like noodles.
Or lemon tea.
I don't think the durian qualifies as comfort food, but fortunately I finished before they did anything with it. Perhaps it was never put into play. They'll open it up once they get back to the hotel, and it will negatively influence the dreams of everybody else on that floor.
THE FUZZY BITS
I wandered around near the park in the rain after leaving, shielding my lit pipe with my umbrella. At one point I noticed a little girl in the back of a restaurant across the street, playing with a white bunny and a pink teddy bear. All three of them sat at a table, she served them.
I approve; everyone needs stuffed animals.
Even grown-ups. I have several.
They're fond of tea too.
And cookies.
I'm fairly sure they don't like durian.
But I don't really know.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, December 07, 2016
FEEDING THE RARE CRESTED COOT
There are two dishes that say "comfort food" to the male Dutch American middle-aged pipe-smoking bachelor like nothing else. And by "male Dutch American middle-aged pipe-smoking bachelor" is meant a specific subset; an ethnic minority of monumentally small proportion, dammit we need protected status, AND we're a work of art.
The problem is that, like male spiders, the male Dutch American middle-aged pipe-smoking bachelor has risky and even suicidal tendencies.
My grandfather got married in his fifties after heading to France as a pilot during World War One. He died over eighty years ago. My own father joined up with the Royal Canadian Airforce and spent nearly three years bombing Europe during World War Two, got married in his early thirties, moved to Holland and promptly passed away forty years later.
So you see. There are limitations on the tribe.
Marriage and military aircraft.
One of those two.
HOT AND SOOTHING SCRUMPTY!
Anyhow, the two dishes are Baked Portuguese Chicken Rice (焗葡國雞飯 'guk pou-gwok gai faan') and Penang-style Hokkien Mee (檳城福建蝦麵 'ban-seng fuk-gin haa min').
加葡汁！
Alas, the last time I ate Baked Portuguese Chicken Rice it was utterly disappointing. Ideally it consists of egg-fried rice topped with chicken and potato chunks, optionally with an inclusion of either bellpepper or perhaps jalapeño, doused in Portuguese sauce (a mild coconut curry slurry), grated cheddar cheese and coconut shreds sprinkled over, and shoved under the broiler for ten minutes to brown a bit on top and get hot all the way through.
Add salt and pepper to taste, and have some hot chilipaste on the side to zap up every other bite or so. Delicious.
One place in Chinatown which does Baked Portuguese Chicken Rice adds large chunks of onion plus canned mushrooms to the mix, which is horrible anathema, and another chachanteng seems to have recently replaced the mild coconut curry slurry with an entirely uninspired bland whitish starchy liquid ("white sauce"), which indicates that instead of a decent chef of Hong Kong provenance, they've hired a farmer.
It was that second version I had the last time.
I dare not go to the place where they probably still do an excellent version, because the last time I was there the waitress was mighty keen to introduce me to a single friend of hers, why the two of us would make a lovely couple, that woman would be ideal for me!
It's been about ten months.
I am still scared.
I do not think I am ideal. And I could just imagine the disappointment all around. It would have been excruciating for three people.
See, that's one of my 'talents'. I can provide enough excruciation for a plurality. It's quite remarkable.
蝦湯麵
The other dish is an intense noodle soup that utilizes a huge quantity of shrimp heads (蝦頭 'haa tau') for the broth, simmered for hours until deeply and passionately prawny.
It is strained, augmented with a dollop of garlicky chili paste and a little sugar, then dished up with thin noodles (I usually use typical Chinese egg noodles), fresh prawns, and a little vegetable matter for crunch and colour, plus cooked sliced lean pork, or short ribs (quite of course I use fatty pork instead). This marvelous concoction is NOT available in Chinatown; as the name ("Hokkien Mee" 福建麵 'fuk gin min') shows; it isn't Cantonese but Fujianese, specifically from Amoy (厦門 'haa mun', Xiamen), and most particularly the version made in Penang (檳榔嶼 'pan long yiu').
Chinatown folks are mostly Cantonese .....
"Prawn concentrate?!?"
"Cooked chilipaste?!?"
"Added to the soup?!?"
"How utterly FOREIGN, it sounds inedible!"
I cannot say that the Cantonese would be repulsed by it, but this just isn't a concept that they would naturally come up with, nor would conceive of as being a treat.
They've got their own comfort zone.
It's different.
AFTERWORD
Triggerwarning: a few sentences in this post may not be meant entirely at face value. If you cannot read with tongue at least partially in cheek, please come back some other time.
I realize I have to say this; some people are sensitive.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
The problem is that, like male spiders, the male Dutch American middle-aged pipe-smoking bachelor has risky and even suicidal tendencies.
My grandfather got married in his fifties after heading to France as a pilot during World War One. He died over eighty years ago. My own father joined up with the Royal Canadian Airforce and spent nearly three years bombing Europe during World War Two, got married in his early thirties, moved to Holland and promptly passed away forty years later.
So you see. There are limitations on the tribe.
Marriage and military aircraft.
One of those two.
HOT AND SOOTHING SCRUMPTY!
Anyhow, the two dishes are Baked Portuguese Chicken Rice (焗葡國雞飯 'guk pou-gwok gai faan') and Penang-style Hokkien Mee (檳城福建蝦麵 'ban-seng fuk-gin haa min').
加葡汁！
Alas, the last time I ate Baked Portuguese Chicken Rice it was utterly disappointing. Ideally it consists of egg-fried rice topped with chicken and potato chunks, optionally with an inclusion of either bellpepper or perhaps jalapeño, doused in Portuguese sauce (a mild coconut curry slurry), grated cheddar cheese and coconut shreds sprinkled over, and shoved under the broiler for ten minutes to brown a bit on top and get hot all the way through.
Add salt and pepper to taste, and have some hot chilipaste on the side to zap up every other bite or so. Delicious.
One place in Chinatown which does Baked Portuguese Chicken Rice adds large chunks of onion plus canned mushrooms to the mix, which is horrible anathema, and another chachanteng seems to have recently replaced the mild coconut curry slurry with an entirely uninspired bland whitish starchy liquid ("white sauce"), which indicates that instead of a decent chef of Hong Kong provenance, they've hired a farmer.
It was that second version I had the last time.
I dare not go to the place where they probably still do an excellent version, because the last time I was there the waitress was mighty keen to introduce me to a single friend of hers, why the two of us would make a lovely couple, that woman would be ideal for me!
It's been about ten months.
I am still scared.
I do not think I am ideal. And I could just imagine the disappointment all around. It would have been excruciating for three people.
See, that's one of my 'talents'. I can provide enough excruciation for a plurality. It's quite remarkable.
蝦湯麵
The other dish is an intense noodle soup that utilizes a huge quantity of shrimp heads (蝦頭 'haa tau') for the broth, simmered for hours until deeply and passionately prawny.
It is strained, augmented with a dollop of garlicky chili paste and a little sugar, then dished up with thin noodles (I usually use typical Chinese egg noodles), fresh prawns, and a little vegetable matter for crunch and colour, plus cooked sliced lean pork, or short ribs (quite of course I use fatty pork instead). This marvelous concoction is NOT available in Chinatown; as the name ("Hokkien Mee" 福建麵 'fuk gin min') shows; it isn't Cantonese but Fujianese, specifically from Amoy (厦門 'haa mun', Xiamen), and most particularly the version made in Penang (檳榔嶼 'pan long yiu').
Chinatown folks are mostly Cantonese .....
"Prawn concentrate?!?"
"Cooked chilipaste?!?"
"Added to the soup?!?"
"How utterly FOREIGN, it sounds inedible!"
I cannot say that the Cantonese would be repulsed by it, but this just isn't a concept that they would naturally come up with, nor would conceive of as being a treat.
They've got their own comfort zone.
It's different.
AFTERWORD
Triggerwarning: a few sentences in this post may not be meant entirely at face value. If you cannot read with tongue at least partially in cheek, please come back some other time.
I realize I have to say this; some people are sensitive.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Monday, October 24, 2016
STILL LIFE WITH A PLATE
Two of my Facebook friends, whom I actually also know in real life, vie for the title of most scrumptious food picture poster. Which is very irritating.
They both eat very well, and I like their food.
But I do not eat like that.
They both eat with someone else. One is married to a lovely companion, the other goes out late in the evening with buxom drag queens.
I eat by myself. On my days off I go to places in Chinatown and either listen-in on other people's lives -- as a Cantonese-speaking kwailo I can do that -- or I just observe people. Ninety nine point oompty percent of the time it's alone. My apartment-mate does not eat at the same time as I do, we cook separate meals, and tend to occupy the common areas at different hours. We share comestibles (cheese, cookies, icecream, bacon, eggs, etcetera), but by any measure that is not the same as eating together.
It makes me envious that someone so shy as my apartment mate should actually eat as socially as she does, whereas the social person (which is me, I am a veritable butterfly dammit) eats by himself virtually all the time.
She has events with relatives, co-workers, and her boyfriend. Plus old schoolmates, and friends from former jobs.
The full gamut, in fact.
If it weren't for the cheap lunch counters, tea restaurants, dim sum places, bakeries, coffeeshops, and roast meat restaurants, in Chinatown, I would probably go crazy.
I think tomorrow I shall head out in the middle of the afternoon and have either roast duck, or baked Portuguese chicken rice. Either siu-mei at the place with all the windows, or a chachanteng classic while watching the passers-by on the street.
Then I'll go find an awning or abandoned doorway where I might shelter from the rain while smoking a pipe afterwards.
You humans look delicious when wet.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
They both eat very well, and I like their food.
But I do not eat like that.
They both eat with someone else. One is married to a lovely companion, the other goes out late in the evening with buxom drag queens.
I eat by myself. On my days off I go to places in Chinatown and either listen-in on other people's lives -- as a Cantonese-speaking kwailo I can do that -- or I just observe people. Ninety nine point oompty percent of the time it's alone. My apartment-mate does not eat at the same time as I do, we cook separate meals, and tend to occupy the common areas at different hours. We share comestibles (cheese, cookies, icecream, bacon, eggs, etcetera), but by any measure that is not the same as eating together.
It makes me envious that someone so shy as my apartment mate should actually eat as socially as she does, whereas the social person (which is me, I am a veritable butterfly dammit) eats by himself virtually all the time.
She has events with relatives, co-workers, and her boyfriend. Plus old schoolmates, and friends from former jobs.
The full gamut, in fact.
If it weren't for the cheap lunch counters, tea restaurants, dim sum places, bakeries, coffeeshops, and roast meat restaurants, in Chinatown, I would probably go crazy.
I think tomorrow I shall head out in the middle of the afternoon and have either roast duck, or baked Portuguese chicken rice. Either siu-mei at the place with all the windows, or a chachanteng classic while watching the passers-by on the street.
Then I'll go find an awning or abandoned doorway where I might shelter from the rain while smoking a pipe afterwards.
You humans look delicious when wet.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, August 24, 2016
DO YOUR EARS HURT AFTER SAYING THAT?
The first time I heard Shanghainese being spoken, I thought it was Russians talking Japanese. Then I saw the speakers, and became convinced they were Japanese talking Russian.
And swearing in Tungusic.
Shanghainese is not a mellifluous language.
If there are Shanghainese in the restaurant, it is best to sit at the opposite end of the room from them. Or at least six tables away. You will still be able to "enjoy" their conversation from that distance.
My table was next to theirs.
After nearly jumping out of my seat the first few times one of them said something, I started observing them out of the corners of my eyes. Not only for the forewarning, but also to see how they acted toward each other. It became apparent that despite the snarling and growling they were not only on very good terms, but actually fond of each other. Shanghainese can at times sound like a death-battle between infuriated soda water siphons, so you really do need to look at the people making those sounds in order to figure out whether it's an argument about Donald Trump, OR the gentle kissing of two butterflies drifting languorously around the same red, red rose.
I really wanted to listen in on the four Cantonese-speaking old ladies across the way -- they were noshing on seafood, a bright green vegetable, and noodles -- but the Shanghainese were between me and them.
I do not understand the Shanghainese language.
What I did notice was that the old gentleman ate very elegantly. His mastery of chopsticks, the grace with which he wielded them, and the sheer temperance of his motions, were at complete odds with the reptile space alien snarls coming out of his mouth. The famous actress Maggie Cheung (張曼玉 'cheung maan yuk') speaks Shanghainese, but thank heavens almost every word she has ever said on-screen has been in Cantonese. She never sounded like a daemon was trying to claw its way out of her thorax.
By contrast, all of the more southerly tongues I have been exposed to sound sweeter. Toishanese, Hokkien, Teochew, Hoilam; they are all lovable distant relatives of Cantonese. By no means entirely intelligible.....
But altogether more like a civilized human tongue.
Most Mandarin still sounds like crap, though.
I'm just sayin'.
POST SCRIPTUM
Shan't mention which cha-chanteng it was. That is for you to figure out. One of the waitresses has a face that reflects an innocent world-weary wickedness. I'm guessing her kids did that to her. It's attractive, like all faces which show intelligence. Her two co-workers are prettier, but just aren't nearly as attractive. She's the one with the brains.
Baked Portuguese chicken rice with splurks and squoodles of Sriracha chili sauce, a hot cup of yuen-yeung, and afterwards a walk down to the park to see the parrots. Followed by framboise-truffe ice-cream when I got home.
If your freezer does not have ice-cream, you're doing it wrong.
One of the other customers was an old gentleman with a very young girlfriend; he's well over seventy, she's only in her forties. We recognized each other as he was leaving. Nei ho, nei ho. Friendly nods.
I know him from another place that has milk-tea.
They're a sweet half-old couple.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
And swearing in Tungusic.
Shanghainese is not a mellifluous language.
If there are Shanghainese in the restaurant, it is best to sit at the opposite end of the room from them. Or at least six tables away. You will still be able to "enjoy" their conversation from that distance.
My table was next to theirs.
After nearly jumping out of my seat the first few times one of them said something, I started observing them out of the corners of my eyes. Not only for the forewarning, but also to see how they acted toward each other. It became apparent that despite the snarling and growling they were not only on very good terms, but actually fond of each other. Shanghainese can at times sound like a death-battle between infuriated soda water siphons, so you really do need to look at the people making those sounds in order to figure out whether it's an argument about Donald Trump, OR the gentle kissing of two butterflies drifting languorously around the same red, red rose.
I really wanted to listen in on the four Cantonese-speaking old ladies across the way -- they were noshing on seafood, a bright green vegetable, and noodles -- but the Shanghainese were between me and them.
I do not understand the Shanghainese language.
What I did notice was that the old gentleman ate very elegantly. His mastery of chopsticks, the grace with which he wielded them, and the sheer temperance of his motions, were at complete odds with the reptile space alien snarls coming out of his mouth. The famous actress Maggie Cheung (張曼玉 'cheung maan yuk') speaks Shanghainese, but thank heavens almost every word she has ever said on-screen has been in Cantonese. She never sounded like a daemon was trying to claw its way out of her thorax.
By contrast, all of the more southerly tongues I have been exposed to sound sweeter. Toishanese, Hokkien, Teochew, Hoilam; they are all lovable distant relatives of Cantonese. By no means entirely intelligible.....
But altogether more like a civilized human tongue.
Most Mandarin still sounds like crap, though.
I'm just sayin'.
POST SCRIPTUM
Shan't mention which cha-chanteng it was. That is for you to figure out. One of the waitresses has a face that reflects an innocent world-weary wickedness. I'm guessing her kids did that to her. It's attractive, like all faces which show intelligence. Her two co-workers are prettier, but just aren't nearly as attractive. She's the one with the brains.
Baked Portuguese chicken rice with splurks and squoodles of Sriracha chili sauce, a hot cup of yuen-yeung, and afterwards a walk down to the park to see the parrots. Followed by framboise-truffe ice-cream when I got home.
If your freezer does not have ice-cream, you're doing it wrong.
One of the other customers was an old gentleman with a very young girlfriend; he's well over seventy, she's only in her forties. We recognized each other as he was leaving. Nei ho, nei ho. Friendly nods.
I know him from another place that has milk-tea.
They're a sweet half-old couple.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Saturday, January 23, 2016
MIDDLE AGED WHITE GUY FLUSTERS CHINESE WAITRESS
It was quite unfair, and I'm very sorry. Her Cantonese and mine were at different levels, and as I was the customer, it put her at a disadvantage.
And I had no business speaking Cantonese in the first place.
But I did. In such environments, I always do.
It gets me what I want.
Usually.
Now, you need to know that 涼 ('leung'; "cool") and 兩 ('leung'; two of something) sound nearly the same. And that bittermelon is commonly called 苦瓜 ('fu gwaa') in Chinatown Cantonese. Which is why one restaurant changed the names of several of their dishes. They call it 苦瓜 ('fu gwaa'), their customers also call it 苦瓜, and almost no one except menu writers and Dutchmen call it 涼瓜 ('leung gwaa').
Elsewhere, it still shows up as 涼瓜.
I had finished my shopping, but had not actually eaten anything yet, and it was dinner time. So, being curious as to whether they also did baked Portuguese chicken rice -- which I wasn't planning to order, but I just wanted to check -- I went in and avidly studied the menu.
What I ordered was 涼瓜斑球飯，同埋一杯港式奶茶，唔該。Bitter melon and fish chunks over rice, and a cup of Hong Kong style milk-tea, if you please ('leung gwaa pan kau faan, tong mai yat pui gong sik naai chaa, m-koi')
Oh boy, dinner was going to be good!
I waited with eager anticipation.
Oh boy oh boy oh boy!
What I got was TWO plates of fish and some kind of vegetable over rice. It turns out that she heard 兩 when I said 涼 and was too flustered to ask for clarification but instead nervously construed amiss.
I have no idea what she took 瓜 to mean.
No bitter melon.
I explained that 'leung gwaa' meant the same as foo gwar. Fu gwaa. Yat yeung ge, hai m-hai. On their menu it says leung gwaa, but that means fu gwaa. And there's only one of me, not two. She looked crestfallen.
I told her I would eat one of the servings anyhow.
But just one.
[Leung: 涼 = three dots water (氵) and the false phonetic element 京 。
Cool, cold. Because that is its effect on the body. 苦 = Fu; bitter.]
The owners are mainlanders, I believe, and she is probably a locally born relative given a part-time job to earn money for college. Just guessing.
But she speaks English entirely without accent.
I'm fairly certain that she would have to pay for her mistake.
I left a more than seventy percent tip.
If I go there a few more times during her shifts, it will even out, and she'll end up ahead. Next time I'll have to bring a small notepad, however, because she may never have heard of 焗豬扒飯 ('guk chü paa faan') before. It's very Hong Kong, and not at all Chinatown.
I'll have to write it down.
The benefit of this plan for me is that I like the place, I've always liked cha-chanteng. Plus each table has a bottle of Sriracha.
And the young lady is nice to look at.
That adds sweetness.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
And I had no business speaking Cantonese in the first place.
But I did. In such environments, I always do.
It gets me what I want.
Usually.
Now, you need to know that 涼 ('leung'; "cool") and 兩 ('leung'; two of something) sound nearly the same. And that bittermelon is commonly called 苦瓜 ('fu gwaa') in Chinatown Cantonese. Which is why one restaurant changed the names of several of their dishes. They call it 苦瓜 ('fu gwaa'), their customers also call it 苦瓜, and almost no one except menu writers and Dutchmen call it 涼瓜 ('leung gwaa').
Elsewhere, it still shows up as 涼瓜.
I had finished my shopping, but had not actually eaten anything yet, and it was dinner time. So, being curious as to whether they also did baked Portuguese chicken rice -- which I wasn't planning to order, but I just wanted to check -- I went in and avidly studied the menu.
What I ordered was 涼瓜斑球飯，同埋一杯港式奶茶，唔該。Bitter melon and fish chunks over rice, and a cup of Hong Kong style milk-tea, if you please ('leung gwaa pan kau faan, tong mai yat pui gong sik naai chaa, m-koi')
Oh boy, dinner was going to be good!
I waited with eager anticipation.
Oh boy oh boy oh boy!
What I got was TWO plates of fish and some kind of vegetable over rice. It turns out that she heard 兩 when I said 涼 and was too flustered to ask for clarification but instead nervously construed amiss.
I have no idea what she took 瓜 to mean.
No bitter melon.
I explained that 'leung gwaa' meant the same as foo gwar. Fu gwaa. Yat yeung ge, hai m-hai. On their menu it says leung gwaa, but that means fu gwaa. And there's only one of me, not two. She looked crestfallen.
I told her I would eat one of the servings anyhow.
But just one.
[Leung: 涼 = three dots water (氵) and the false phonetic element 京 。
Cool, cold. Because that is its effect on the body. 苦 = Fu; bitter.]
The owners are mainlanders, I believe, and she is probably a locally born relative given a part-time job to earn money for college. Just guessing.
But she speaks English entirely without accent.
I'm fairly certain that she would have to pay for her mistake.
I left a more than seventy percent tip.
If I go there a few more times during her shifts, it will even out, and she'll end up ahead. Next time I'll have to bring a small notepad, however, because she may never have heard of 焗豬扒飯 ('guk chü paa faan') before. It's very Hong Kong, and not at all Chinatown.
I'll have to write it down.
The benefit of this plan for me is that I like the place, I've always liked cha-chanteng. Plus each table has a bottle of Sriracha.
And the young lady is nice to look at.
That adds sweetness.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Saturday, January 09, 2016
THE CHINESE FOOD YOUR MOTHER WARNED YOU ABOUT!
Many of us grew up with severe parental warnings about Chinese food. It lacked subtlety (sweet and sour pork), there was no nutritional value in it (chow mein American restaurant style), it made you sick (if you ate too much, yes, but that was not the fault of the food), and on the whole it just wasn't a good solid meal. By "a good solid meal" was meant something that stayed with you for hours, rather than leaving you hungry after you ate it. And by that standard, muck from MacDonalds is "a good solid meal", because it's damned well indigestible, and will indeed stay with you.
A burger from most fast-food places is lousy company.
No wonder Americans drink like Scotsmen!
Whisky alleviates digestive angst.
Americans, for the longest time, cooked like Brits.
I can still vividly remember my last visit to England, which was culinarily horrendous. My ex-girlfriend insisted that we try the traditional English breakfast, and while she suffered no ill-effects, suffice to say it left me pondering the meaning of life for three ghastly days.
She's Cantonese, and has the digestion of a horse.
I'm a Dutchman, and consequently more delicate.
Hong Kong food, however, can keep both sides happy. Much of it is impossibly hearty and satisfying, and much of it is as delicate as a refined snooty person might desire.
Being a Dutchman, I cannot claim an excess of refinement. But a good meal that leaves me happy as a clam is something worthy of praise.
Baked porkchop over rice with tomato!
鮮茄焗豬扒飯
['sin ke guk chü paa faan']
2 - 3 cups freshly prepared egg-fried rice.
2 pork chops.
1 TBS sherry or rice wine.
1 TBS soy sauce.
1/2 tsp sugar.
2 TBS flour.
1/2 Tsp. finely ground white pepper.
2 cloves garlic, minced.
1 small onion, sliced.
5 ripe tomatoes, coarsely chunked.
2 TBS ketchup.
Dash of Worcestershire.
Quarter cup or more shredded mild cheese.
Marinate the pork chops with sherry, soy sauce, and sugar for an hour. Combine the flour and the ground white pepper and dust the pork chops with this, shaking off the excess. Fry the pork chops over medium heat on each side till browned. Remove the chops from pan.
Fry the garlic and onions till gilded and fragrant in the greasy pan. Lower the heat, add the tomatoes, ketchup and the dash of Worcestershire, and cook till the tomatoes are soft and the sauce is thick.
Now spread the egg-fried rice in a casserole or baking dish. Put the pork chops over the fried rice, glop the tomato and onion sauce evenly over the chops and rice and sprinkle the cheese on top. Stick it in an oven preheated to 425 - 450 degrees Fahrenheit (approximately 220 - 230 degrees Celsius), or under the broiler, and bake till the cheese is bubbly.
Baked tomato porkchop over rice is a tea-restaurant (茶餐廳 'chaa chanteng') classic, which often makes or breaks the reputation of the enterprise. Variables that must be mastered are how much to fry the chops depending on their thickness, how much sauce is required and how thick, the moistness and oil content of the egg-fried rice, and what type of cheese plus how much of it you really need. Ideally the chops should be tender and juicy, the rice underneath hot and comforting, and the tomato flavour more dominant than the cheese.
Naturally you wash it down with hot milk-tea (港式奶茶). Plus a cup of regular Oolong (烏龍) or Sui Hsin (水仙), or whatever semi-fermented tea you normally have with meals.
Most people do not do this at home, but prefer to go get it on the spur of the moment at a neighborhood place, so that they can people-watch while eating. Hong Kong style tea-restaurants are, when busy, the perfect place to do that.
Just like the Baked Portuguese Chicken Rice I mentioned last week, this is sustenance for the single diner, though it can easily be shared. Imagine, for instance, that you went to your bank to pick up cash for the weekend, then to Walgreens to add forty dollars to your transit card, and then decided "ah what the heck I don't feel like cooking this evening, perhaps I should get a bite to eat, then have a smoke while wandering around the old neighborhood".
Which was an excellent idea!
The poor waitress was somewhat disconcerted by the kwailo (鬼佬) speaking Cantonese. Instead of gongsik naaicha (港式奶茶), she brought me gwan seui (滾水). Which didn't sound like what I asked for at all.
No matter how horrendous my pronunciation.
I politely corrected her on that score.
好食啊。
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
A burger from most fast-food places is lousy company.
No wonder Americans drink like Scotsmen!
Whisky alleviates digestive angst.
Americans, for the longest time, cooked like Brits.
I can still vividly remember my last visit to England, which was culinarily horrendous. My ex-girlfriend insisted that we try the traditional English breakfast, and while she suffered no ill-effects, suffice to say it left me pondering the meaning of life for three ghastly days.
She's Cantonese, and has the digestion of a horse.
I'm a Dutchman, and consequently more delicate.
Hong Kong food, however, can keep both sides happy. Much of it is impossibly hearty and satisfying, and much of it is as delicate as a refined snooty person might desire.
Being a Dutchman, I cannot claim an excess of refinement. But a good meal that leaves me happy as a clam is something worthy of praise.
Baked porkchop over rice with tomato!
鮮茄焗豬扒飯
['sin ke guk chü paa faan']
2 - 3 cups freshly prepared egg-fried rice.
2 pork chops.
1 TBS sherry or rice wine.
1 TBS soy sauce.
1/2 tsp sugar.
2 TBS flour.
1/2 Tsp. finely ground white pepper.
2 cloves garlic, minced.
1 small onion, sliced.
5 ripe tomatoes, coarsely chunked.
2 TBS ketchup.
Dash of Worcestershire.
Quarter cup or more shredded mild cheese.
Marinate the pork chops with sherry, soy sauce, and sugar for an hour. Combine the flour and the ground white pepper and dust the pork chops with this, shaking off the excess. Fry the pork chops over medium heat on each side till browned. Remove the chops from pan.
Fry the garlic and onions till gilded and fragrant in the greasy pan. Lower the heat, add the tomatoes, ketchup and the dash of Worcestershire, and cook till the tomatoes are soft and the sauce is thick.
Now spread the egg-fried rice in a casserole or baking dish. Put the pork chops over the fried rice, glop the tomato and onion sauce evenly over the chops and rice and sprinkle the cheese on top. Stick it in an oven preheated to 425 - 450 degrees Fahrenheit (approximately 220 - 230 degrees Celsius), or under the broiler, and bake till the cheese is bubbly.
Baked tomato porkchop over rice is a tea-restaurant (茶餐廳 'chaa chanteng') classic, which often makes or breaks the reputation of the enterprise. Variables that must be mastered are how much to fry the chops depending on their thickness, how much sauce is required and how thick, the moistness and oil content of the egg-fried rice, and what type of cheese plus how much of it you really need. Ideally the chops should be tender and juicy, the rice underneath hot and comforting, and the tomato flavour more dominant than the cheese.
Naturally you wash it down with hot milk-tea (港式奶茶). Plus a cup of regular Oolong (烏龍) or Sui Hsin (水仙), or whatever semi-fermented tea you normally have with meals.
Most people do not do this at home, but prefer to go get it on the spur of the moment at a neighborhood place, so that they can people-watch while eating. Hong Kong style tea-restaurants are, when busy, the perfect place to do that.
Just like the Baked Portuguese Chicken Rice I mentioned last week, this is sustenance for the single diner, though it can easily be shared. Imagine, for instance, that you went to your bank to pick up cash for the weekend, then to Walgreens to add forty dollars to your transit card, and then decided "ah what the heck I don't feel like cooking this evening, perhaps I should get a bite to eat, then have a smoke while wandering around the old neighborhood".
Which was an excellent idea!
The poor waitress was somewhat disconcerted by the kwailo (鬼佬) speaking Cantonese. Instead of gongsik naaicha (港式奶茶), she brought me gwan seui (滾水). Which didn't sound like what I asked for at all.
No matter how horrendous my pronunciation.
I politely corrected her on that score.
好食啊。
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Saturday, January 02, 2016
ARROZ DE FORNO COM FRANGO, ESTILO DE MACAU: 焗葡國雞飯
The place seemed quite full, but that was only because several tables near the front were occupied. Once inside, it was apparent that there was enough room. But it was never-the-less busy, and many people were happily enjoying scrumptious food. Surreptitious couples, small family groups, a table full of middle-aged ladies, and one or two large multi-generational family gatherings.
While many people were eating clay pot dishes or yummy noodles, over in the corner a kwailo was snarfing down Baked Portuguese Chicken Rice.
Which is delicious with hot sauce.
葡國汁
Baked Portuguese Chicken Rice (焗葡國雞飯 'guk pou gwok gai faan') is superlative cold-weather food. Hearty, warming, stick-to-yer-ribs goodness. And it is neither Portuguese, nor, despite the characters, Chinese. It's a little of both, and very Hong Kong. A version of chicken rice, with potato, onion, and bell pepper, and a coconut curry sauce on top, shoved into the oven until piping hot.
There is no need for me to provide a recipe, because if the preparation is not instinctive for you, you can find a very good recipe (minus the bell pepper, but including chorizo) simply by typing "Baked Portuguese Chicken Rice" into your search bar. The first thing that should come up is this: "baked portuguese chicken rice (po gok gai fan)", posted on October 26, 2014, by Diana Chan.
Man kann auch ein ausgezeichnetes Rezept finden, durch Fräulein Gracie Hui zu besuchen: Gebacken Portugiesische Huhn mit Reis.
A recipe for just Portuguese Chicken is here: 葡國雞. It is easy and straightforward, like many dishes on the Lee Kum Kee website.
Portuguese Sauce, in the food vocabulary of Hong Kong and Macau, is a simple coconut curry sauce either made at home using coconut milk, chicken stock, turmeric, cumin, and other spices, or available in bottles from Lee Kum Kee and other manufacturers. The inspiration comes more from a South East Asian yellow curry than anything else.
I make my own, using Thai yellow curry paste.
Just as Cantonese food is perfect for Christmas, this odd concoction called Baked Portuguese Chicken Rice is ideal for a quick lunch in the subtropics or tea time eating in the frozen tundras. San Francisco resembles the latter at present, as it is miserable and buggery cold.
The odd concoction hits the spot.
I dawdled over my beverage.
A cup of yuen yeung.
Also very good.
AFTER THOUGHT
My ex would probably like it, and maybe I'll mention it to her. But she'll have to discover it on her own, as our culinary histories have diverged.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
While many people were eating clay pot dishes or yummy noodles, over in the corner a kwailo was snarfing down Baked Portuguese Chicken Rice.
Which is delicious with hot sauce.
葡國汁
Baked Portuguese Chicken Rice (焗葡國雞飯 'guk pou gwok gai faan') is superlative cold-weather food. Hearty, warming, stick-to-yer-ribs goodness. And it is neither Portuguese, nor, despite the characters, Chinese. It's a little of both, and very Hong Kong. A version of chicken rice, with potato, onion, and bell pepper, and a coconut curry sauce on top, shoved into the oven until piping hot.
There is no need for me to provide a recipe, because if the preparation is not instinctive for you, you can find a very good recipe (minus the bell pepper, but including chorizo) simply by typing "Baked Portuguese Chicken Rice" into your search bar. The first thing that should come up is this: "baked portuguese chicken rice (po gok gai fan)", posted on October 26, 2014, by Diana Chan.
Man kann auch ein ausgezeichnetes Rezept finden, durch Fräulein Gracie Hui zu besuchen: Gebacken Portugiesische Huhn mit Reis.
A recipe for just Portuguese Chicken is here: 葡國雞. It is easy and straightforward, like many dishes on the Lee Kum Kee website.
Portuguese Sauce, in the food vocabulary of Hong Kong and Macau, is a simple coconut curry sauce either made at home using coconut milk, chicken stock, turmeric, cumin, and other spices, or available in bottles from Lee Kum Kee and other manufacturers. The inspiration comes more from a South East Asian yellow curry than anything else.
I make my own, using Thai yellow curry paste.
Just as Cantonese food is perfect for Christmas, this odd concoction called Baked Portuguese Chicken Rice is ideal for a quick lunch in the subtropics or tea time eating in the frozen tundras. San Francisco resembles the latter at present, as it is miserable and buggery cold.
The odd concoction hits the spot.
I dawdled over my beverage.
A cup of yuen yeung.
Also very good.
AFTER THOUGHT
My ex would probably like it, and maybe I'll mention it to her. But she'll have to discover it on her own, as our culinary histories have diverged.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sunday, November 22, 2015
DOUBTFUL MEATS
Last night I arrived home with a packet of chicken and pork Frankfurters in my coat pocket. Which, when you think about it, is a piss-poor refection on both culinary life in these United States, as well as my non-existent dating game.
I had two, with pickle relish, Sriracha, and ketchup.
Fry-pan grilled, on toasted sour-dough bread.
Not the best mid-night snack.
I've done better.
Very much a mixed crowd at the cigar bar. Interesting people, nice people, dumbasses, and crazy people. As well as the world's cutest cigar smoker. With a bald guy. Whose name I do not remember.
Obviously I like the world's cutest cigar smoker. It's hard not to. She's just so lovable. So, like any rational human being, I worried about the bald guy. And suspected him of being a dangerous type.
That is entirely unjustified, I know. It's just that one cannot help feeling protective. Because most male-cigar smokers tend, more or less, to be dubious persons. Even if they are watching the game (Stanford won) and have trouble focusing on other human beings.
Further cause for worry was that the bartender tried to talk her into something new that was six-and-a-half inches long.
Which is at least an hour commitment.
She stayed for another cigar. Padron, a maduro of modest dimension.
I am presently regretting the chicken and pork franks.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Fry-pan grilled, on toasted sour-dough bread.
Not the best mid-night snack.
I've done better.
Very much a mixed crowd at the cigar bar. Interesting people, nice people, dumbasses, and crazy people. As well as the world's cutest cigar smoker. With a bald guy. Whose name I do not remember.
Obviously I like the world's cutest cigar smoker. It's hard not to. She's just so lovable. So, like any rational human being, I worried about the bald guy. And suspected him of being a dangerous type.
That is entirely unjustified, I know. It's just that one cannot help feeling protective. Because most male-cigar smokers tend, more or less, to be dubious persons. Even if they are watching the game (Stanford won) and have trouble focusing on other human beings.
Further cause for worry was that the bartender tried to talk her into something new that was six-and-a-half inches long.
Which is at least an hour commitment.
She stayed for another cigar. Padron, a maduro of modest dimension.
I am presently regretting the chicken and pork franks.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Thursday, November 12, 2015
CONSIDER THE SINGLE DISH: MAPO TOFU
For the past several years I have cooked as a bachelor. What that means is that it has been effortless, and perfectly suited to only ONE person's taste. More importantly, it has been convenient and nutritious, and took far less time than you would imagine. Usually a simple meat and vegetable dish with ginger, garlic, sherry or rice wine, bean paste, hot sauce, vinegar or lime juice, sugar, black pepper, soy sauce, fish sauce, shrimp sauce, cayenne powder, red curry paste, chili paste, chili sauce, chili oil, pickled chilies, chili vinegar, and freshly chopped chilies.
Plus, sometimes, crystal or Tabasco.
But no chili flakes.
Not all of the above, naturally, and in constantly shifting proportion. Fish requires the merest hint, bittermelon just a touch, preserved pork and long beans not too much, and tofu everything in buckets.
Tofu is bland, and needs all the help it can get.
Which means mapo tofu. More or less.
麻婆豆腐
Mapo tofu need not be vegetarian, but it often is. The quick and easy process is to seethe smashed ginger and garlic in hot oil till fragrant, add a generous pinch of Szichuan pepper (花椒 'faa chiu'), followed by a generous spoonful or two of hot bean paste (辣豆瓣酱 'laat dau baan jeung'), a scant teaspoon of sugar, splash of sherry or ricewine, and some reduced stock with a little cornstarch mixed in. Also add a tablespoon of mashed re-moistened fermented black beans (豆豉 'dau si'), and various chili-type substances. Cook till velvety, add a jigger of soy sauce, then the chunks of fresh tofu, and gently turn to coat and heat through. Add a drizzle of sesame oil and chopped chives.
Serve on top of rice. Or in a bowl, next to the rice.
Takes no time at all, as you can see.
You can add bacon!
Rice actually takes longer to prepare, so most of the time no matter what is for dinner I will have noodles instead. Rice stick noodles need barely any cooking at all, regular wheat noodles or wheat noodles with shrimp roe scarcely longer, and nice white Kwan Miao noodle only a little bit longer yet.
[Rice stick noodles: 沙河粉 'saa ho fan'. Regular wheat noodles: 麵 'min'. Shrimp roe noodles: 蝦子麵 'haa ji min'. Taiwan Kwan Miao noodles: 臺灣關廟麵 'toi waan gwaan miu min'.]
I have a sufficiency of chili-type substances, in case you were wondering, to prepare darn well anything.
The possibilities are endless.
Dinner can always be followed by coffee or strong milk tea, and either a pipe or a cigar.
Bachelors are not tied to weekly television shows after eating.
The world awaits, there are people to disturb.
I may growl grumpily at them.
And puff smoke.
Aack!
I'm actually a pretty good cook, but I haven't been a social cook in a very long time. Rice is social, noodles not so much.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Plus, sometimes, crystal or Tabasco.
But no chili flakes.
Not all of the above, naturally, and in constantly shifting proportion. Fish requires the merest hint, bittermelon just a touch, preserved pork and long beans not too much, and tofu everything in buckets.
Tofu is bland, and needs all the help it can get.
Which means mapo tofu. More or less.
麻婆豆腐
Mapo tofu need not be vegetarian, but it often is. The quick and easy process is to seethe smashed ginger and garlic in hot oil till fragrant, add a generous pinch of Szichuan pepper (花椒 'faa chiu'), followed by a generous spoonful or two of hot bean paste (辣豆瓣酱 'laat dau baan jeung'), a scant teaspoon of sugar, splash of sherry or ricewine, and some reduced stock with a little cornstarch mixed in. Also add a tablespoon of mashed re-moistened fermented black beans (豆豉 'dau si'), and various chili-type substances. Cook till velvety, add a jigger of soy sauce, then the chunks of fresh tofu, and gently turn to coat and heat through. Add a drizzle of sesame oil and chopped chives.
Serve on top of rice. Or in a bowl, next to the rice.
Takes no time at all, as you can see.
You can add bacon!
Rice actually takes longer to prepare, so most of the time no matter what is for dinner I will have noodles instead. Rice stick noodles need barely any cooking at all, regular wheat noodles or wheat noodles with shrimp roe scarcely longer, and nice white Kwan Miao noodle only a little bit longer yet.
[Rice stick noodles: 沙河粉 'saa ho fan'. Regular wheat noodles: 麵 'min'. Shrimp roe noodles: 蝦子麵 'haa ji min'. Taiwan Kwan Miao noodles: 臺灣關廟麵 'toi waan gwaan miu min'.]
I have a sufficiency of chili-type substances, in case you were wondering, to prepare darn well anything.
The possibilities are endless.
Dinner can always be followed by coffee or strong milk tea, and either a pipe or a cigar.
Bachelors are not tied to weekly television shows after eating.
The world awaits, there are people to disturb.
I may growl grumpily at them.
And puff smoke.
Aack!
I'm actually a pretty good cook, but I haven't been a social cook in a very long time. Rice is social, noodles not so much.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
燒鴨之隨想 RANDOM THOUGHTS WHILE EATING ROAST DUCK
It was a choice of bittermelon and spareribs over rice (苦瓜排骨飯 'fu-gwaa paai-gwat faan') or roast duck over rice (燒鴨飯 'siu ngaap faan'). I like both, but wisely I chose duck.
It was exceedingly delicious, and remarkably cheap.
With tea and soup, five and a half dollars.
Better than anything suburban.
嘩，乜咁靚嘅鹹水雞，看起來都好可口！
['wah, mat-gam leng ge haam seui kai, hon hei loi dou hou ho hau!']
The restaurant in question has superior roast or brined meats, and a keenly talented kitchen besides.
While happily eating juicy Donald, several thoughts randomly entered and left my head.
"That's the fifth customer asking if they have roast pork foretrotter (豬手 'jyu sau'; "pig hand"), but each one gets told that only the back foot (後腿 'hau keuk') is left. It must be popular."
"Oh boy! Fatty duck, fatty duck!"
"Hah! The food is too salty for Savage Kitten's sensitive white boyfriend! They'll never eat here!"
"The early waitress has small bosoms and looks so young, but she's already married and a mother."
"Oh boy! Fatty duck, fatty duck!"
"Man, both the thin one and her friend with the round face and the thighs like giant hams are thoroughly enjoying the chicken wings! They look so happy!"
"These tables are entirely not sticky, and everything is clean."
"Am I the only white guy here? Why yes I am!"
"Pity they don't serve rabbit."
"School must be out. That would explain all the floppity pony tails going down the street."
"So far every customer getting food to go has been female. Either they're gonna eat it all by themselves, or their family members are getting a treat."
"That cute little girl is staring at my duck."
"He's going to order a plate of soy pork liver, despite the risk of gout.
And she'll let him, cause he's older than her.
Good for you, gramps."
"The old guy must be loaded, or that's a relative. But how come he can't speak Cantonese as well as her?"
"Those large white people looking in are Northern European tourists. They look so timid."
"It would be great if there were two of us; then we could also have some charsiu."
"Wow, those saltwater chickens look scrumptious!"
"Oh boy! Fatty duck, fatty duck!"
"Dang I love grease!"
Anyway, it was so good, and the pipe I smoked afterwards while wandering down to Portsmouth Square so utterly satisfying, that I entirely forgot to buy vegetables for dinner.
There are only two chilies left.
I think I'll just have a cheese sandwich to eat later.
With sliced green Jalapeños.
And tomato.
Next time I should get some saltwater chicken (鹹水雞 'haam seui kaai', also called 鹽水雞 'yim seui kaai') to go; that way I'm sure to remember to look for gailan (芥蘭 'gaai laan') on Stockton Street before heading home.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
It was exceedingly delicious, and remarkably cheap.
With tea and soup, five and a half dollars.
Better than anything suburban.
嘩，乜咁靚嘅鹹水雞，看起來都好可口！
['wah, mat-gam leng ge haam seui kai, hon hei loi dou hou ho hau!']
The restaurant in question has superior roast or brined meats, and a keenly talented kitchen besides.
While happily eating juicy Donald, several thoughts randomly entered and left my head.
"That's the fifth customer asking if they have roast pork foretrotter (豬手 'jyu sau'; "pig hand"), but each one gets told that only the back foot (後腿 'hau keuk') is left. It must be popular."
"Oh boy! Fatty duck, fatty duck!"
"Hah! The food is too salty for Savage Kitten's sensitive white boyfriend! They'll never eat here!"
"The early waitress has small bosoms and looks so young, but she's already married and a mother."
"Oh boy! Fatty duck, fatty duck!"
"Man, both the thin one and her friend with the round face and the thighs like giant hams are thoroughly enjoying the chicken wings! They look so happy!"
"These tables are entirely not sticky, and everything is clean."
"Am I the only white guy here? Why yes I am!"
"Pity they don't serve rabbit."
"School must be out. That would explain all the floppity pony tails going down the street."
"So far every customer getting food to go has been female. Either they're gonna eat it all by themselves, or their family members are getting a treat."
"That cute little girl is staring at my duck."
"He's going to order a plate of soy pork liver, despite the risk of gout.
And she'll let him, cause he's older than her.
Good for you, gramps."
"The old guy must be loaded, or that's a relative. But how come he can't speak Cantonese as well as her?"
"Those large white people looking in are Northern European tourists. They look so timid."
"It would be great if there were two of us; then we could also have some charsiu."
"Wow, those saltwater chickens look scrumptious!"
"Oh boy! Fatty duck, fatty duck!"
"Dang I love grease!"
Anyway, it was so good, and the pipe I smoked afterwards while wandering down to Portsmouth Square so utterly satisfying, that I entirely forgot to buy vegetables for dinner.
There are only two chilies left.
I think I'll just have a cheese sandwich to eat later.
With sliced green Jalapeños.
And tomato.
Next time I should get some saltwater chicken (鹹水雞 'haam seui kaai', also called 鹽水雞 'yim seui kaai') to go; that way I'm sure to remember to look for gailan (芥蘭 'gaai laan') on Stockton Street before heading home.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Friday, September 11, 2015
BACON AND CURLY FRIES
Conversationally I am not exactly a thrill-meister. No, I cannot blame others for this, it's just a fact. The people who seem most attracted to me in certain environments are usually the elderly, the insane, and the intoxicated.
Yes, of course I usually tolerate them.
They also need to speak.
Over the years I've gotten better at sensing who these people are, and eventually avoiding them if I don't feel gregarious. As well as withdrawing from conversations where my input is not really appreciated.
That latter ability is far more important.
I'm not very social anymore.
Among the strange revelations from people who have pinpointed me as a tolerant cooz who won't tell them in uncertain terms to bugger off and leave me be, so far not a single one has been that the speaker is a very normal person who is sane, balanced, and altogether not very exciting.
The world is filled with unique individuals.
Or San Francisco is, at least.
And they know it.
VISUALLY INVOLVED
I wasn't hungry till he had food delivered from a restaurant in the alley. The conversation continued while he and the third person consumed it. They left shortly after eating, and by that time the noise level had sufficiently clobbered me that I felt no need to stay there either.
It's not something which I planned, nor a particular preference, but I usually dine alone. When I'm at a restaurant I will pick the seat that allows me a greater view of everyone else in there, as well as the street outside.
I rather like busy streets, as there is so much to see.
And other people interacting are fascinating.
It's very much like being in a zoo.
Observational ambiguity.
What tells me that I am not the monkey behind bars is that I have a choice about when and what I eat.
When I got home I fixed myself noodles with bacon, bitter melon, and hot sauce.
Sriracha: it's the solitary man's companion.
That just happened.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
They also need to speak.
Over the years I've gotten better at sensing who these people are, and eventually avoiding them if I don't feel gregarious. As well as withdrawing from conversations where my input is not really appreciated.
That latter ability is far more important.
I'm not very social anymore.
Among the strange revelations from people who have pinpointed me as a tolerant cooz who won't tell them in uncertain terms to bugger off and leave me be, so far not a single one has been that the speaker is a very normal person who is sane, balanced, and altogether not very exciting.
The world is filled with unique individuals.
Or San Francisco is, at least.
And they know it.
VISUALLY INVOLVED
I wasn't hungry till he had food delivered from a restaurant in the alley. The conversation continued while he and the third person consumed it. They left shortly after eating, and by that time the noise level had sufficiently clobbered me that I felt no need to stay there either.
It's not something which I planned, nor a particular preference, but I usually dine alone. When I'm at a restaurant I will pick the seat that allows me a greater view of everyone else in there, as well as the street outside.
I rather like busy streets, as there is so much to see.
And other people interacting are fascinating.
It's very much like being in a zoo.
Observational ambiguity.
What tells me that I am not the monkey behind bars is that I have a choice about when and what I eat.
When I got home I fixed myself noodles with bacon, bitter melon, and hot sauce.
Sriracha: it's the solitary man's companion.
That just happened.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Saturday, August 29, 2015
EXISTENTIAL TRIVIALITIES
In the past five years I've probably changed somewhat more than in the previous twenty-one years. Life is a growth process, and more often than not we need to be pushed kicking and screaming forward.
Given choices, we leave some doors closed.
Five years ago Savage Kitten and I broke up. It was not my decision at the time, but the relationship was no longer working for her. Recognizing the inexorable, I yielded as gracefully as I was able.
Being a dick about it would not have been very gentlemanly.
Five years ago I lost a helpmeet. And gained a friend.
There have been positive results of that change.
GROWTH, I GRUDGINGLY SUPPOSE
Yes, I'm still not pleased at having become a bachelor again. I am not the easygoing shallower man I was when I was in my twenties, and not searching for superficial relationships of any kind.
That does not mean that I am in the market for constant companionship or an ever-present paramour.
I rather like having my own life. And I've seen too many couples stifling each other by doing everything together, where each asserts that they naturally must also do what the other likes.
She goes jewelry browsing, he comes along saying "yes dear" and acting interested. He watches the ballgame, she tries to chat intelligently about what is, fundamentally, a silly and pointless game. She squeals over shoes, he savours a cigar and a can of Coors, and both of them hide being bored to tears by the mundane inanities of their mate.
All of which eventually leads to irritability and paranoia.
If I were seeing someone again, I would want time alone. And I would expect the other person to be the same. Eating together and sleeping together is wonderful, but sane and normal people also need solitude.
A good relationship must absolutely include reading time.
And the quietness that that necessitates.
The privacy to dream.
DINNER AND THE SINGLE BEAST
Yes, I have been feeling a little down lately. It's inevitable at this time of year. But it's less than last time, and coloured by more cheerful evil.
The other day I left a Chinese restaurant giggling, because of something that happened while I was eating. You see, I was sharing a large table with three other single diners (each one of us separated by one or two empty seats). The waiter who doesn't like me served them, and after they finished their meals gave them complimentary tongseui (dessert soup; 糖水).
The waitress who had delivered my food noticed, when she was taking away the various plates, that I had not had any, and entreatingly offered to give me some. She was clearly upset that he had excluded me -- you know, I'm almost convinced that he dislikes me because white people are not ever supposed to speak Cantonese, dammit -- and I politely declined the kindness because I was full and had thoroughly enjoyed my meal.
At that restaurant, wait-staff share duties irrespective of who took the order, and who delivered the food. He's a bit of a sneering sort, and far too good to clear clutter unless he absolutely has to. The previous time he had told me they were out of yuen-yeung (coffee and milk-tea mixed together; 鴛鴦), then I saw him fixing a tall glass for another customer.
You may be wondering why I keep going there, but truth be told I love their roast goose, and the rest of the waitstaff are far better people.
The tips left by the other three single diners amounted to less than four dollars. So much for kissing arse with free dessert.
Less than four bucks!
I left a bigger gratuity than the rest of the table combined. And waited till she was at the table again before leaving, so that he couldn't pocket it.
It's petty, but I feel very good about that.
BADGER IN HIS ELEMENT
What really dissipated my funk entirely was going to the cigar bar afterwards for a post-prandial pipe full. I had a great time.
After discussing Rashi and Ibn Ezra, Eli probably thinks I'm the closest he'll ever come to meeting an orthodox rabbi who is also a complete freethinker, an entirely fabled beast indeed. A very charming Scotch-drinking Filipina who likes the smell of cigars and pipes encouraged me to please light up, she loved the aroma. A bright and perky law student who wants a Ferrari may suspect me of insanity.
And the world's cutest cigar smoker thoroughly enjoyed our chat.
Her company is utterly delightful, for a wealth of reasons.
Because of her, I stayed longer than I intended.
It was time very well spent.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Given choices, we leave some doors closed.
Five years ago Savage Kitten and I broke up. It was not my decision at the time, but the relationship was no longer working for her. Recognizing the inexorable, I yielded as gracefully as I was able.
Being a dick about it would not have been very gentlemanly.
Five years ago I lost a helpmeet. And gained a friend.
There have been positive results of that change.
GROWTH, I GRUDGINGLY SUPPOSE
Yes, I'm still not pleased at having become a bachelor again. I am not the easygoing shallower man I was when I was in my twenties, and not searching for superficial relationships of any kind.
That does not mean that I am in the market for constant companionship or an ever-present paramour.
I rather like having my own life. And I've seen too many couples stifling each other by doing everything together, where each asserts that they naturally must also do what the other likes.
She goes jewelry browsing, he comes along saying "yes dear" and acting interested. He watches the ballgame, she tries to chat intelligently about what is, fundamentally, a silly and pointless game. She squeals over shoes, he savours a cigar and a can of Coors, and both of them hide being bored to tears by the mundane inanities of their mate.
All of which eventually leads to irritability and paranoia.
If I were seeing someone again, I would want time alone. And I would expect the other person to be the same. Eating together and sleeping together is wonderful, but sane and normal people also need solitude.
A good relationship must absolutely include reading time.
And the quietness that that necessitates.
The privacy to dream.
DINNER AND THE SINGLE BEAST
Yes, I have been feeling a little down lately. It's inevitable at this time of year. But it's less than last time, and coloured by more cheerful evil.
The other day I left a Chinese restaurant giggling, because of something that happened while I was eating. You see, I was sharing a large table with three other single diners (each one of us separated by one or two empty seats). The waiter who doesn't like me served them, and after they finished their meals gave them complimentary tongseui (dessert soup; 糖水).
The waitress who had delivered my food noticed, when she was taking away the various plates, that I had not had any, and entreatingly offered to give me some. She was clearly upset that he had excluded me -- you know, I'm almost convinced that he dislikes me because white people are not ever supposed to speak Cantonese, dammit -- and I politely declined the kindness because I was full and had thoroughly enjoyed my meal.
At that restaurant, wait-staff share duties irrespective of who took the order, and who delivered the food. He's a bit of a sneering sort, and far too good to clear clutter unless he absolutely has to. The previous time he had told me they were out of yuen-yeung (coffee and milk-tea mixed together; 鴛鴦), then I saw him fixing a tall glass for another customer.
You may be wondering why I keep going there, but truth be told I love their roast goose, and the rest of the waitstaff are far better people.
The tips left by the other three single diners amounted to less than four dollars. So much for kissing arse with free dessert.
Less than four bucks!
I left a bigger gratuity than the rest of the table combined. And waited till she was at the table again before leaving, so that he couldn't pocket it.
It's petty, but I feel very good about that.
BADGER IN HIS ELEMENT
What really dissipated my funk entirely was going to the cigar bar afterwards for a post-prandial pipe full. I had a great time.
After discussing Rashi and Ibn Ezra, Eli probably thinks I'm the closest he'll ever come to meeting an orthodox rabbi who is also a complete freethinker, an entirely fabled beast indeed. A very charming Scotch-drinking Filipina who likes the smell of cigars and pipes encouraged me to please light up, she loved the aroma. A bright and perky law student who wants a Ferrari may suspect me of insanity.
And the world's cutest cigar smoker thoroughly enjoyed our chat.
Her company is utterly delightful, for a wealth of reasons.
Because of her, I stayed longer than I intended.
It was time very well spent.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Saturday, August 08, 2015
A FIRST CLASS DINING ROOM: THE KAM PO KITCHEN
You do not go to a siu mei restaurant for vegetables. Indeed, they are available, and nicely done. But the focus is meat. Nice juicy Cantonese meat. And boy jayzus, do the Cantonese know meat.
Not cow, of course, because that is what violent savages driving herds across the wastelands eat. Nor, unfortunately, lamb or goat -- similar horrid associations as beef -- but pig, duck, chicken.
Observant Jews and Muslims are entirely out of luck, but heathens and the un-observant will enter heaven.
Assuming, of course, that the heathens have healthy appetites.
And none of the usual waspy food-hangups.
This ain't Mickey Dees.
Boruch Hashem.
[Siu mei (燒味): A category of Cantonese cookery that emphasizes roasting, barbecue, and brine. Mostly pork and duck. Available plain , with rice or noodles, in soup, or combined with a very limited number of vegetable options.]
A lot of people know the Kam Po located on the corner of Powell and Broadway, but remarkably few of them are very white. Which is odd, because in a pork-loving town such as San Francisco, this is one of the great culinary treasures. Their siu yiuk is excellent, as is their charsiu, if you let them know that you like it fatty.
[Siu yiuk (燒肉): Roasted pig; white meat, crispy skin. Charsiu (叉燒): barbecue pork slabs, sweet and charry.]
A lawyer of Cantonese ancestry sneers at the place, because he says it's "too Toisan, strictly for peasants". But I disagree. He's a saamyup snob, and sneers at damned well everything including my horrid pronunciation whenever I speak Chinese, and he mostly hangs out with whitey-white-whites anyway.
[Toisan (台山): a district in Southern China, beyond Guangzhou City (廣州市 'gwong jau si'), where a lot of Cantonese Americans have roots. The local dialect is quite distinct. Centuries ago the place was called Sunning (新寧縣 'san ning yuen'; "new serenity county"). Saamyup (三邑): The Three Counties; Naam Hoi (南海), Pun Yu (番禺), and Suen Tak (顺德), where more urban Cantonese hail from.]
Judging by the exquisite meats, peasants eat mighty well.
All hail the peasants and their excellent taste.
港新寶燒腊小食 ['GONG SAN PO SIU LAAP SIU SIK']
KAM PO (H.K.) - KAM PO KITCHEN
801 Broadway, San Francisco, CA 94133.
415-982-3516
["harbour new treasure roast meats eatery"]
It gets crowded by dinner time, and closes around eight, eight thirty.
Most customers don't eat in, but take home huge orders.
Best time is mid to late afternoon.
When I first started eating here, I was still living in North Beach, and rather often short on cash. Their food was affordable and excellent. My girlfriend at the time and I loved the place, and even after we moved away from Chinatown we regularly got take-out food from there.
"What do you feel like eating tonight?"
"How about charsiu and roast duck over rice ... "
"Sure! I'll go get it this time!"
Memorable meals. Many of them.
For a long time after we separated, I avoided the place, because her new boyfriend liked the food and they went there together a lot. It was associated in my mind with my lack of a love-life, and his happiness.
I want her to be happy, but not him.
But I've gotten over that. Yes, the two of them are still connected, despite their frequent break-ups (hello, Asperger types, you know all about this!), and they still eat there.
But only on weekend afternoons, because he's uncomfortable around too much Chineseness, as well as the lack of attention he is likely to suffer when the place is busy.
Heh. Poor little woozzums.
高級美食
My days off are her work-days. And I'm a later eater than either of them. And best of all, I am by no means uncomfortable about too much Chineseness. Likely to take notes or secretly listen in on conversations, yes, but uncomfortable, no.
And this place is perfect for people watching. See, over there is a kid sent by his mom to pick up eight dollars worth of pork, an auntie getting half a duck is behind him. A mom and her little daughter are flirting with a hanging chicken while they wait in line to place an order. An old man hollers for the waitress -- "ah leeeeeeng nui!" -- while his wife cringes at him so loudly using such a casual form of address. Three Hong Kong types are scarfing down noodles and meat while gesticulating wildly with their chopsticks. A tiny girl has finished eating, and is staring over the back of her chair at the next table while her family continues digging in. A tyke wanders around at eye-level to MY plate of roast duck rice.
Dang he's getting close.
I would like some more tea, but the 'leeeeeeng nui' has just rushed out with five plates of stirfried stuff for the Mandarin speakers. She's pre-occupied.
And another family just sat down.
[Leeeeeeng nui (靚女): pretty girl. This is NOT an acceptable term of address from men who are not known to people within hearing range, especially if there could be any suspicion that the gentleman in question is haamsap (鹹濕 "salty moist", randy or lascivious), as all single men without a doubt are. An elderly married man, a middle-aged woman, or a distant relative have considerably more leeway, and quite often older people who are known to the staff will address the counterwoman or waitress as such, even if qua age and appearance hyperbole may be assumed.]
A frowsty residential hotel woman is trying to communicate with the cleaver man at the counter. Despite serious language differences -- he speaks old country, she's from the Deep South -- there is fluent data-laden clarity.
She leaves happy with her soy-sauce chicken.
[Soy sauce chicken (豉油雞): si yau kai. Quick-boiled bird with soy sauce brushed over the skin to colour and add a touch of saltiness. Alternatively, paak chek kai (白切雞) can be had, which is plain poached chicken, chopped into chunks, perfectly fresh, with a small saucer of minced ginger and scallion mushed together with a little chicken grease as a dip (姜蓉 'geung yong').]
Besides the soy sauce chicken, soy-brine chicken (鹵水雞 'lou seui kai') is also a common take-out order, and it likewise is very good.
Such small meats will add pizazz to your insta-noodles.
Because residential hotels don't have kitchens.
"Thaaanks, hon, ah see yew-awl laytuh ...."
Outside, people are hurrying home for dinner, while others ogle the roast ducks in the window. Several teenages stroll by sharing a cigarette.
There's an angry man screaming at traffic.
Did I mention that the food is excellent?
Jook, noodles, savoury meats.
It ain't the Joy Hing in Wanchai, but it's a whole lot better. The quality is consistent, the tables are clean, the staff and clientele are happier, and you can get exactly what you want, no fuss no hassle no question.
[Joy Hing in Wanchai: 再興燒臘飯店, 灣仔軒尼詩道265-267號地下C座 (265-267 Hennessy Road, ground floor, Wan Chai). Joy Hing is a famous siu mei establishment in Hong Kong.]
Plus there are orange cuttlefish hanging in the window: lou seui mo yü (鹵水墨魚). Dipped in soy sauce, delicious!
Why yes, I would LOVE a bowl of old-fire soup with my meal!
You are much too kind.
Nei yau sam.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Not cow, of course, because that is what violent savages driving herds across the wastelands eat. Nor, unfortunately, lamb or goat -- similar horrid associations as beef -- but pig, duck, chicken.
Observant Jews and Muslims are entirely out of luck, but heathens and the un-observant will enter heaven.
Assuming, of course, that the heathens have healthy appetites.
And none of the usual waspy food-hangups.
This ain't Mickey Dees.
Boruch Hashem.
[Siu mei (燒味): A category of Cantonese cookery that emphasizes roasting, barbecue, and brine. Mostly pork and duck. Available plain , with rice or noodles, in soup, or combined with a very limited number of vegetable options.]
A lot of people know the Kam Po located on the corner of Powell and Broadway, but remarkably few of them are very white. Which is odd, because in a pork-loving town such as San Francisco, this is one of the great culinary treasures. Their siu yiuk is excellent, as is their charsiu, if you let them know that you like it fatty.
[Siu yiuk (燒肉): Roasted pig; white meat, crispy skin. Charsiu (叉燒): barbecue pork slabs, sweet and charry.]
A lawyer of Cantonese ancestry sneers at the place, because he says it's "too Toisan, strictly for peasants". But I disagree. He's a saamyup snob, and sneers at damned well everything including my horrid pronunciation whenever I speak Chinese, and he mostly hangs out with whitey-white-whites anyway.
[Toisan (台山): a district in Southern China, beyond Guangzhou City (廣州市 'gwong jau si'), where a lot of Cantonese Americans have roots. The local dialect is quite distinct. Centuries ago the place was called Sunning (新寧縣 'san ning yuen'; "new serenity county"). Saamyup (三邑): The Three Counties; Naam Hoi (南海), Pun Yu (番禺), and Suen Tak (顺德), where more urban Cantonese hail from.]
Judging by the exquisite meats, peasants eat mighty well.
All hail the peasants and their excellent taste.
港新寶燒腊小食 ['GONG SAN PO SIU LAAP SIU SIK']
KAM PO (H.K.) - KAM PO KITCHEN
801 Broadway, San Francisco, CA 94133.
415-982-3516
["harbour new treasure roast meats eatery"]
It gets crowded by dinner time, and closes around eight, eight thirty.
Most customers don't eat in, but take home huge orders.
Best time is mid to late afternoon.
When I first started eating here, I was still living in North Beach, and rather often short on cash. Their food was affordable and excellent. My girlfriend at the time and I loved the place, and even after we moved away from Chinatown we regularly got take-out food from there.
"What do you feel like eating tonight?"
"How about charsiu and roast duck over rice ... "
"Sure! I'll go get it this time!"
Memorable meals. Many of them.
For a long time after we separated, I avoided the place, because her new boyfriend liked the food and they went there together a lot. It was associated in my mind with my lack of a love-life, and his happiness.
I want her to be happy, but not him.
But I've gotten over that. Yes, the two of them are still connected, despite their frequent break-ups (hello, Asperger types, you know all about this!), and they still eat there.
But only on weekend afternoons, because he's uncomfortable around too much Chineseness, as well as the lack of attention he is likely to suffer when the place is busy.
Heh. Poor little woozzums.
高級美食
My days off are her work-days. And I'm a later eater than either of them. And best of all, I am by no means uncomfortable about too much Chineseness. Likely to take notes or secretly listen in on conversations, yes, but uncomfortable, no.
And this place is perfect for people watching. See, over there is a kid sent by his mom to pick up eight dollars worth of pork, an auntie getting half a duck is behind him. A mom and her little daughter are flirting with a hanging chicken while they wait in line to place an order. An old man hollers for the waitress -- "ah leeeeeeng nui!" -- while his wife cringes at him so loudly using such a casual form of address. Three Hong Kong types are scarfing down noodles and meat while gesticulating wildly with their chopsticks. A tiny girl has finished eating, and is staring over the back of her chair at the next table while her family continues digging in. A tyke wanders around at eye-level to MY plate of roast duck rice.
Dang he's getting close.
I would like some more tea, but the 'leeeeeeng nui' has just rushed out with five plates of stirfried stuff for the Mandarin speakers. She's pre-occupied.
And another family just sat down.
[Leeeeeeng nui (靚女): pretty girl. This is NOT an acceptable term of address from men who are not known to people within hearing range, especially if there could be any suspicion that the gentleman in question is haamsap (鹹濕 "salty moist", randy or lascivious), as all single men without a doubt are. An elderly married man, a middle-aged woman, or a distant relative have considerably more leeway, and quite often older people who are known to the staff will address the counterwoman or waitress as such, even if qua age and appearance hyperbole may be assumed.]
A frowsty residential hotel woman is trying to communicate with the cleaver man at the counter. Despite serious language differences -- he speaks old country, she's from the Deep South -- there is fluent data-laden clarity.
She leaves happy with her soy-sauce chicken.
[Soy sauce chicken (豉油雞): si yau kai. Quick-boiled bird with soy sauce brushed over the skin to colour and add a touch of saltiness. Alternatively, paak chek kai (白切雞) can be had, which is plain poached chicken, chopped into chunks, perfectly fresh, with a small saucer of minced ginger and scallion mushed together with a little chicken grease as a dip (姜蓉 'geung yong').]
Besides the soy sauce chicken, soy-brine chicken (鹵水雞 'lou seui kai') is also a common take-out order, and it likewise is very good.
Such small meats will add pizazz to your insta-noodles.
Because residential hotels don't have kitchens.
"Thaaanks, hon, ah see yew-awl laytuh ...."
Outside, people are hurrying home for dinner, while others ogle the roast ducks in the window. Several teenages stroll by sharing a cigarette.
There's an angry man screaming at traffic.
Did I mention that the food is excellent?
Jook, noodles, savoury meats.
It ain't the Joy Hing in Wanchai, but it's a whole lot better. The quality is consistent, the tables are clean, the staff and clientele are happier, and you can get exactly what you want, no fuss no hassle no question.
[Joy Hing in Wanchai: 再興燒臘飯店, 灣仔軒尼詩道265-267號地下C座 (265-267 Hennessy Road, ground floor, Wan Chai). Joy Hing is a famous siu mei establishment in Hong Kong.]
Plus there are orange cuttlefish hanging in the window: lou seui mo yü (鹵水墨魚). Dipped in soy sauce, delicious!
Why yes, I would LOVE a bowl of old-fire soup with my meal!
You are much too kind.
Nei yau sam.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sunday, June 14, 2015
THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT
Earlier today I read about a burrito con carnitas y salsa picante, sin frijoles. It was just before lunch, which at that point promptly changed from a distant eventuality to an immediate imperative. Because I just purely love carnitas.
As well as salsa picante. By which is often meant a zesty condiment that, contrary to the usual picco de gallo or salsa verde, consists of roasted chiles ground smooth.
Not the jalapeños with which most people are familiar, but something quintessentially exciting like chile perron, mirasol, or even habanero.
That ahumadic flavour, that wee bit of oomph.
About as close to heaven as can be.
Mas wonderful, dude.
Right now I am again thinking of a burrito with carnitas. Nay, I veritably lust after it. The prospect fills me with joy. There's a taqueria around the corner which has a lovely orange salsa picante. Perhaps I should get one to go, and eat it a bar filled with drag queens.
Around another corner.
"I've looked on a lot of women with lust. I've committed adultery in my heart many times."
-----President Jimmy Carter, 1976.
Jimmy was a doofus. I like women -- very fond of them, in fact -- but unless the woman has that glow in her eyes that says "come here you intellectual hunk of hot brainy pipe-smoking masculinity, I really want to lick you but perhaps we should talk first", I am not likely to think of her as quite so lust-inducing as a 'nukyaler' engineer from deepest Georgia might. A good burrito, on the other hand, is more precious than rubies.
Much more attainable at eight-fifty PM on a Sunday night, too.
We'll save the pursuit of dating-material for daytime.
Keep the concept in the back of our mind.
I am a one-woman man.
But quite the burritoizer.
Burritos are something of which one can have multiples. A different burrito every week. Burritos never break your heart, or toy with your affections.
With a good burrito I shall not fear commitment. Nor will the saucy comestible ever be an embarrassment or demanding.
I wouldn't mind sharing a burrito with a nice woman -- especially one who thought I was altogether rather scrumptious to hang with -- but I would probably insist on buying her a tasty burrito of her very own.
Burritos are rather personal objects, you see.
It's about choices.
I am man enough to enable another burrito lover.
Madam, your burrito looks adorable.
Here, have some salsa.
Yum.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Not the jalapeños with which most people are familiar, but something quintessentially exciting like chile perron, mirasol, or even habanero.
That ahumadic flavour, that wee bit of oomph.
About as close to heaven as can be.
Mas wonderful, dude.
Right now I am again thinking of a burrito with carnitas. Nay, I veritably lust after it. The prospect fills me with joy. There's a taqueria around the corner which has a lovely orange salsa picante. Perhaps I should get one to go, and eat it a bar filled with drag queens.
Around another corner.
"I've looked on a lot of women with lust. I've committed adultery in my heart many times."
-----President Jimmy Carter, 1976.
Jimmy was a doofus. I like women -- very fond of them, in fact -- but unless the woman has that glow in her eyes that says "come here you intellectual hunk of hot brainy pipe-smoking masculinity, I really want to lick you but perhaps we should talk first", I am not likely to think of her as quite so lust-inducing as a 'nukyaler' engineer from deepest Georgia might. A good burrito, on the other hand, is more precious than rubies.
Much more attainable at eight-fifty PM on a Sunday night, too.
We'll save the pursuit of dating-material for daytime.
Keep the concept in the back of our mind.
I am a one-woman man.
But quite the burritoizer.
Burritos are something of which one can have multiples. A different burrito every week. Burritos never break your heart, or toy with your affections.
With a good burrito I shall not fear commitment. Nor will the saucy comestible ever be an embarrassment or demanding.
I wouldn't mind sharing a burrito with a nice woman -- especially one who thought I was altogether rather scrumptious to hang with -- but I would probably insist on buying her a tasty burrito of her very own.
Burritos are rather personal objects, you see.
It's about choices.
I am man enough to enable another burrito lover.
Madam, your burrito looks adorable.
Here, have some salsa.
Yum.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, June 03, 2015
UPPING THE DIETARY FIBRE INTAKE QUITE STAGGERINGLY
Sometimes food experiments go disastrously wrong. But I know better now. Last night I cooked a vegetable that I may never have eaten before, and rather regretted the result.
I cut the vegetable in chunks, put them in the pan.
Added chopped bacon and sliced ginger.
When everything was nice and fragrant, I added a splash of water, a hefty dollop of chili paste, some fish dew, and a squeeze of lime.
Then cooked it down till glazey with pan-juices.
Dumped it over rice stick noodles.
And sat down to feast.
Dang that was unpleasant!
The taste was fine. Splendid, in fact. But this damned new vegetable was incredibly fibrous!
After I finished, there was a large pile of stringy green steel-wool in the ashtray next to my seat.
萵筍［莴笋］
WO SEUN
To the people who know this in English, it is 'celtuce', or 'asparagus lettuce'. And yes, it IS edible. The Chinese name for lactuca sativa angustata means 'lettuce bamboo-shoot', and that is appropriate, given the fibrous quality.
This stemmed lettuce has a pleasant and slightly bitter pith, surrounded by a dense wall of fibres that cannot be chewed. Wherefore the next time I cook it, I shall peel the bejazous out of it, and simmer it a whole lot longer. A slow-braise seems like it might work.
Or perhaps boil peeled chunks in lightly salted water for ten minutes before doing anything else with it.
It would go very well stirfried with chicken bits and fermented black bean sauce -- touch of garlic and ginger -- or dried shrimp and tamarind broth à l'Indonésienne, with a touch of galangal and ripped fresh herbs.
If fully cooked soft, it could be incorporated into an oyster omelette to good effect.
Or, perhaps, as a humble accompaniment to the noble boiled lobster.
A cooked lemon & mustard butter-sauce with capers and anchovies.
The comparison with asparagus in the second name is apt.
It might also make good nautical rope.
Or paper! Yes, paper!
It is, apparently, a very popular vegetable among the Chinese.
I like the flavour -- it possesses a mild grassy sweet freshness with a slight hint of bitter -- so I will most definitely purchase this thing again.
But I will bejazously out peel and thoroughly more cook it.
I can see where it might have a good texture then.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
I cut the vegetable in chunks, put them in the pan.
Added chopped bacon and sliced ginger.
When everything was nice and fragrant, I added a splash of water, a hefty dollop of chili paste, some fish dew, and a squeeze of lime.
Then cooked it down till glazey with pan-juices.
Dumped it over rice stick noodles.
And sat down to feast.
Dang that was unpleasant!
The taste was fine. Splendid, in fact. But this damned new vegetable was incredibly fibrous!
After I finished, there was a large pile of stringy green steel-wool in the ashtray next to my seat.
萵筍［莴笋］
WO SEUN
To the people who know this in English, it is 'celtuce', or 'asparagus lettuce'. And yes, it IS edible. The Chinese name for lactuca sativa angustata means 'lettuce bamboo-shoot', and that is appropriate, given the fibrous quality.
This stemmed lettuce has a pleasant and slightly bitter pith, surrounded by a dense wall of fibres that cannot be chewed. Wherefore the next time I cook it, I shall peel the bejazous out of it, and simmer it a whole lot longer. A slow-braise seems like it might work.
Or perhaps boil peeled chunks in lightly salted water for ten minutes before doing anything else with it.
It would go very well stirfried with chicken bits and fermented black bean sauce -- touch of garlic and ginger -- or dried shrimp and tamarind broth à l'Indonésienne, with a touch of galangal and ripped fresh herbs.
If fully cooked soft, it could be incorporated into an oyster omelette to good effect.
Or, perhaps, as a humble accompaniment to the noble boiled lobster.
A cooked lemon & mustard butter-sauce with capers and anchovies.
The comparison with asparagus in the second name is apt.
It might also make good nautical rope.
Or paper! Yes, paper!
It is, apparently, a very popular vegetable among the Chinese.
I like the flavour -- it possesses a mild grassy sweet freshness with a slight hint of bitter -- so I will most definitely purchase this thing again.
But I will bejazously out peel and thoroughly more cook it.
I can see where it might have a good texture then.
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GRITS AND TOFU
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