My apartment mate left a container of licorice lying around. Not the nice salty strong flavour favoured by civilized people who regularly take their taste buds out for some exercise, but the nasty ghastly crap which Americans and English people like.
Although apparently this crap is Australian.
Bunch of kangaroid perverts.
It is "strawberry flavoured".
How on earth do you dare call it licorice?
Ingredients: brown sugar, wheat flour, wheat glucose syrup, water, treacle, modified food starch, cane sugar, palm oil, artificial strawberry flavor, citric acid, mono- & diglycerides, salt, licorice extract, red 40, sodium bicarbonate.
Little red crap squiggles.
This prompted some reading into additives added to tobacco. Because that's the way my mind works. Licorice, ergo tobacco.
KISSING MY FRIEND WIKIPEDIA
Quote:
Anethole (anise camphor) is an organic compound that is widely used as a flavoring substance. It is a derivative of phenylpropene, a type of aromatic compound that occurs widely in nature, in essential oils. It contributes a large component of the distinctive flavors of anise and fennel (both in the botanical family Apiaceae), anise myrtle (Myrtaceae), liquorice (Fabaceae), camphor, magnolia blossoms, and star anise (Illiciaceae). Closely related to anethole is its isomer estragole, abundant in tarragon (Asteraceae) and basil (Lamiaceae), that has a flavor reminiscent of anise. It is a colorless, fragrant, mildly volatile liquid.[1] Anethole is only slightly soluble in water but exhibits high solubility in ethanol. This difference causes certain anise-flavored liqueurs to become opaque when diluted with water, the ouzo effect.
[SOURCE: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anethole.]
It is distinctly sweet, measuring 13 times sweeter than sugar. It is perceived as being pleasant to the taste even at higher concentrations. It is used in alcoholic drinks ouzo and Pernod. It is also used in seasoning and confectionery applications, oral hygiene products, and in small quantities in natural berry flavors.
End quote.
Quote:
Liquorice or licorice is the root of Glycyrrhiza glabra from which a somewhat sweet flavour can be extracted. The liquorice plant is a legume that is native to southern Europe, India and parts of Asia. It is not botanically related to anise, star anise, or fennel, which are sources of similar flavouring compounds. The word liquorice / licorice is derived (via the Old French licoresse) from the Greek γλυκύρριζα (glukurrhiza), meaning "sweet root", from γλυκύς (glukus), "sweet" + ῥίζα (rhiza), "root", the name provided by Dioscorides.
[SOURCE: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Liquorice.]
The scent of liquorice root comes from a complex and variable combination of compounds, of which anethole is the most minor component (0-3% of total volatiles). Much of the sweetness in liquorice comes from glycyrrhizin, which has a sweet taste, 30–50 times the sweetness of sugar. The sweetness is very different from sugar, being less instant, tart, and lasting longer.
End quote.
Oh Wikipedia, you sweet, sweet mistress!
If you ever wondered what the Danes add to many of their loathsome Burley blends, now you know. Anethole and licorice extract, along with Tonka Bean Oil, are the chemical fundament to making air-cured leaf halfway smokeable.
This also explains why aromatic pipe tobaccos are vastly more popular than civilized blends of natural leaf showcasing in several ways the splendid variation that the plant is capable of producing.
Humans like sweetness; they're whores that way.
No matter how nauseating the product.
I had over a dozen pieces.
Of licorice.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Monday, November 10, 2014
THIS IS WHY YOU NEVER GET INVITED TO COCKTAIL PARTIES
There was a lot of screaming in the cigar cabinet yesterday. Three football games! Lots of testicularity! American men (and two women) just love big shiny behinds prancing around astroturf, then posing bent over, every glutei straining, just before erupting in a brief frenzy of motion.
This is all very sexual. I have to worry about my fellow citizens.
I do believe that they are twisted beyond redemption.
Electro shock is highly recommended.
Stun them, till quiet.
Conversation was impossible. I came home reeking of Dominican filler, and with a headache.
THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER!
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AQXVHITd1N4.]
That's music to meditate by.
I feel much better now.
Some dingbat with a bald head and an illegal Habano tried to make a crack about the Eurocup. His sense of humour is stunted and jejeune.
Water of a duck's back.
Energy drinks were passed around, along with bags of sportsfan kibble.
The Sub-Indian talked all day. On and on and on. I'm sure I'm not the only one who wanted to stuff some ripped-up roti into his face and tell him to "please now to be shutting the choot all up ji only".
Oh bapribap, ulu-bhai, bapribap.
They are all bananas.
I am a saint.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
This is all very sexual. I have to worry about my fellow citizens.
I do believe that they are twisted beyond redemption.
Electro shock is highly recommended.
Stun them, till quiet.
Conversation was impossible. I came home reeking of Dominican filler, and with a headache.
THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER!
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AQXVHITd1N4.]
That's music to meditate by.
I feel much better now.
Some dingbat with a bald head and an illegal Habano tried to make a crack about the Eurocup. His sense of humour is stunted and jejeune.
Water of a duck's back.
Energy drinks were passed around, along with bags of sportsfan kibble.
The Sub-Indian talked all day. On and on and on. I'm sure I'm not the only one who wanted to stuff some ripped-up roti into his face and tell him to "please now to be shutting the choot all up ji only".
Oh bapribap, ulu-bhai, bapribap.
They are all bananas.
I am a saint.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
LOTS OF HAND SANITISER!
A friend desperately needed a good cigar. His boys had been spitting at each other in the back of the car, so he cancelled the sleep-over, and frantically required a fine cheroot to calm himself down.
I could well understand why; no one expects a cat fight in the backseat. Unless they're chauffeuring The Real Housewives of Atlanta. I am a very lucky man. Not having a car, I will never be required to drive the Brides of Godzilla around town.
Aging Room Quattro F55 Concerto Sumatra Churchill
The answer to his vehicular hellzone is a box-pressed work of art with complex flavors, made of Dominican long filler and binder, with an aged Sumatra wrapper. Truly a masterpiece. It's probably the only time that being a father is rewarding for him. Given the propensity of his brats to riot and share body-fluids.
When they become teenagers, the body-fluid situation will reach epic proportions. And they may end up with "friends" who resemble Phaedra, NeNe, Kandi, Porsha, and Kenya.
Or, G-d forbid, the Kim thing.
THERE ARE NO SPIT-STORMS HERE
I myself am restrained about sharing body fluids. Consequently I have not followed the extremely bad advice of well-meaning friends OR internet dating services, and have enjoyed an uncomplicated and fairly pleasant bachelor life for the last four years. No rebound boopsie, no casual dating, no badly thought-out relationships. No fits of recriminatory screaming.
And absolutely no actual contact with a woman.
I forgotten what they feel like.
There has been no need whatsoever for hand sanitizer.
I actually do like women, but it's more of an abstract thing, an elusive intellectual conceit, if you will. The actuality, as is evident in San Francisco, suggests that I might not be romantically inclined.
I have not met anyone to whom I would wish to extend the invitation to come on over with a book; we can read in near-silence for several hours, have a cup of tea or two, and perhaps go out for pastry.
I've got a throw-rug you can borrow if you're cold.
Do feel free to doze for a while in the quiet.
Just say when you want to wake up.
In last fifty months I've seen one good friend strike-out on two arranged situations that were intended to result in marriage, another (female) date an entire string of 'dudes', and a middle-aged woman scream that she wanted Young! Serbian! Men! Now!
As well as mismatchings and bad choices galore among the twenty-somethings who have taken over the world.
Any of those things would drive me to cigar-smoking also.
All of the cigar-smokers I know are either in relationships, or insane. Many are both. I'm making all kinds of assumptions.
I am a pipe-smoker, and unattached.
As well as completely sane.
That's a plus.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
I could well understand why; no one expects a cat fight in the backseat. Unless they're chauffeuring The Real Housewives of Atlanta. I am a very lucky man. Not having a car, I will never be required to drive the Brides of Godzilla around town.
Aging Room Quattro F55 Concerto Sumatra Churchill
The answer to his vehicular hellzone is a box-pressed work of art with complex flavors, made of Dominican long filler and binder, with an aged Sumatra wrapper. Truly a masterpiece. It's probably the only time that being a father is rewarding for him. Given the propensity of his brats to riot and share body-fluids.
When they become teenagers, the body-fluid situation will reach epic proportions. And they may end up with "friends" who resemble Phaedra, NeNe, Kandi, Porsha, and Kenya.
Or, G-d forbid, the Kim thing.
THERE ARE NO SPIT-STORMS HERE
I myself am restrained about sharing body fluids. Consequently I have not followed the extremely bad advice of well-meaning friends OR internet dating services, and have enjoyed an uncomplicated and fairly pleasant bachelor life for the last four years. No rebound boopsie, no casual dating, no badly thought-out relationships. No fits of recriminatory screaming.
And absolutely no actual contact with a woman.
I forgotten what they feel like.
There has been no need whatsoever for hand sanitizer.
I actually do like women, but it's more of an abstract thing, an elusive intellectual conceit, if you will. The actuality, as is evident in San Francisco, suggests that I might not be romantically inclined.
I have not met anyone to whom I would wish to extend the invitation to come on over with a book; we can read in near-silence for several hours, have a cup of tea or two, and perhaps go out for pastry.
I've got a throw-rug you can borrow if you're cold.
Do feel free to doze for a while in the quiet.
Just say when you want to wake up.
In last fifty months I've seen one good friend strike-out on two arranged situations that were intended to result in marriage, another (female) date an entire string of 'dudes', and a middle-aged woman scream that she wanted Young! Serbian! Men! Now!
As well as mismatchings and bad choices galore among the twenty-somethings who have taken over the world.
Any of those things would drive me to cigar-smoking also.
All of the cigar-smokers I know are either in relationships, or insane. Many are both. I'm making all kinds of assumptions.
I am a pipe-smoker, and unattached.
As well as completely sane.
That's a plus.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sunday, November 09, 2014
THE LONG TAILED MONKEY
I like a good ronsebons. By which I mean the music of a krontjong orchestra, played with style and spirit. Almost nothing says communal good times than a bit of Indo music, you can just imagine the incense-like fragrance of meat on a grill, hot and tangy dishes in big platters so that everyone can have a bit, plus coconut sweeties and electric-coloured beverages with squiggles.
A big heap of yellow rice: nasi kunyit
Night, but too warm to sleep.
Everyone is about.
Off near the back of the crowd a few elderly men are comfortably hurked down, smoking clove cigarettes. No, there's no alcohol; Indos and Indonesians tend to avoid booze, and the vast majority are perfectly happy with sweetly innocent potations.
The orchestra is more likely to be up on a stage nowadays, and there may be microphones to carry to sound; in the past if you were in the back you couldn't hear them over the people.
PANDJANG BUNTUT-NYA MONYET
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bh_JFVSpXJw.]
The video above was posted on youtube by Guido Quicko, who plays the music of the Betawi Portugese descendants. Keroncong Tugu is the band he's involved with. Keroncong is still incredibly popular, not only in Jakarta, but also among the Indos in the Netherlands, who grew up with it from their parents and grandparents. In the same way that Keroncong derives from Portuguese-style music centuries ago, it gave birth to Indo-Rock, a genre seldom heard outside of the Netherlands. In its European environment, Keroncong and Indo-Rock frequently overlap and influence each other.
Some Keroncong is too sappy for my taste. A lot is strangely beautiful. Indo-Rock shares those characteristics, as well as a lot of the cultural background.
Both were familiar sounds in my childhood environment. Valkenswaard, at one time, was one a centre for this kind of music.
Odd. Most of the natives were quite ignorant of it.
Despite the business links to overseas.
Coffee, tea, tobacco.
SURILANG
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IdWgSNWu7Xg.]
Both Keroncong and Indo-Rock come out of the closet during the Pasar Malam in Den Haag. Sometimes they're the preferred music at parties, but that really depends on the people.
Guido Quicko is descended from speakers of Papia, the Portuguese-Malay creole tongue once common in the east; it faded with the rise of Malay as the dominant port-cities language. The last native speaker passed away one generation ago.
Tugu, in the Jakarta area, is where Portuguese cultural elements are still strong. Many keroncong groups are based there or have ties to the neighborhood.
There are also a number of songs in the repertoire that have Ambon and the Maluku Islands as their cultural reference points.
Just one of the effects of history.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
A big heap of yellow rice: nasi kunyit
Night, but too warm to sleep.
Everyone is about.
Off near the back of the crowd a few elderly men are comfortably hurked down, smoking clove cigarettes. No, there's no alcohol; Indos and Indonesians tend to avoid booze, and the vast majority are perfectly happy with sweetly innocent potations.
The orchestra is more likely to be up on a stage nowadays, and there may be microphones to carry to sound; in the past if you were in the back you couldn't hear them over the people.
PANDJANG BUNTUT-NYA MONYET
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bh_JFVSpXJw.]
The video above was posted on youtube by Guido Quicko, who plays the music of the Betawi Portugese descendants. Keroncong Tugu is the band he's involved with. Keroncong is still incredibly popular, not only in Jakarta, but also among the Indos in the Netherlands, who grew up with it from their parents and grandparents. In the same way that Keroncong derives from Portuguese-style music centuries ago, it gave birth to Indo-Rock, a genre seldom heard outside of the Netherlands. In its European environment, Keroncong and Indo-Rock frequently overlap and influence each other.
Some Keroncong is too sappy for my taste. A lot is strangely beautiful. Indo-Rock shares those characteristics, as well as a lot of the cultural background.
Both were familiar sounds in my childhood environment. Valkenswaard, at one time, was one a centre for this kind of music.
Odd. Most of the natives were quite ignorant of it.
Despite the business links to overseas.
Coffee, tea, tobacco.
SURILANG
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IdWgSNWu7Xg.]
Both Keroncong and Indo-Rock come out of the closet during the Pasar Malam in Den Haag. Sometimes they're the preferred music at parties, but that really depends on the people.
Guido Quicko is descended from speakers of Papia, the Portuguese-Malay creole tongue once common in the east; it faded with the rise of Malay as the dominant port-cities language. The last native speaker passed away one generation ago.
Tugu, in the Jakarta area, is where Portuguese cultural elements are still strong. Many keroncong groups are based there or have ties to the neighborhood.
There are also a number of songs in the repertoire that have Ambon and the Maluku Islands as their cultural reference points.
Just one of the effects of history.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
SCREAMING SOBBING INCONSOLABLE TEARS
A friend mentions that eating orange chicken at Panda Express caused a nearby infant to wail. The little tyke was utterly terrified. Howled fit to lift the roof. Which is a strange reaction to someone else enjoying a succulent Chinese meal, but as I have never been to Panda Express and seldom eat suburban gloop, I'll just assume that that is normal.
Neither Panda Express nor its soulmate P. F. Chang's are anywhere near Chinatown. Not geographically, not philosophically. Yet typical American Chinese food is probably the greatest Californian contribution to the national palate of all time. Who doesn't like infinite variations on sweet and sour sauce over crispy chewy mouthfuls? It's universal.
"Then, without breaking her gaze, her face screws up into a little mask of terror and she bursts into screaming, sobbing, inconsolable tears."
Good-o.
American Chinese food is the kind of hearty fare that kept generations of goldminers alive, and sustains everyone in the fly-overs who gets sick and tired of chain restaurant burgers. Or just sick.
It goes without saying that orange chicken bears almost no resemblance to its nearest Chinese relative, 陳皮雞 ('chan pei kai'), which is usually made with chicken wings gilded in a little oil, then sauced with good Chekiang vinegar, sugar, water, and rehumidified dried orange peel.
The principle behind the original is layered flavours intensified for a fragrant - tangy - savoury effect, rather than boneless protein drenched in a sauce that goes well with rice for white people.
White people like sauce. Grits and gravy, rosbif au jus, patat frites with mayonnaise, herring in sour cream, zesty remoulade, dips, stews, thick soups, and that strange big bucket muck that goes on hamburgers.
It's instinctive; they're storing up fat for the zombie apocalypse.
White folks know all about zombies.
I also make orange chicken.
The all-American version.
Yum babies, over rice.
ORANGE CHICKEN
One Lbs boneless skinless chicken cut into strips.
Two egg whites.
Two Tbs. corn starch.
Two Tbs. sherry.
Half cup orange juice.
Quarter cup chicken stock.
One Tbs. soy sauce.
One Tbs. vinegar.
One Tbs. sugar.
Squirt of Sriracha.
One Tsp orange zest.
One Tsp. dried chili flakes.
Garlic and ginger, minced.
One scallion, minced.
Whip the egg white, cornstarch, and sherry till frothy. Dump the chicken bits into this and make sure every piece is well covered. Stick it in the refrigerator for twenty minutes. Then take it out, re-stir briefly, drain the liquid. Dredge the chicken bits well in cornstarch, shake off the excess, and fry in the wok with plenty oil till golden. Remove and drain.
Pour most of the oil out of the wok. Heat the wok and add the minced garlic, ginger, and dried chili flakes. Pour in all the liquids to seethe, add the sugar and zest and a squirt of Sriracha, reduce till near-syrupy. Dump in the chicken, toss to coat, and turn out onto a plate.
Garnish with the minced scallion.
Serve with rice.
If you need more sauce, add a squirt of Sriracha to your food.
Sriracha is one of the very best sambals ever invented.
It also is a California thing: created in 1980 by a Chinese refugee from Vietnam, named after a city with which it has no relation or connection whatsoever, sold up and down the West Coast and now increasingly available for your pleasure in lunch counters, hamburger joints, taco restaurants, soup kitchens, oyster bars, and fine grill rooms galore.
Equally great on pizza, fish, eggs, or beefsteak.
Dare I suggest that the only additional thing that could improve orange chicken would be two or three crispy rashers of bacon?
And, maybe, more hot sauce.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Neither Panda Express nor its soulmate P. F. Chang's are anywhere near Chinatown. Not geographically, not philosophically. Yet typical American Chinese food is probably the greatest Californian contribution to the national palate of all time. Who doesn't like infinite variations on sweet and sour sauce over crispy chewy mouthfuls? It's universal.
"Then, without breaking her gaze, her face screws up into a little mask of terror and she bursts into screaming, sobbing, inconsolable tears."
Good-o.
American Chinese food is the kind of hearty fare that kept generations of goldminers alive, and sustains everyone in the fly-overs who gets sick and tired of chain restaurant burgers. Or just sick.
It goes without saying that orange chicken bears almost no resemblance to its nearest Chinese relative, 陳皮雞 ('chan pei kai'), which is usually made with chicken wings gilded in a little oil, then sauced with good Chekiang vinegar, sugar, water, and rehumidified dried orange peel.
The principle behind the original is layered flavours intensified for a fragrant - tangy - savoury effect, rather than boneless protein drenched in a sauce that goes well with rice for white people.
White people like sauce. Grits and gravy, rosbif au jus, patat frites with mayonnaise, herring in sour cream, zesty remoulade, dips, stews, thick soups, and that strange big bucket muck that goes on hamburgers.
It's instinctive; they're storing up fat for the zombie apocalypse.
White folks know all about zombies.
I also make orange chicken.
The all-American version.
Yum babies, over rice.
ORANGE CHICKEN
One Lbs boneless skinless chicken cut into strips.
Two egg whites.
Two Tbs. corn starch.
Two Tbs. sherry.
Half cup orange juice.
Quarter cup chicken stock.
One Tbs. soy sauce.
One Tbs. vinegar.
One Tbs. sugar.
Squirt of Sriracha.
One Tsp orange zest.
One Tsp. dried chili flakes.
Garlic and ginger, minced.
One scallion, minced.
Whip the egg white, cornstarch, and sherry till frothy. Dump the chicken bits into this and make sure every piece is well covered. Stick it in the refrigerator for twenty minutes. Then take it out, re-stir briefly, drain the liquid. Dredge the chicken bits well in cornstarch, shake off the excess, and fry in the wok with plenty oil till golden. Remove and drain.
Pour most of the oil out of the wok. Heat the wok and add the minced garlic, ginger, and dried chili flakes. Pour in all the liquids to seethe, add the sugar and zest and a squirt of Sriracha, reduce till near-syrupy. Dump in the chicken, toss to coat, and turn out onto a plate.
Garnish with the minced scallion.
Serve with rice.
If you need more sauce, add a squirt of Sriracha to your food.
Sriracha is one of the very best sambals ever invented.
It also is a California thing: created in 1980 by a Chinese refugee from Vietnam, named after a city with which it has no relation or connection whatsoever, sold up and down the West Coast and now increasingly available for your pleasure in lunch counters, hamburger joints, taco restaurants, soup kitchens, oyster bars, and fine grill rooms galore.
Equally great on pizza, fish, eggs, or beefsteak.
Dare I suggest that the only additional thing that could improve orange chicken would be two or three crispy rashers of bacon?
And, maybe, more hot sauce.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Saturday, November 08, 2014
WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?
You know that I am fascinated by my blog stats, as it gives me a fairly good idea what people are reading, looking for, and darn well obsessed by. No, they aren't obsessed by me. This is San Francisco, and thin middle-aged dudes are not high on anybody's Christmas Wish List.
"Dear Santa, send me a coot for the holidays..."
This hasn't happened yet. Coots are standing by. But not holding their breath. Because coots are, above all, cynical and realistic.
It's our nature.
My readers are obsessed by food.
DIM SUM: KINDS, NAMES, PRONUNCIATION, DESCRIPTION
Mar 28, 2012, 11 comments
Pageviews: 4131
HO SI FAT CHOI 好事發財 DRIED OYSTERS WITH BLACK MOSS
Feb 1, 2011, 2 comments
Pageviews: 2044
SEA CUCUMBER - SOAKING AND BRAISING A DELICIOUS SLUG
Oct 1, 2011, 4 comments
Pageviews: 1990
CHINESE NEW YEAR - LUCKY WISHES, LUCKY FOODS
Jan 30, 2011, 4 comments
Pageviews: 1828
HONG KONG ROAST GOOSE IN SHAM TSENG
Oct 5, 2011, 6 comments
Pageviews: 1558
HAM SAP LO - THE CANTONESE PERVERT
Apr 27, 2011, 5 comments
Pageviews: 878
CHERIE CHUNG CHOR-HUNG (鍾楚紅): SMOKING!
Jul 3, 2011, 2 comments
Pageviews: 316
PRISON ON FIRE SONG
Jan 9, 2011
Pageviews: 314
NAKED MIDDLE AGED WHITE MAN
Jan 7, 2012, 3 comments
Pageviews: 288
PORTRAIT OF A NAKED SCHOOLGIRL ON A BED OF TOBACCO
Jul 2, 2010, 6 comments
Pageviews: 257
See, mostly food. The number of people looking for naughty bits (and not actually finding any) is much less than the readers fascinated by comestibles.
Yes, there are also readers who come here to read about tobacco -- something I posted about famous companies and blends seems to get a lot of hits -- but they are also a minority.
Remarkably, a post I wrote back in 2011 about Barbie dolls isn't in the top ten. Go ahead, read it, but this article is not about that.
This post is about food and naughty bits.
Food: Over ten thousand visitors.
Naughty bits: Roughly five hundred.
These numbers do not mirror my own preferences -- like most men, I devote more time to thinking about naughty bits than I let on -- but in a large part they do reflect what I consider worth writing about, and what I like to discuss with chance-met interlocutors.
The only conversation I wish to have about naughty bits is with someone who thinks I'm 'The One', and whom I likewise think is 'The One'. It is not a conversation for public consumption, it would instead be a deeply private and intimate chat.
Very likely food would be involved.
Cookies! I've got cookies!
CHINESE FOOD
The blog stats shown above show that smut, pipes, romance, and hot handsome hunks such as Chow Yunfat aren't as pressing an interest as good things to eat. Although both Mr. Chow as well as the woman who sparkled so appealingly opposite him (Ms. 鍾楚紅) in many movies feature as the results of querant curiosity, and brought readers here.
The preponderance of Chinese cuisine in the top ten posts does not by any means suggest that English speakers are also fascinated by Chinese cooking, but that when Chinese people have questions about food, they go on the internet in such numbers as to skew results. This born out by the meteoric rise in 'hits' the closer it gets to Chinese New Year (which in this coming sheep year will be on Thursday, February 19, 2015).
You will note that three of the top four are New Year related.
Mainland readership goes through the roof at that time.
As well as numbers from South-East Asia.
Chinese New Year is one of the holidays I am least ambivalent about; not being even remotely Chinese, I am not involved, and have neither expectations nor obligations. I can just observe the celebration as an outsider, occasionally cheerfully uttering a festive greeting.
All other holidays are somewhat fraught. Besides being not even remotely Chinese, it turns out I am not even remotely anything else either, though I don't feel that way.
I think this year I just might get my "bah, humbug" on way early.
The holiday season is actually very nice if you just ignore people.
Keep a low profile, smoke my pipe somewhere quiet, have tea and cookies, and when necessary eat Chinese food. With a bit of luck I won't notice everyone else having their nervous breakdowns.
It's the perfect time of year for cookies.
I am coot; hear me roar.
I've got cookies.
On white folks new years day I shall probably head across the hill to Chinatown for some cheung fan (腸粉), as I have for the past several years. Coffee and dim sum at a small shop on Stockton Street, followed by a pipe. Maybe it will be drizzling that day; I like rain, the city looks more beautiful when there's wetness in the air.
Afterwards, home in early evening.
Did I mention the cookies?
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
"Dear Santa, send me a coot for the holidays..."
This hasn't happened yet. Coots are standing by. But not holding their breath. Because coots are, above all, cynical and realistic.
It's our nature.
My readers are obsessed by food.
DIM SUM: KINDS, NAMES, PRONUNCIATION, DESCRIPTION
Mar 28, 2012, 11 comments
Pageviews: 4131
HO SI FAT CHOI 好事發財 DRIED OYSTERS WITH BLACK MOSS
Feb 1, 2011, 2 comments
Pageviews: 2044
SEA CUCUMBER - SOAKING AND BRAISING A DELICIOUS SLUG
Oct 1, 2011, 4 comments
Pageviews: 1990
CHINESE NEW YEAR - LUCKY WISHES, LUCKY FOODS
Jan 30, 2011, 4 comments
Pageviews: 1828
HONG KONG ROAST GOOSE IN SHAM TSENG
Oct 5, 2011, 6 comments
Pageviews: 1558
HAM SAP LO - THE CANTONESE PERVERT
Apr 27, 2011, 5 comments
Pageviews: 878
CHERIE CHUNG CHOR-HUNG (鍾楚紅): SMOKING!
Jul 3, 2011, 2 comments
Pageviews: 316
PRISON ON FIRE SONG
Jan 9, 2011
Pageviews: 314
NAKED MIDDLE AGED WHITE MAN
Jan 7, 2012, 3 comments
Pageviews: 288
PORTRAIT OF A NAKED SCHOOLGIRL ON A BED OF TOBACCO
Jul 2, 2010, 6 comments
Pageviews: 257
See, mostly food. The number of people looking for naughty bits (and not actually finding any) is much less than the readers fascinated by comestibles.
Yes, there are also readers who come here to read about tobacco -- something I posted about famous companies and blends seems to get a lot of hits -- but they are also a minority.
Remarkably, a post I wrote back in 2011 about Barbie dolls isn't in the top ten. Go ahead, read it, but this article is not about that.
This post is about food and naughty bits.
Food: Over ten thousand visitors.
Naughty bits: Roughly five hundred.
These numbers do not mirror my own preferences -- like most men, I devote more time to thinking about naughty bits than I let on -- but in a large part they do reflect what I consider worth writing about, and what I like to discuss with chance-met interlocutors.
The only conversation I wish to have about naughty bits is with someone who thinks I'm 'The One', and whom I likewise think is 'The One'. It is not a conversation for public consumption, it would instead be a deeply private and intimate chat.
Very likely food would be involved.
Cookies! I've got cookies!
CHINESE FOOD
The blog stats shown above show that smut, pipes, romance, and hot handsome hunks such as Chow Yunfat aren't as pressing an interest as good things to eat. Although both Mr. Chow as well as the woman who sparkled so appealingly opposite him (Ms. 鍾楚紅) in many movies feature as the results of querant curiosity, and brought readers here.
The preponderance of Chinese cuisine in the top ten posts does not by any means suggest that English speakers are also fascinated by Chinese cooking, but that when Chinese people have questions about food, they go on the internet in such numbers as to skew results. This born out by the meteoric rise in 'hits' the closer it gets to Chinese New Year (which in this coming sheep year will be on Thursday, February 19, 2015).
You will note that three of the top four are New Year related.
Mainland readership goes through the roof at that time.
As well as numbers from South-East Asia.
Chinese New Year is one of the holidays I am least ambivalent about; not being even remotely Chinese, I am not involved, and have neither expectations nor obligations. I can just observe the celebration as an outsider, occasionally cheerfully uttering a festive greeting.
All other holidays are somewhat fraught. Besides being not even remotely Chinese, it turns out I am not even remotely anything else either, though I don't feel that way.
I think this year I just might get my "bah, humbug" on way early.
The holiday season is actually very nice if you just ignore people.
Keep a low profile, smoke my pipe somewhere quiet, have tea and cookies, and when necessary eat Chinese food. With a bit of luck I won't notice everyone else having their nervous breakdowns.
It's the perfect time of year for cookies.
I am coot; hear me roar.
I've got cookies.
On white folks new years day I shall probably head across the hill to Chinatown for some cheung fan (腸粉), as I have for the past several years. Coffee and dim sum at a small shop on Stockton Street, followed by a pipe. Maybe it will be drizzling that day; I like rain, the city looks more beautiful when there's wetness in the air.
Afterwards, home in early evening.
Did I mention the cookies?
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All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
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Friday, November 07, 2014
THEY TALK FUNNY THERE
Regular readers know that in some ways I have been influenced by British standards -- spelling peculiarities, for instance; specifically those eccentric usages that the English borrowed from Norman French -- even though I am as American as Apple Pie.Which we Dutch Americans invented.
Along with Hamburgers, Horseradish, and Pickled Beets.
And Cookies.
Cookies!
Consequently the video clip below is unsettling.
A DISTURBANCE IN THE FORCE
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whLHguPnK0E.]
I'm with Cookie Monster on this one. Even though John Olliver is such a likable woozzums. It isn't a biscuit. Biscuits by definition mean items that have been twice done, id est foreign comestibles such as rusks, beschuit, and biscotti.
Biscuit also has unfortunate connotations.
Of a totally depraved nature.
They ought to pass a law forcing Brits to speak English.
It would make John Olliver intelligible.
Especially in the South.
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NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Along with Hamburgers, Horseradish, and Pickled Beets.
And Cookies.
Cookies!
Consequently the video clip below is unsettling.
A DISTURBANCE IN THE FORCE
[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whLHguPnK0E.]
I'm with Cookie Monster on this one. Even though John Olliver is such a likable woozzums. It isn't a biscuit. Biscuits by definition mean items that have been twice done, id est foreign comestibles such as rusks, beschuit, and biscotti.
Biscuit also has unfortunate connotations.
Of a totally depraved nature.
They ought to pass a law forcing Brits to speak English.
It would make John Olliver intelligible.
Especially in the South.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Thursday, November 06, 2014
STRANGE THOUGHTS LEAK OUT
One does not often think about bathrooms, especially if one has obeyed the instructions of one's parents and made use of the facilities before leaving the house. And women, particularly, tend to clench and hold rather than visiting dark and frightening bathrooms they do not know.
Some women abstain from soft drinks, caffeinated beverages, milk shakes, cheap beer, and soup, for fear that the bladder might demand attention.
If you ever wondered why some of them have a pained look on their faces, now you know. It took me a while to realize why I kept seeing women looking frantic whenever I was out and about smoking my pipe, but I feel better about it these days; it's just the way they are.
They would rather visit a clean bathroom in a howling pack of like minded individuals than make full use of their smoke break.
As there are so few sanitary facilities in the city, fewer of them smoke.
This is entirely logical.
I do not often think about the porcelain places. But when I do, I am likely to be in Chinatown. Where the toilet is for customers only.
I am a customer.
Where's the toilet?
洗手間喺邊度？
Sai sou gan hai pin dou?
It's through the kitchen at the back around the corner.
Of course, it helps if you understand the response. If you don't speak Cantonese, try Mandarin: 廁所在哪兒？"Cèsuǒ zài nǎ'r? ....."
It's still through the kitchen at the back around the corner, but this time in Mandarin.
If you're really desperate, try saying "唔該老板，有冇廁所啊嗎，我好急！"
A few days ago I decided to wash my hands before enjoying my flaky pastry and hot cup of milk-tea. While doing so I noticed that someone had written on the wall above the toilet.
To my surprise, it was something I knew by heart.
月落烏啼霜满天，江楓漁火對愁眠 ...
What kind of person scrawls two lines from an ancient poem on a crapper wall? It's baffling. There is no context for the verse in question either. 'The moon goes down, a crow caws, frost fills the sky; river maples and fisher lights match the worried drowse....' If any poem needed enscribing above a toilet bowl, surely there are others?
Yes, I realize that that is the one poem that probably everyone knows, having been forced to learn it in school, and it is one of the very first verses in the collection Three Hundred Poems of T'ang. If you were to ask me for an example of T'ang era quatrains, it would be the most likely one you would get. I memorized it half a lifetime ago. "Yuet lok, wu tai, seung mun tin; gong fung yu fo deui sau min ..."
But why that poem? And why there?
A quandary.
Other than that, it was an unremarkable crapper. If you go down the hallway to the kitchen, turn right and take the passage beyond the cooking range, it will be on your left. It's dark, use a match to find the light switch. The single window opens onto a small airwell in between the buildings. It is peaceful and quiet in the very centre of the block, the sound of the mahjong parlours in the alleyway on the other side does not penetrate.
Very old-fashioned, very atmospheric.
It is a timeless crapper.
Quite dreamy.
A different toilet elsewhere is down the stairs to the right, across the basement and up three steps. Men to the left, women to the right.
A very innocent Chinatown dungeon.
Also quiet. And clean.
Yet another one that I am familiar with is a narrow airles cube beyond a broom closet, with the noisiest fan you've ever heard. I'm sure the entire building shakes whenever someone has an urgent affair.
Night Mooring At Maple Bridge (楓橋夜泊 'fung kiu yeh pok') was written by Zhang Ji (張繼 'jeung kai') sometime during the mid eighth century, during a layover outside Suzhou (蘇州 'sou jau'). It was written after being woken from a fitfull sleep by distant clamorous temple bells. The wall upon which it was quickly penned was probably a similar off-white, but that is the only thing the Chinatown toilet and the dead poet's bedchamber have in common, and the bakery closes at six, so the very idea that someone was inspired by the marking of a late hour at Saint Mary's Cathedral on Grant and California three blocks away is rather extremely unlikely. Unless one of the owners had been out drinking, decided to proactively use the loo at his own establishment before heading home, and the clock struck just as he pulled out a pen.
I'm not going to ask.
月落烏啼霜满天，江楓漁火對愁眠，
姑蘇城外寒山寺，夜半鐘聲到客船。
Yuet lok, wu tai, seung mun tin; Gong fung yu fo deui sau min;
Gu sou seng ngoi hon saan ji; Ye pun jung seng dou haak suen.
Moon fall crow caw frost fill sky, river maple fisher fire match melancholy drowse.
Familar lichen city outside cold mountain court, night middle bell sound towards guest boat.
Suzhou is a very wet city.
Perhaps that's why.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Some women abstain from soft drinks, caffeinated beverages, milk shakes, cheap beer, and soup, for fear that the bladder might demand attention.
If you ever wondered why some of them have a pained look on their faces, now you know. It took me a while to realize why I kept seeing women looking frantic whenever I was out and about smoking my pipe, but I feel better about it these days; it's just the way they are.
They would rather visit a clean bathroom in a howling pack of like minded individuals than make full use of their smoke break.
As there are so few sanitary facilities in the city, fewer of them smoke.
This is entirely logical.
I do not often think about the porcelain places. But when I do, I am likely to be in Chinatown. Where the toilet is for customers only.
I am a customer.
Where's the toilet?
洗手間喺邊度？
Sai sou gan hai pin dou?
It's through the kitchen at the back around the corner.
Of course, it helps if you understand the response. If you don't speak Cantonese, try Mandarin: 廁所在哪兒？"Cèsuǒ zài nǎ'r? ....."
It's still through the kitchen at the back around the corner, but this time in Mandarin.
If you're really desperate, try saying "唔該老板，有冇廁所啊嗎，我好急！"
A few days ago I decided to wash my hands before enjoying my flaky pastry and hot cup of milk-tea. While doing so I noticed that someone had written on the wall above the toilet.
To my surprise, it was something I knew by heart.
月落烏啼霜满天，江楓漁火對愁眠 ...
What kind of person scrawls two lines from an ancient poem on a crapper wall? It's baffling. There is no context for the verse in question either. 'The moon goes down, a crow caws, frost fills the sky; river maples and fisher lights match the worried drowse....' If any poem needed enscribing above a toilet bowl, surely there are others?
Yes, I realize that that is the one poem that probably everyone knows, having been forced to learn it in school, and it is one of the very first verses in the collection Three Hundred Poems of T'ang. If you were to ask me for an example of T'ang era quatrains, it would be the most likely one you would get. I memorized it half a lifetime ago. "Yuet lok, wu tai, seung mun tin; gong fung yu fo deui sau min ..."
But why that poem? And why there?
A quandary.
Other than that, it was an unremarkable crapper. If you go down the hallway to the kitchen, turn right and take the passage beyond the cooking range, it will be on your left. It's dark, use a match to find the light switch. The single window opens onto a small airwell in between the buildings. It is peaceful and quiet in the very centre of the block, the sound of the mahjong parlours in the alleyway on the other side does not penetrate.
Very old-fashioned, very atmospheric.
It is a timeless crapper.
Quite dreamy.
A different toilet elsewhere is down the stairs to the right, across the basement and up three steps. Men to the left, women to the right.
A very innocent Chinatown dungeon.
Also quiet. And clean.
Yet another one that I am familiar with is a narrow airles cube beyond a broom closet, with the noisiest fan you've ever heard. I'm sure the entire building shakes whenever someone has an urgent affair.
Night Mooring At Maple Bridge (楓橋夜泊 'fung kiu yeh pok') was written by Zhang Ji (張繼 'jeung kai') sometime during the mid eighth century, during a layover outside Suzhou (蘇州 'sou jau'). It was written after being woken from a fitfull sleep by distant clamorous temple bells. The wall upon which it was quickly penned was probably a similar off-white, but that is the only thing the Chinatown toilet and the dead poet's bedchamber have in common, and the bakery closes at six, so the very idea that someone was inspired by the marking of a late hour at Saint Mary's Cathedral on Grant and California three blocks away is rather extremely unlikely. Unless one of the owners had been out drinking, decided to proactively use the loo at his own establishment before heading home, and the clock struck just as he pulled out a pen.
I'm not going to ask.
月落烏啼霜满天，江楓漁火對愁眠，
姑蘇城外寒山寺，夜半鐘聲到客船。
Yuet lok, wu tai, seung mun tin; Gong fung yu fo deui sau min;
Gu sou seng ngoi hon saan ji; Ye pun jung seng dou haak suen.
Moon fall crow caw frost fill sky, river maple fisher fire match melancholy drowse.
Familar lichen city outside cold mountain court, night middle bell sound towards guest boat.
Suzhou is a very wet city.
Perhaps that's why.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Wednesday, November 05, 2014
ANATOMICAL MORPHOLOGY, VARIANCES, AND TOLERANCE
Judging by the popular posts recently, my readers are evenly distributed among tobacco fiends, food mavens, and sex-obsessed cretins of either gender. On second thought, that may just be me, seeing as they're only visiting here, but I'm the author of the articles that they found.
My material met their search criteria.
They found dim sum, pipe tobacco, and breasts. As well as a somewhat bitter essay I wrote several years back about how white people are regarded by the Cantonese: The White Devil.
If I had to pick three things I could not live without on a deserted island, it would almost certainly be nice Cantonese tea-house snackies, good leaf to stuff into my pipes, and breasts.
All three of these more or less imply the presence of other people, so it's actually a way of saying that I am a social being. Dim sum is best enjoyed with a group, pipe smoking is a very civilized habit, and breasts can be absolutely wonderful, but ONLY if they're someone else's.
And absolutely not if they're part of a man.
At least, not to me. I am a man.
I do not fondle my own chest.
It just wouldn't feel right.
RIGHT
The other day, underneath the recent breast article, someone suggested that I was "trying to appear non-sexist and sensitive", and failing at that attempt. Which was a bolt out of nowhere, as I consider myself a typical heterosexual breast-obsessed male, which almost by definition means sexist, and when not actually speaking to a person of the other gender, insensitive.
The problem is finding a breast-bearing person to whom one can speak. Most of my exchanges with the female of the species are commercial in nature. For instance: "I should like to have a flaky charsiu roll and some hot milk-tea." "Including tax, that comes to such-and-such an amount." "I am allergic to bananas, these are for my apartment mate."
Dim sum is within easy reach, and a not in-frequent indulgence, albeit alone. Pipe tobacco consumption is on a daily basis, and frequently prompts the comment that someone's father, grand uncle, favourite elderly eccentric, a long-dead college professor, or a relative from a past so distant it might as well be Moses and the Apostles or whatever ALSO smoked a pipe, and I remind the cretins of either gender of him. Gee thanks. I am flattered. You must have loved the cavemen.
Breasts have been entirely a non-occurrence for several years now.
But I will confess that I think about them on a daily basis.
As do most men, whether or not they have any.
Evenso, discussing mammaries with other men is, usually, an exercise in miscommunication. It turns out that everyone has such a vastly different conceptualization of the breast-gestalt that there's just not enough overlap for meaningful exchanges of opinion.
And that's before you even get to the nipples.
Worth an entire blogpost of their own.
[Or mentioning over pastries!]
LEFT
The Wikipedia article about breasts is fascinating.
Quote:
The morphologic variations in the size, shape, volume, tissue density, pectoral locale, and spacing of the breasts determine their natural shape, appearance, and configuration upon the chest of a woman; yet such features do not indicate its mammary-gland composition (fat-to-milk-gland ratio), nor the potential for nursing an infant child.
End quote.
That right there is priceless literature.
So evocative.
Quote:
In the high-breast configuration, the dome-shaped and the cone-shaped breast is affixed to the chest at the base, and the weight is evenly distributed over the base area. In the low-breast configuration, a proportion of the breast weight is supported by the chest, against which rests the lower surface of the breast, thus is formed the inframammary fold (IMF). Because the base is deeply affixed to the chest, the weight of the breast is distributed over a greater area, and so reduces the weight-bearing strain upon the chest, shoulder, and back muscles that bear the weight of the bust.
End quote.
No wonder so many men go into architecture and engineering; profound structural issues that are illustrated in that passage! Weight distribution, spacing and support, angles of projection, buttressing, reinforced concrete, and insulation.
But what really boggles the mind is variance!
Quote:
For about 5% to 10% (of) women, their breasts are severely different, with the left breast being larger in 62% of cases. This is due to the breast proximity to the heart and a greater number of arteries and veins, along with a protective layer of fat surrounding the heart located beneath it. Up to 25% of women experience notable breast asymmetry of at least one cup size difference.
End quote.
I did not know that.
That alone is worth the price of admission.
Further investigation is required.
I love science.
I would love to discuss this over dim sum, or while I am smoking a pipe afterwards. You will find me a sensitive (and sensible) interlocutor.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
My material met their search criteria.
They found dim sum, pipe tobacco, and breasts. As well as a somewhat bitter essay I wrote several years back about how white people are regarded by the Cantonese: The White Devil.
If I had to pick three things I could not live without on a deserted island, it would almost certainly be nice Cantonese tea-house snackies, good leaf to stuff into my pipes, and breasts.
All three of these more or less imply the presence of other people, so it's actually a way of saying that I am a social being. Dim sum is best enjoyed with a group, pipe smoking is a very civilized habit, and breasts can be absolutely wonderful, but ONLY if they're someone else's.
And absolutely not if they're part of a man.
At least, not to me. I am a man.
I do not fondle my own chest.
It just wouldn't feel right.
RIGHT
The other day, underneath the recent breast article, someone suggested that I was "trying to appear non-sexist and sensitive", and failing at that attempt. Which was a bolt out of nowhere, as I consider myself a typical heterosexual breast-obsessed male, which almost by definition means sexist, and when not actually speaking to a person of the other gender, insensitive.
The problem is finding a breast-bearing person to whom one can speak. Most of my exchanges with the female of the species are commercial in nature. For instance: "I should like to have a flaky charsiu roll and some hot milk-tea." "Including tax, that comes to such-and-such an amount." "I am allergic to bananas, these are for my apartment mate."
Dim sum is within easy reach, and a not in-frequent indulgence, albeit alone. Pipe tobacco consumption is on a daily basis, and frequently prompts the comment that someone's father, grand uncle, favourite elderly eccentric, a long-dead college professor, or a relative from a past so distant it might as well be Moses and the Apostles or whatever ALSO smoked a pipe, and I remind the cretins of either gender of him. Gee thanks. I am flattered. You must have loved the cavemen.
Breasts have been entirely a non-occurrence for several years now.
But I will confess that I think about them on a daily basis.
As do most men, whether or not they have any.
Evenso, discussing mammaries with other men is, usually, an exercise in miscommunication. It turns out that everyone has such a vastly different conceptualization of the breast-gestalt that there's just not enough overlap for meaningful exchanges of opinion.
And that's before you even get to the nipples.
Worth an entire blogpost of their own.
[Or mentioning over pastries!]
LEFT
The Wikipedia article about breasts is fascinating.
Quote:
The morphologic variations in the size, shape, volume, tissue density, pectoral locale, and spacing of the breasts determine their natural shape, appearance, and configuration upon the chest of a woman; yet such features do not indicate its mammary-gland composition (fat-to-milk-gland ratio), nor the potential for nursing an infant child.
End quote.
That right there is priceless literature.
So evocative.
Quote:
In the high-breast configuration, the dome-shaped and the cone-shaped breast is affixed to the chest at the base, and the weight is evenly distributed over the base area. In the low-breast configuration, a proportion of the breast weight is supported by the chest, against which rests the lower surface of the breast, thus is formed the inframammary fold (IMF). Because the base is deeply affixed to the chest, the weight of the breast is distributed over a greater area, and so reduces the weight-bearing strain upon the chest, shoulder, and back muscles that bear the weight of the bust.
End quote.
No wonder so many men go into architecture and engineering; profound structural issues that are illustrated in that passage! Weight distribution, spacing and support, angles of projection, buttressing, reinforced concrete, and insulation.
But what really boggles the mind is variance!
Quote:
For about 5% to 10% (of) women, their breasts are severely different, with the left breast being larger in 62% of cases. This is due to the breast proximity to the heart and a greater number of arteries and veins, along with a protective layer of fat surrounding the heart located beneath it. Up to 25% of women experience notable breast asymmetry of at least one cup size difference.
End quote.
I did not know that.
That alone is worth the price of admission.
Further investigation is required.
I love science.
I would love to discuss this over dim sum, or while I am smoking a pipe afterwards. You will find me a sensitive (and sensible) interlocutor.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
MEAT DRYING IN THE WIND: LAAP YIUK
One of the things people do in Autumn is slaughter the fat hog and feast on the meat. As well as preserve it, pickle it, make sausages, or cure it.
A preparation you won't see in most delicatessens, however, is the dark fatty pork that Cantonese people favour.
Possibly because non-Chinese look askance at it, not knowing what it is or that it is utterly delicious.
Cured pork belly can be bought all over Chinatown, but if you live in the fly-overs, you should make it at home.
臘肉 PRESERVED MEAT
['laap yiuk']
One pound fresh pork belly, cut inch thick strips.
Four TBS sugar.
Four TBS vodka.
Two TBS soy sauce.
Two TBS hot water.
Half TBS salt.
Generous pinch of five spice powder.
Quarter tsp. Prague Powder No. 2 (*).
[* Prague Powder No. 2 contains 6.75% sodium nitrite, 4.00% sodium nitrate, 89.25 sodium chloride.]
Whisk all ingredients other than the pork together. Prick the meat thoroughly with a fork, put it into a Ziploc bag, add the liquids. Put this in the refrigerator. At least once a day agitate and turn, to make sure all of the meat is exposed to the cure. After five days take it out, poke a hole into one end of each piece of meat, and hang it in a windy location. It takes between one and two weeks before it is ready. It will keep a long time, more so if left in a cool dry place. After cutting it is best to refrigerate it and use it fairly quickly.
It can be eaten sliced thin and uncooked, but the orthodox approach is to cut it into chunks and add it to vegetable dishes before simmering or steaming, hence the strong flavours in the marinade.
[Freezing meat is not an effective measure against trichinosis, but cooking is.]
Understand that the quantities of sugar and soy sauce can be reduced by as much as half -- some people like a milder taste -- but that the proportions of salt and Prague Powder should not be messed with.
Prague Powder No. 2 keeps meat rosy and prevents botulism; you don't want botulism. Standard minimum amounts are one teaspoon Prague powder No. 2 with five pounds of meat.
It also inhibits mold.
偶見的烹飪後記 OPPORTUNE CULINARY AFTERWORD
['ngau-kin dik paang-yam hau-gei']
You can find mixed vegies in a clay pot (雜菜煲 'sap choi pou') with noodles at several places, which is a very satisfying one-dish meal for a single diner. Often this has a savoury item added; I like to make it with fried tofu cubes and cured pork belly, so it isn't anything a vegetarian would eat.
Heat up a clay pot (沙鍋，煲仔 'saa wo', 'pou jai'. Add oil, followed by sliced ginger (薑片 'geung pin'). Stir, add sliced rehumidified dried mushrooms (香菇 'heung gu'). After a brief moment pour in some sherry (雪利酒 'suet lei jau') or rice wine (花雕 'faa diu') to sizzle, add the chunks of fried tofu (炸豆腐 'jaa dau fu') and cubed cured pork. Dump in a bunch of chopped yau choi (油菜), add stock (高湯 'gou tong') and water, set it on a low heat for five to ten minutes. Put in either rice stick noodles (沙河粉 'saa-ho fan') or thick wheat noodles (關廟拉麵 'gwaan-miu laai min'). Cook a few minutes more, so that the noodles soften. If you let it sit for a short while after turning off the heat the noodles will absorb some of the liquid.
Note: both 沙河 ('saa ho'; "sand river") and 關廟 ('gwaan-miu'; "Lord Kwan's temple") are regionymics. The first is in Guangzhou, the second in southern Taiwan.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
A preparation you won't see in most delicatessens, however, is the dark fatty pork that Cantonese people favour.
Possibly because non-Chinese look askance at it, not knowing what it is or that it is utterly delicious.
Cured pork belly can be bought all over Chinatown, but if you live in the fly-overs, you should make it at home.
臘肉 PRESERVED MEAT
['laap yiuk']
One pound fresh pork belly, cut inch thick strips.
Four TBS sugar.
Four TBS vodka.
Two TBS soy sauce.
Two TBS hot water.
Half TBS salt.
Generous pinch of five spice powder.
Quarter tsp. Prague Powder No. 2 (*).
[* Prague Powder No. 2 contains 6.75% sodium nitrite, 4.00% sodium nitrate, 89.25 sodium chloride.]
Whisk all ingredients other than the pork together. Prick the meat thoroughly with a fork, put it into a Ziploc bag, add the liquids. Put this in the refrigerator. At least once a day agitate and turn, to make sure all of the meat is exposed to the cure. After five days take it out, poke a hole into one end of each piece of meat, and hang it in a windy location. It takes between one and two weeks before it is ready. It will keep a long time, more so if left in a cool dry place. After cutting it is best to refrigerate it and use it fairly quickly.
It can be eaten sliced thin and uncooked, but the orthodox approach is to cut it into chunks and add it to vegetable dishes before simmering or steaming, hence the strong flavours in the marinade.
[Freezing meat is not an effective measure against trichinosis, but cooking is.]
Understand that the quantities of sugar and soy sauce can be reduced by as much as half -- some people like a milder taste -- but that the proportions of salt and Prague Powder should not be messed with.
Prague Powder No. 2 keeps meat rosy and prevents botulism; you don't want botulism. Standard minimum amounts are one teaspoon Prague powder No. 2 with five pounds of meat.
It also inhibits mold.
偶見的烹飪後記 OPPORTUNE CULINARY AFTERWORD
['ngau-kin dik paang-yam hau-gei']
You can find mixed vegies in a clay pot (雜菜煲 'sap choi pou') with noodles at several places, which is a very satisfying one-dish meal for a single diner. Often this has a savoury item added; I like to make it with fried tofu cubes and cured pork belly, so it isn't anything a vegetarian would eat.
Heat up a clay pot (沙鍋，煲仔 'saa wo', 'pou jai'. Add oil, followed by sliced ginger (薑片 'geung pin'). Stir, add sliced rehumidified dried mushrooms (香菇 'heung gu'). After a brief moment pour in some sherry (雪利酒 'suet lei jau') or rice wine (花雕 'faa diu') to sizzle, add the chunks of fried tofu (炸豆腐 'jaa dau fu') and cubed cured pork. Dump in a bunch of chopped yau choi (油菜), add stock (高湯 'gou tong') and water, set it on a low heat for five to ten minutes. Put in either rice stick noodles (沙河粉 'saa-ho fan') or thick wheat noodles (關廟拉麵 'gwaan-miu laai min'). Cook a few minutes more, so that the noodles soften. If you let it sit for a short while after turning off the heat the noodles will absorb some of the liquid.
Note: both 沙河 ('saa ho'; "sand river") and 關廟 ('gwaan-miu'; "Lord Kwan's temple") are regionymics. The first is in Guangzhou, the second in southern Taiwan.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Tuesday, November 04, 2014
THE OATMEAL IS FOR OAFS
Remarkably, I had never heard of The Oatmeal until someone sent me a link. It turns out that the artist who draws that cartoon worships the very ground that Nikola Tesla walks upon. Or is buried in, whatever. Tesla has been dead for years.
Tesla, you will recall, passed away in 1943.
The friend who sent me the link fully expected me to become an instant fan. He wrote: "Matt Inman is your kind of geek; witty, incisive, and informed!"
Uh. Well. Okay.
Hate to bust your bubble. He isn't my kind of geek. Geeks are dildo-heads. The Oatmeal appeals to that audience. Primarily to them, and only to them. For most of my life I have avoided dildos (although I do admit that they are strangely fascinating to pet cats), considering them on par with cell-phones and other fancy electronic toys. Nice to have if you can find a use for it, but do you really want to carry one around in public?
Build a better dildo, and the world will beat a mouse to death with it.
It's no wonder that cats are enchanted by them.
I do not own a cat.
I read the Wikipedia article on Nikola Tesla.
There is no evidence that he had a cat.
Which does NOT surprise me.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Tesla, you will recall, passed away in 1943.
The friend who sent me the link fully expected me to become an instant fan. He wrote: "Matt Inman is your kind of geek; witty, incisive, and informed!"
Uh. Well. Okay.
Hate to bust your bubble. He isn't my kind of geek. Geeks are dildo-heads. The Oatmeal appeals to that audience. Primarily to them, and only to them. For most of my life I have avoided dildos (although I do admit that they are strangely fascinating to pet cats), considering them on par with cell-phones and other fancy electronic toys. Nice to have if you can find a use for it, but do you really want to carry one around in public?
Build a better dildo, and the world will beat a mouse to death with it.
It's no wonder that cats are enchanted by them.
I do not own a cat.
I read the Wikipedia article on Nikola Tesla.
There is no evidence that he had a cat.
Which does NOT surprise me.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
EAT WELL AND SMELL GOOD
Please note: the following is not only a suggestion for an early morning jaunt along the lower level on Hong Kong Island, it is also an illustration (between parentheses) of the Chinese language's difficulty making any sense at all of English-language toponyms.
As well as our problems when we try to translate Chinese.
西遊記 JOURNEY TO THE WEST
['sai yau gei']
It's a two hour stroll at least from the Admiralty in Central to Belcher Street in Kennedy Town (堅彌地城 'gin nei dei seng'; "resolute fulfilled earth town"). But you can also take the double decker tram. Far less time. Never the less walk at least part of the way, as otherwise you will miss some rather interesting stuff.
Kennedy Town (堅彌地城) is part of the western district (西環 'sai waan':"west ring"), which also includes Sai Ying Pun (西營盤 "western military basin"), Shek Tong Tsui (石塘嘴 "stone pond beak"), and Belcher Bay (卑路乍灣 'pei lou jaa waan'; "vulgar road previously bay").
A long time ago Shek Tong Tsui was filled with restaurants, music halls, and bordellos (花樓 'faa lou'), of which alas (or perhaps 'fortunately') very little remains. The 1987 film Rouge (胭脂扣 'yin ji kou') with Anita Mui (梅艷芳 'mui yim fong') and Leslie Cheung (張國榮 'cheung gwok wing') was set there.
Like that era, these two stellar movie actors are now also part of the fabled past; both of them left this world in 2003.
That wasn't a good year.
Belcher's Street (卑路乍街 'bei lou ja kaai') is one of the main streets in Kennedy Town. The Kwong Sang Tea Company (established in 1936) used to be at number 24.
[廣生茶行有限公司；香港，堅尼地城，卑路乍街24號。
Current address: 香港西環卑路乍街38號天成工業大厦5/F。
Tea packers and exporters, 成立于1936.]
參茸藥區 HERBAL PRODUCTS DISTRICT
['sam yung yuek keui']
From the Admiralty (金鐘 'kam jung'; "gold bell") take Chater road (遮打道 'je daa dou'; "protect hit r.") to Central (中環 'jung waan'), where it becomes Des Voeux Road (德輔道 'dak fu dou'; "virtue assist r."). Follow Des Voeux to Wing Lok Street (永樂街 'wing lok kaai'; "forever glad s."), which splits off at Wing Wo Street (永和街 'wing wo kaai', "perpetual harmony s." where there are a large number of places selling swallows nest (燕窩 'yin wo'). At the intersection of Morrison Street (摩利臣街 'mo lei san kaai': "rub profitable minister s.") turn left, less than twenty yards to Bonham Strand (文咸街 'man haam kaai'; "literature alltogether s."), take Bonham Strand around the corner left to where Wing Lok continues. At the end of Wing Lok, around the curve of Des Voeux West (德輔道西) at Queen Street, there are hoi mei stores (海味 "sea flavour"; dried ocean products), sharkfin (魚翅 'yü chi') shops, and raw rice (米 'mai') dealers.
Continue along Des Voeux.
There's an incense company of antique provenance on the right hand side, surrounded by herbalists and dried seafood shops. They're a century-old brand (百年老字號 'baak nin lou ji hou'; "hundred year old word mark").
梁永馨香廠 (香港) 有限公司
"Leung's Eternal Fragrance (HK) Co.,Ltd."
['leung wing hing heung chong (heung kong) yau haan gung si']
梁永馨名香
Leung Wing Hing Joss Sticks
101 Des Voeux Road West, ground floor.
香港，德輔道西，101號，地下。
Informational interstice: The complex character 馨 is seldom used in modern speech. Originally it represented a dialect variation on 香 meaning what the nose took note of, later its connotations expanded to include the faintest trace of perfume, a lingering smell that prompts memories, aroma-echoes that make one recollect, and similar shades of meaning. It's a twenty stroke character found in the dictionary under 香 with a score of other characters under that radical. But twenty strokes means that it is harder to write correctly in the same size as your other words, and like many such logoglyphs, merely the great chance of leaving an illegible blob in the column made it fade from use. A pity, because it's very elegant .
Two other words with fragrant meanings are 芬 ('fan'; "fragrance, aromatic substance") and 芳 ('fong'; "fragrant, virtuous, lovely"). Both terms might have applied to the lovely plumes or fresh green boughs offered in the altar vessel which forms the bottom of 豐 ('fung'; "abundant, lush, fertile"), which at nineteen strokes remarkably shows up far more often than 馨。
Perhaps it's just more useful.
熏香品類 INCENSE TYPES:
['fan heung pan leui']
西澳洲檀香 ('sai ou jau taan heung'): West Australia sandal wood
百福塔香正宗柏香2H座 ('baak fuk taap heung jeng-jung baak heung leung-go jungtau jo'): Hundred Lucky Pagoda authentic cypress/cedar two hour coils.
天然老山檀香 ('tin yin lou saan taan heung'): Heavenly ('natural') Old Mountain sandalwood incense.
天然特級老山檀香 ('tin yin tak kap lou saan taan heung'): Heavenly Superior Quality sandalwood incense.
沉香 ('cham heung'): Agar wood incense.
Et autres.
Phone numbers: (852) 2548 2340 / (852) 2547 9277
Fax. :(852) 2559 5634
Internet: www.yp.com.hk/leungwinghing and www.leungwinghing.com.hk
Email: info@leungwinghing.com.hk
You can also get there by double-decker tram. If you don't want to walk a lot on a warm day.
The road bends at Wing Wah Mansion apartment building (永華大廈 'wing waa taai haa'; "eternal China big edifice"). When it goes around the corner further on, follow it to Queens Road West (皇后大道西 'wong hau daai dou sai'), up about thirty yards, turn right onto Belcher Street.
This is a heavily populated neighborhood, and you shouldn't expect too many English signs, despite the overwhelming surfeit of international brandnames and Seven Elevens.
冇乜特別，香脆，味都幾好。
NOTHING SPECIAL, FRAGRANT AND CRISPY, TASTES PRETTY GOOD
['mou ye dak bit, heung cheui, mei dou gei ho']
Convenience stores, small shops, and places where you can eat congee (粥 'juk') or roast duck rice (燒鴨飯 'siu ngaap faan'). Fishballs and dumplings too. The Fresh Fragrance Tea Restaurant (鮮香茶餐廳 'sin heung chaa chanteng') and Fish Ball King & Genuine Teochow Rice-sticks (港仔君豪魚蛋王 -- 正宗潮州粉面 'gong jai gwan hou yü daan wong jeng jung chiu jau fan min'), Kuen Gei Wonton Noodle (權記雲吞麵 "authority notation cloud gulp noodle")
You could also have the stirfried augmented kangkong (炒通菜 'chaau tung choi') and the mixed balls clay pot (什丸煲 'sap yuen pou'), with a nice glass of hot lemon tea (熱檸茶 'yit ning chaa').
Breakfast of champions.
Not expensive.
牛脷酥, 炸兩 ('ngau lei sou'. 'jaa leung') space alien cheap snack: "Cow tongue flaky", an oval semi-sweet fried puff bread (good with congee) and "fry two" (a fried dough stick steamed in a rice noodle sheet, drizzled with soy sauce, hoisin jeung, chive or scallion garnished, cut into chunks you can eat with a toothpick. Sometimes jaa leung is also served with a squirt of ketchup and yellow mustard, which is also good.
茶餐廳 ('chaa chan teng') tea-restaurants: Old-fashioned HK western style breakfast lunch and late afternoon foods. Fried eggs, noodle dishes, chicken soup macaroni with ham. Convenient easy food. Sate beef noodles (沙爹牛肉麵 'saa de ngau yiuk min'). Famous milk-tea (奶茶 'naai chaa') and kai mei bao (雞尾包"chicken arse bun").
Places filled with old geezers.
潮州菜 ('chiu jau choi') Chaozhou food: There are only two real reasons to seek out a Chaozhou style eatery: roast goose, and shellfish. The roast goose is brined before cooking, the shellfish (clams and oysters) are generously apportioned, nicely cooked.
Especially try oyster omelette.
潮州名食 CHAOZHOU'S FAMOUS FOODS:
['chiu jau ming sik']
脆皮糯米釀大腸 ('cheui pei no mai yeung daai cheung'): Crispy skinned glutinous rice ferments pork sausage. Fried a golden brown, then sliced across for chopstickable ease.
蟹粥 ('haai juk'): Crab congee (whole grains, unlike Cantonese style).
墨魚卷 ('mak yü kuen'): Cuttle fish nuggets.
墨魚片 ('mak yu pin'): Cuttle fish slices.
滷水鵝片 ('lou seui ngo pin'): Brine-cured (savoury sauced) goose slices.
豉椒炒蜆 ('si jiu chaau hin'): Bellpepper and black bean clams.
避風塘炒蜆 ('bei fung tong chaau hin'): Typhoon shelter stirfry clams with crispy-fried garlic and chilies.
鵝肝 ('ngo gon'): Goose liver.
香酥芋鴨 ('heung sou wu ngaap'): Taro batter crispy duck.
韭菜炒鹹肉 ('gau choi chaau haam yiuk'): Chives stirfried with Chinese bacon.
胡椒豬肚湯 ('wu jiu chyu tou tong'): Pepper pork stomach soup. Everyone raves about this; I don't.
闊面蠔餅, 炸蠔仔餅 ('fut min hou bing', 'jaa hou-chai bing'): The oyster omelette. Chiu chow style is thicker and denser than Hokkien, more like an egg-batter fritata.
糖醋麵 ('tong chou min'): Sweet and sour ("sugar - vinegar") noodles, panfried to a crispy cake.
魚湯浸豆苗 ('yü tong jam dau miu'): Fish-broth poached pea shoots.
Now that Hong Kong is so densely populated, sandalwood is no longer shipped out from the jetty over in Tsimshatsui, and the raw material for incense is imported from places like Vietnam, Cambodia, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Australia. But 'fragrance' (incense) gave the place its name, and it still seems a very apt appellation.
Food. Tea. Commerce.
Warm.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
As well as our problems when we try to translate Chinese.
西遊記 JOURNEY TO THE WEST
['sai yau gei']
It's a two hour stroll at least from the Admiralty in Central to Belcher Street in Kennedy Town (堅彌地城 'gin nei dei seng'; "resolute fulfilled earth town"). But you can also take the double decker tram. Far less time. Never the less walk at least part of the way, as otherwise you will miss some rather interesting stuff.
Kennedy Town (堅彌地城) is part of the western district (西環 'sai waan':"west ring"), which also includes Sai Ying Pun (西營盤 "western military basin"), Shek Tong Tsui (石塘嘴 "stone pond beak"), and Belcher Bay (卑路乍灣 'pei lou jaa waan'; "vulgar road previously bay").
A long time ago Shek Tong Tsui was filled with restaurants, music halls, and bordellos (花樓 'faa lou'), of which alas (or perhaps 'fortunately') very little remains. The 1987 film Rouge (胭脂扣 'yin ji kou') with Anita Mui (梅艷芳 'mui yim fong') and Leslie Cheung (張國榮 'cheung gwok wing') was set there.
Like that era, these two stellar movie actors are now also part of the fabled past; both of them left this world in 2003.
That wasn't a good year.
Belcher's Street (卑路乍街 'bei lou ja kaai') is one of the main streets in Kennedy Town. The Kwong Sang Tea Company (established in 1936) used to be at number 24.
[廣生茶行有限公司；香港，堅尼地城，卑路乍街24號。
Current address: 香港西環卑路乍街38號天成工業大厦5/F。
Tea packers and exporters, 成立于1936.]
參茸藥區 HERBAL PRODUCTS DISTRICT
['sam yung yuek keui']
From the Admiralty (金鐘 'kam jung'; "gold bell") take Chater road (遮打道 'je daa dou'; "protect hit r.") to Central (中環 'jung waan'), where it becomes Des Voeux Road (德輔道 'dak fu dou'; "virtue assist r."). Follow Des Voeux to Wing Lok Street (永樂街 'wing lok kaai'; "forever glad s."), which splits off at Wing Wo Street (永和街 'wing wo kaai', "perpetual harmony s." where there are a large number of places selling swallows nest (燕窩 'yin wo'). At the intersection of Morrison Street (摩利臣街 'mo lei san kaai': "rub profitable minister s.") turn left, less than twenty yards to Bonham Strand (文咸街 'man haam kaai'; "literature alltogether s."), take Bonham Strand around the corner left to where Wing Lok continues. At the end of Wing Lok, around the curve of Des Voeux West (德輔道西) at Queen Street, there are hoi mei stores (海味 "sea flavour"; dried ocean products), sharkfin (魚翅 'yü chi') shops, and raw rice (米 'mai') dealers.
Continue along Des Voeux.
There's an incense company of antique provenance on the right hand side, surrounded by herbalists and dried seafood shops. They're a century-old brand (百年老字號 'baak nin lou ji hou'; "hundred year old word mark").
梁永馨香廠 (香港) 有限公司
"Leung's Eternal Fragrance (HK) Co.,Ltd."
['leung wing hing heung chong (heung kong) yau haan gung si']
梁永馨名香
Leung Wing Hing Joss Sticks
101 Des Voeux Road West, ground floor.
香港，德輔道西，101號，地下。
Informational interstice: The complex character 馨 is seldom used in modern speech. Originally it represented a dialect variation on 香 meaning what the nose took note of, later its connotations expanded to include the faintest trace of perfume, a lingering smell that prompts memories, aroma-echoes that make one recollect, and similar shades of meaning. It's a twenty stroke character found in the dictionary under 香 with a score of other characters under that radical. But twenty strokes means that it is harder to write correctly in the same size as your other words, and like many such logoglyphs, merely the great chance of leaving an illegible blob in the column made it fade from use. A pity, because it's very elegant .
Two other words with fragrant meanings are 芬 ('fan'; "fragrance, aromatic substance") and 芳 ('fong'; "fragrant, virtuous, lovely"). Both terms might have applied to the lovely plumes or fresh green boughs offered in the altar vessel which forms the bottom of 豐 ('fung'; "abundant, lush, fertile"), which at nineteen strokes remarkably shows up far more often than 馨。
Perhaps it's just more useful.
熏香品類 INCENSE TYPES:
['fan heung pan leui']
西澳洲檀香 ('sai ou jau taan heung'): West Australia sandal wood
百福塔香正宗柏香2H座 ('baak fuk taap heung jeng-jung baak heung leung-go jungtau jo'): Hundred Lucky Pagoda authentic cypress/cedar two hour coils.
天然老山檀香 ('tin yin lou saan taan heung'): Heavenly ('natural') Old Mountain sandalwood incense.
天然特級老山檀香 ('tin yin tak kap lou saan taan heung'): Heavenly Superior Quality sandalwood incense.
沉香 ('cham heung'): Agar wood incense.
Et autres.
Phone numbers: (852) 2548 2340 / (852) 2547 9277
Fax. :(852) 2559 5634
Internet: www.yp.com.hk/leungwinghing and www.leungwinghing.com.hk
Email: info@leungwinghing.com.hk
You can also get there by double-decker tram. If you don't want to walk a lot on a warm day.
The road bends at Wing Wah Mansion apartment building (永華大廈 'wing waa taai haa'; "eternal China big edifice"). When it goes around the corner further on, follow it to Queens Road West (皇后大道西 'wong hau daai dou sai'), up about thirty yards, turn right onto Belcher Street.
This is a heavily populated neighborhood, and you shouldn't expect too many English signs, despite the overwhelming surfeit of international brandnames and Seven Elevens.
冇乜特別，香脆，味都幾好。
NOTHING SPECIAL, FRAGRANT AND CRISPY, TASTES PRETTY GOOD
['mou ye dak bit, heung cheui, mei dou gei ho']
Convenience stores, small shops, and places where you can eat congee (粥 'juk') or roast duck rice (燒鴨飯 'siu ngaap faan'). Fishballs and dumplings too. The Fresh Fragrance Tea Restaurant (鮮香茶餐廳 'sin heung chaa chanteng') and Fish Ball King & Genuine Teochow Rice-sticks (港仔君豪魚蛋王 -- 正宗潮州粉面 'gong jai gwan hou yü daan wong jeng jung chiu jau fan min'), Kuen Gei Wonton Noodle (權記雲吞麵 "authority notation cloud gulp noodle")
You could also have the stirfried augmented kangkong (炒通菜 'chaau tung choi') and the mixed balls clay pot (什丸煲 'sap yuen pou'), with a nice glass of hot lemon tea (熱檸茶 'yit ning chaa').
Breakfast of champions.
Not expensive.
牛脷酥, 炸兩 ('ngau lei sou'. 'jaa leung') space alien cheap snack: "Cow tongue flaky", an oval semi-sweet fried puff bread (good with congee) and "fry two" (a fried dough stick steamed in a rice noodle sheet, drizzled with soy sauce, hoisin jeung, chive or scallion garnished, cut into chunks you can eat with a toothpick. Sometimes jaa leung is also served with a squirt of ketchup and yellow mustard, which is also good.
茶餐廳 ('chaa chan teng') tea-restaurants: Old-fashioned HK western style breakfast lunch and late afternoon foods. Fried eggs, noodle dishes, chicken soup macaroni with ham. Convenient easy food. Sate beef noodles (沙爹牛肉麵 'saa de ngau yiuk min'). Famous milk-tea (奶茶 'naai chaa') and kai mei bao (雞尾包"chicken arse bun").
Places filled with old geezers.
潮州菜 ('chiu jau choi') Chaozhou food: There are only two real reasons to seek out a Chaozhou style eatery: roast goose, and shellfish. The roast goose is brined before cooking, the shellfish (clams and oysters) are generously apportioned, nicely cooked.
Especially try oyster omelette.
潮州名食 CHAOZHOU'S FAMOUS FOODS:
['chiu jau ming sik']
脆皮糯米釀大腸 ('cheui pei no mai yeung daai cheung'): Crispy skinned glutinous rice ferments pork sausage. Fried a golden brown, then sliced across for chopstickable ease.
蟹粥 ('haai juk'): Crab congee (whole grains, unlike Cantonese style).
墨魚卷 ('mak yü kuen'): Cuttle fish nuggets.
墨魚片 ('mak yu pin'): Cuttle fish slices.
滷水鵝片 ('lou seui ngo pin'): Brine-cured (savoury sauced) goose slices.
豉椒炒蜆 ('si jiu chaau hin'): Bellpepper and black bean clams.
避風塘炒蜆 ('bei fung tong chaau hin'): Typhoon shelter stirfry clams with crispy-fried garlic and chilies.
鵝肝 ('ngo gon'): Goose liver.
香酥芋鴨 ('heung sou wu ngaap'): Taro batter crispy duck.
韭菜炒鹹肉 ('gau choi chaau haam yiuk'): Chives stirfried with Chinese bacon.
胡椒豬肚湯 ('wu jiu chyu tou tong'): Pepper pork stomach soup. Everyone raves about this; I don't.
闊面蠔餅, 炸蠔仔餅 ('fut min hou bing', 'jaa hou-chai bing'): The oyster omelette. Chiu chow style is thicker and denser than Hokkien, more like an egg-batter fritata.
糖醋麵 ('tong chou min'): Sweet and sour ("sugar - vinegar") noodles, panfried to a crispy cake.
魚湯浸豆苗 ('yü tong jam dau miu'): Fish-broth poached pea shoots.
Now that Hong Kong is so densely populated, sandalwood is no longer shipped out from the jetty over in Tsimshatsui, and the raw material for incense is imported from places like Vietnam, Cambodia, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Australia. But 'fragrance' (incense) gave the place its name, and it still seems a very apt appellation.
Food. Tea. Commerce.
Warm.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Monday, November 03, 2014
THERE'S TOXIC WASTE IN MY SWAMP
While I spent all day in Marin, in the distinctly un-gentle company of cigar smokers, my ex-girlfriend stayed at home engaging in what she euphemistically calls "sleep bleeding". Rather than detailing what that precisely is -- because some of my male readers are uber-sensitive individuals -- I shall merely say that Aunt Flo visited.
As she does once a month.
This is something I would like to have happen to the cigar smokers in Marin. Instead, they enjoyed a nice sportive show on television, and many curse words were uttered. Not sure if I should call that "fun", as watching a ball game on the boob tube is a far worse trial than any amount of "sleep bleeding", but those freaks thoroughly enjoyed it.
I tried to drown out their insane shouting by running the buffing wheels all afternoon, restoring several pipes, but in the background was the constant carnivore feeding sound of America's past-time.
[Fortunately I have Mondays and Tuesdays to myself. To the very best of my knowledge, there are never any sporting events on those days. Or on Fridays (also a day off).]
Now, lest you assume that this is no more than my usual screed against the stogey-chomping psychos of Marin (and elsewhere), and a sneering boast that pipe-smokers represent the very acme of sensible behaviour, the Ultima Thule of civilization in all its splendiferous glory, I hasten to claim 'not so'.
[Yes, I am a pipe smoker. And I like to think of myself as 'splendiferous'. But not all are thus.]
NOT SO!
The owner of the pipes I restored favours a syrupy mixture which is fifty percent mango-flavoured tobacco, and over a third black vanilla Cavendish.
It is nauseatingly sweet, and deposits a hard gummy tar, in addition to burning hot and randomly carbonizing briar. I would describe it as the AntiChrist of pipe mixtures, if I didn't know that there were plenty of far worse products out there. But it IS the "sleep bleed" of tobaccos.
Some people just naturally have extraordinary bad taste.
All that sports addles their tiny brains.
They crave self-abuse.
These are male trollops with diseased habits.
And highly aromatic pipe tobacco.
I am a very temperate man. My tobacco is unscented, and completely honest. There is no candy store reek adhering to my indulgence.
I am horrified by the concept.
I am clean-minded.
And clean.
Sleep-bleeding. It's what I'm thinking about.
But there are worse things.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
As she does once a month.
This is something I would like to have happen to the cigar smokers in Marin. Instead, they enjoyed a nice sportive show on television, and many curse words were uttered. Not sure if I should call that "fun", as watching a ball game on the boob tube is a far worse trial than any amount of "sleep bleeding", but those freaks thoroughly enjoyed it.
I tried to drown out their insane shouting by running the buffing wheels all afternoon, restoring several pipes, but in the background was the constant carnivore feeding sound of America's past-time.
[Fortunately I have Mondays and Tuesdays to myself. To the very best of my knowledge, there are never any sporting events on those days. Or on Fridays (also a day off).]
Now, lest you assume that this is no more than my usual screed against the stogey-chomping psychos of Marin (and elsewhere), and a sneering boast that pipe-smokers represent the very acme of sensible behaviour, the Ultima Thule of civilization in all its splendiferous glory, I hasten to claim 'not so'.
[Yes, I am a pipe smoker. And I like to think of myself as 'splendiferous'. But not all are thus.]
NOT SO!
The owner of the pipes I restored favours a syrupy mixture which is fifty percent mango-flavoured tobacco, and over a third black vanilla Cavendish.
It is nauseatingly sweet, and deposits a hard gummy tar, in addition to burning hot and randomly carbonizing briar. I would describe it as the AntiChrist of pipe mixtures, if I didn't know that there were plenty of far worse products out there. But it IS the "sleep bleed" of tobaccos.
Some people just naturally have extraordinary bad taste.
All that sports addles their tiny brains.
They crave self-abuse.
These are male trollops with diseased habits.
And highly aromatic pipe tobacco.
I am a very temperate man. My tobacco is unscented, and completely honest. There is no candy store reek adhering to my indulgence.
I am horrified by the concept.
I am clean-minded.
And clean.
Sleep-bleeding. It's what I'm thinking about.
But there are worse things.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Sunday, November 02, 2014
BOVINE INSANITY!
This is in the nature of a rant. Because I watch Cantonese and Mandarin movies and song-clips on the internet, and spend an inordinate amount of time looking up Chinese characters on line, my computer wants me to either "search Asian beauties" OR "chat free with new Thai ladies".
I shall demur.
Irrespective of the tempting photo.
Or her two extremely remarkable endowments.
My experience with Thais is that they are shallow, vain, and convinced that all good things except Gucci were invented by the Thais. Actually, that's my experience with a very large number of people -- the Dutch, for instance, know that the Netherlands is the very best of all possible countries and has everything worth imitating, and Bengalis sneer snootily at everybody else's literature, sweetmeats, and fish -- but what deviance makes my computer, or the evil spirit that inhabits Google Chrome, want to tell me to talk to a vacuous looking pale-skinned twat with big boobies?
What on earth would Ms. Big Thai Tits and I talk about?
Can she quote from Monty Python, or literature?
Does she have opinions about things?
Is her English passably fluent?
Literate, at all?
"ASIAN BEAUTIES" & "NEW THAI LADIES"
Look, I'm as big a sexist pig as the next guy, but if there is one thing I've learned over the years it's that a conversation with an empty-headed crap-fer-brains inevitably leaves me feeling like I want to bang my head into a brick wall. And Asian ladies who subscribe to the good services of Doctor Augmenti-tits usually don't have anything other than tits to bring to the table.
[Internal monologue: Imagine, for instance, a cocktail party encounter. If I am squiring a small discreetly bosomed and normally built librarian around, quite possibly wearing spectacles, and some other male person has a monumentally breasted companion, the natural thought is that he is seeing her because he can find her in the dark, whereas one must assume that I am seeing my good friend because she can explain Einstein's Theory of Relativity in easy yet engaging terms, good gracious it all makes sense now, or play the kazoo.]
Make no mistake; I like tits. Most straight men do, it something we actually feel good about. Tits are very nice.
But only if there is a real person who is having those tits.
And if that's the case, it is better that the tits not be so large as to invite slack-jawed staring, stupid comments, or wide-eyed amazement.
Tits are perfectly fine if they do not strain the owners' back or anyone else's eyes or credulity. From flattish double A's to perhaps as much as a C cup. You know, bosom within reason. These might be an excellent accompaniment to peppery personality, brilliance beyond all bounds, and opinions up the wazzoo. Because reasonably sized titty doesn't take away from those qualities, or detract from their impact.
[Internal monologue: The librarian or bookish person with spectacles and normal mammary glands intrigues me. I have never thought of the kazoo as a particularly noble instrument, but if I could hear her renditions of Bach Organ Concertos, it might even convince me that the great composer himself played the instrument. Or tested melodies on that instrument before writing them down.
The brainless large-fronted "Asian Beauty", on the other hand, will likely never realize that several of the men surrounding her find themselves unable to make eye-contact. They show every indication of being entranced; surely it's a shared appreciation for Gucci? Poor mesmerized bastards.]
Popsicle faced Thai sweeties just don't fit the bill. So far, the ethnicities of women who DO fit the bill have included Dutch high-school girls from the Atheneum or the Gymnasium, German communists, the brilliant daughters of several overseas Chinese families, Jewish women who know more about Judaism than the average lump of suburban gefilte fish, Cantonese women with a rich and evocative vocabulary, a crazy Ukrainian alcoholic, one Irish woman, a petite and very intelligent South Indian lady who already hated the United States, Goth chicks, and a staggeringly hot black lesbian who had pumped her lover full of bullets when she found her with another woman.
She was out on bail, in case you were wondering.
I've had great conversations with all of them.
[Internal monologue: Remarkably, none of these individuals ever explicated Einstein's Theory of Relativity to me. Perhaps they mistakenly assumed that being a pipe smoker, like Alfred Einstein, I was already versed. Well, J. Robert Oppenheimer was also a pipe smoker, and while he undoubtedly did grasp the details of the theory, my understanding is more likely on the level of Edwin Hubble (a stargazer of note) or Georges Simenon (a journalist), both of whom sensibly also preferred the pipe.]
If I hadn't been involved in a long terms relationship at the time, I might have actually gone out with them. My girlfriend until four years ago was in fact a Cantonese woman with a rich and evocative vocabulary. Actually, she still is, but we are no longer a couple.
All I will say about her bosom is that it was far from bovine overload. Which is NOT something that can be said about the pale Thai dingy-bat on the other open screen on this computer at present.
The only thing both ladies have in common is NO kazoo.
Only one of them can spell J. S. Bach.
Or Albert Einstein.
The other?
MOOOOOO!
Betcha that Thai lady doesn't even have a vocabulary.
Or an opinion. About anything.
Except handbags.
Moo.
[Internal monologue: Several of my favourite people are women. It was always a pleasure to chat with them over the phone whenever I called regarding invoices that were past due. They frequently had keen insights and statements of eloquent wit. I have no idea what they looked like, but I can assure you that breasts were not part of their charm. At least not insofar as I was concerned.
I assumed they all possessed a credible number of such things in dimensions that were appropriate. I don't know, I never asked. None of them ever mentioned Einstein OR musical instruments, but I have no reason to think them ignorant.]
Adding insult to injury, it was one of those advertisements tailored to the computer user's search history and reading habits, to the side of an article about climate and this year's rainy season. I think it's the same type of algorithm that youtube uses to suggest video clips to watch or channels that are recommended. Which, at present, is Doramon in Chinese, „Preußens Gloria" auf dem Roten Platz in Moskau, premature assisted birth of spectacled flying-fox pup, a documentary about the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution, Winston Churchill's funeral, Last Week Tonight with John Olliver, Muppet Show Swedish Chef cooking lobsters, Girls und Panzer, Frederick the Great and the Prussia Enigma, and over a dozen Hong Kong movies on four different channels.
Absolutely nothing that would interest Doctor Augmenti-tits.
Youtube knows better than to slap me with Thai tits.
I have NO interest whatsoever in Thai tits.
Thais, and their tits, bore me.
[Internal monologue: Johann Sebastian Bach came from a musical family. So it is logical to believe that one of the earliest instruments he learned to play was the kazoo ("die kazö"). His friend Dieterich Buxtehude was probably also familiar. If either of those men had worried overmuch about 'brüste', we would have heard about that by now. Bach owned nearly two dozen musical instruments at the time of his death. Das WohltemperierteKazö Clavier was collected into two volumes, the first in 1722, the second in 1744.]
Clarification as of 9:32 AM, November 3, 2014: This post is about thoroughly resenting big breasts being flung in my face in advertisements. Even car advertisements.
It's also about Johann Sebastian Bach.
Wasn't that clear?
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
I shall demur.
Irrespective of the tempting photo.
Or her two extremely remarkable endowments.
My experience with Thais is that they are shallow, vain, and convinced that all good things except Gucci were invented by the Thais. Actually, that's my experience with a very large number of people -- the Dutch, for instance, know that the Netherlands is the very best of all possible countries and has everything worth imitating, and Bengalis sneer snootily at everybody else's literature, sweetmeats, and fish -- but what deviance makes my computer, or the evil spirit that inhabits Google Chrome, want to tell me to talk to a vacuous looking pale-skinned twat with big boobies?
What on earth would Ms. Big Thai Tits and I talk about?
Can she quote from Monty Python, or literature?
Does she have opinions about things?
Is her English passably fluent?
Literate, at all?
"ASIAN BEAUTIES" & "NEW THAI LADIES"
Look, I'm as big a sexist pig as the next guy, but if there is one thing I've learned over the years it's that a conversation with an empty-headed crap-fer-brains inevitably leaves me feeling like I want to bang my head into a brick wall. And Asian ladies who subscribe to the good services of Doctor Augmenti-tits usually don't have anything other than tits to bring to the table.
[Internal monologue: Imagine, for instance, a cocktail party encounter. If I am squiring a small discreetly bosomed and normally built librarian around, quite possibly wearing spectacles, and some other male person has a monumentally breasted companion, the natural thought is that he is seeing her because he can find her in the dark, whereas one must assume that I am seeing my good friend because she can explain Einstein's Theory of Relativity in easy yet engaging terms, good gracious it all makes sense now, or play the kazoo.]
Make no mistake; I like tits. Most straight men do, it something we actually feel good about. Tits are very nice.
But only if there is a real person who is having those tits.
And if that's the case, it is better that the tits not be so large as to invite slack-jawed staring, stupid comments, or wide-eyed amazement.
Tits are perfectly fine if they do not strain the owners' back or anyone else's eyes or credulity. From flattish double A's to perhaps as much as a C cup. You know, bosom within reason. These might be an excellent accompaniment to peppery personality, brilliance beyond all bounds, and opinions up the wazzoo. Because reasonably sized titty doesn't take away from those qualities, or detract from their impact.
[Internal monologue: The librarian or bookish person with spectacles and normal mammary glands intrigues me. I have never thought of the kazoo as a particularly noble instrument, but if I could hear her renditions of Bach Organ Concertos, it might even convince me that the great composer himself played the instrument. Or tested melodies on that instrument before writing them down.
The brainless large-fronted "Asian Beauty", on the other hand, will likely never realize that several of the men surrounding her find themselves unable to make eye-contact. They show every indication of being entranced; surely it's a shared appreciation for Gucci? Poor mesmerized bastards.]
Popsicle faced Thai sweeties just don't fit the bill. So far, the ethnicities of women who DO fit the bill have included Dutch high-school girls from the Atheneum or the Gymnasium, German communists, the brilliant daughters of several overseas Chinese families, Jewish women who know more about Judaism than the average lump of suburban gefilte fish, Cantonese women with a rich and evocative vocabulary, a crazy Ukrainian alcoholic, one Irish woman, a petite and very intelligent South Indian lady who already hated the United States, Goth chicks, and a staggeringly hot black lesbian who had pumped her lover full of bullets when she found her with another woman.
She was out on bail, in case you were wondering.
I've had great conversations with all of them.
[Internal monologue: Remarkably, none of these individuals ever explicated Einstein's Theory of Relativity to me. Perhaps they mistakenly assumed that being a pipe smoker, like Alfred Einstein, I was already versed. Well, J. Robert Oppenheimer was also a pipe smoker, and while he undoubtedly did grasp the details of the theory, my understanding is more likely on the level of Edwin Hubble (a stargazer of note) or Georges Simenon (a journalist), both of whom sensibly also preferred the pipe.]
If I hadn't been involved in a long terms relationship at the time, I might have actually gone out with them. My girlfriend until four years ago was in fact a Cantonese woman with a rich and evocative vocabulary. Actually, she still is, but we are no longer a couple.
All I will say about her bosom is that it was far from bovine overload. Which is NOT something that can be said about the pale Thai dingy-bat on the other open screen on this computer at present.
The only thing both ladies have in common is NO kazoo.
Only one of them can spell J. S. Bach.
Or Albert Einstein.
The other?
MOOOOOO!
Betcha that Thai lady doesn't even have a vocabulary.
Or an opinion. About anything.
Except handbags.
Moo.
[Internal monologue: Several of my favourite people are women. It was always a pleasure to chat with them over the phone whenever I called regarding invoices that were past due. They frequently had keen insights and statements of eloquent wit. I have no idea what they looked like, but I can assure you that breasts were not part of their charm. At least not insofar as I was concerned.
I assumed they all possessed a credible number of such things in dimensions that were appropriate. I don't know, I never asked. None of them ever mentioned Einstein OR musical instruments, but I have no reason to think them ignorant.]
Adding insult to injury, it was one of those advertisements tailored to the computer user's search history and reading habits, to the side of an article about climate and this year's rainy season. I think it's the same type of algorithm that youtube uses to suggest video clips to watch or channels that are recommended. Which, at present, is Doramon in Chinese, „Preußens Gloria" auf dem Roten Platz in Moskau, premature assisted birth of spectacled flying-fox pup, a documentary about the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution, Winston Churchill's funeral, Last Week Tonight with John Olliver, Muppet Show Swedish Chef cooking lobsters, Girls und Panzer, Frederick the Great and the Prussia Enigma, and over a dozen Hong Kong movies on four different channels.
Absolutely nothing that would interest Doctor Augmenti-tits.
Youtube knows better than to slap me with Thai tits.
I have NO interest whatsoever in Thai tits.
Thais, and their tits, bore me.
[Internal monologue: Johann Sebastian Bach came from a musical family. So it is logical to believe that one of the earliest instruments he learned to play was the kazoo ("die kazö"). His friend Dieterich Buxtehude was probably also familiar. If either of those men had worried overmuch about 'brüste', we would have heard about that by now. Bach owned nearly two dozen musical instruments at the time of his death. Das Wohltemperierte
Clarification as of 9:32 AM, November 3, 2014: This post is about thoroughly resenting big breasts being flung in my face in advertisements. Even car advertisements.
It's also about Johann Sebastian Bach.
Wasn't that clear?
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
KING OF MASKS 變臉 PIN LIM
The other evening, while my apartment mate was at the soup kitchen where she volunteers every week, I did something at home of which she would have thoroughly disapproved. Nay, it would have made her both frantic and sorely irate. The kind of thing that she would have a hard time dealing with.
I watched a movie.
This particular movie is one which I have already seen well over a dozen times. She knows it's one of my all-time favourites, yet it grates on her, rubs her the wrong way, offends her sensibilities, and abrades her no end. To spite me, she'll imitate one of the characters, uttering the Mandarin term for grandfather ("ye ye") in a heart-rending way, several times, then collapse cackling wickedly.
She's an evil child at times.
Sometimes 'yeye' (爺爺) is a very beautiful sounding word.
Chinese tear-jerk-o-ramas drive her up the wall.
The emotion, the saccharineness, urgh!
She's a woman of steel.
None of that.
"Boys piss mixed with cloth ashes will stop the bleeding."
That is what the elderly hero tells the tiny heroine -- a child whom he bought to be his heir -- moments before her pretense at masculinity crashes around her pretty little head.
我是個女子！
['Wo shr ge nǚ-ze!']
"I - I'm a girl!"
Yep. That's one hell of a revelation. Girl-children in the old society were not suitable inheritors, and counted for almost nothing. The sale of the putative orphan was made infinitely quicker by dressing 'it' as a boy and giving 'it' a short hair cut. Plus the price fetched was higher.
The next eight minutes after that scene are emotionally draining.
No, shan't post a link to the movie, nor embed it here. Reason being that doing so inevitably means that some corporate weasel alerts youtube, and the account holder who uploaded it gets in trouble. Just look for it under either the English name ("king of masks") or the Chinese name (變臉).
Great acting. Great scenery.
An adorable little girl.
And a pet gibbon.
And a lodgement called 'The Hall of the Drunken Fairies' (醉仙樓). Where a sad little girl has a comforting bowl of noodles.
It's an utterly charming movie.
Sweet.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
I watched a movie.
This particular movie is one which I have already seen well over a dozen times. She knows it's one of my all-time favourites, yet it grates on her, rubs her the wrong way, offends her sensibilities, and abrades her no end. To spite me, she'll imitate one of the characters, uttering the Mandarin term for grandfather ("ye ye") in a heart-rending way, several times, then collapse cackling wickedly.
She's an evil child at times.
Sometimes 'yeye' (爺爺) is a very beautiful sounding word.
Chinese tear-jerk-o-ramas drive her up the wall.
The emotion, the saccharineness, urgh!
She's a woman of steel.
None of that.
"Boys piss mixed with cloth ashes will stop the bleeding."
That is what the elderly hero tells the tiny heroine -- a child whom he bought to be his heir -- moments before her pretense at masculinity crashes around her pretty little head.
我是個女子！
['Wo shr ge nǚ-ze!']
"I - I'm a girl!"
Yep. That's one hell of a revelation. Girl-children in the old society were not suitable inheritors, and counted for almost nothing. The sale of the putative orphan was made infinitely quicker by dressing 'it' as a boy and giving 'it' a short hair cut. Plus the price fetched was higher.
The next eight minutes after that scene are emotionally draining.
No, shan't post a link to the movie, nor embed it here. Reason being that doing so inevitably means that some corporate weasel alerts youtube, and the account holder who uploaded it gets in trouble. Just look for it under either the English name ("king of masks") or the Chinese name (變臉).
Great acting. Great scenery.
An adorable little girl.
And a pet gibbon.
And a lodgement called 'The Hall of the Drunken Fairies' (醉仙樓). Where a sad little girl has a comforting bowl of noodles.
It's an utterly charming movie.
Sweet.
Painting by Yi Yuanji (易元吉 'Yeung Yuen-kat').]
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Saturday, November 01, 2014
JOLLOF RICE
A well-known international cooking expert (Jamie Oliver) has offended thousands of West Africans by trumpeting his version of something they all know and he, apparently, doesn't: Jollof rice.
His version seems to be rice with a fancy salsa mixed in.
No, I haven't seen the show. Or read his recipe. So I don't know the exact details on how or why his version deviates from all decency. And not being West African myself, my version is almost certainly wrong too.
Actually, I know that it's wrong. No crayfish. No party.
Just an excuse to have sardines in tomato sauce.
JOLLOF RICE
Two cups long grain rice.
Two cups chicken stock.
One small onion, chopped.
One can of tomatoes (more or less two cups).
One or two Scotch Bonnet chilies.
Four TBS tomato paste.
A bouillon cube.
One Tsp. dried shrimp powder.
One Tsp. salt.
Very generous pinches dried thyme and curry powder.
Small pinches nutmeg and dried ginger.
Small pinch cinnamon powder (optional).
A little minced fresh ginger (optional).
Lightly parboil the rice. Drain, rinse under cold water, set aside.
Empty the can of tomatoes into the blender, dump in the scotch bonnets, and whir smooth.
Add plenty of oil to a deep pot, saute the onion till translucent and beyond. Add the tomato and pepper puree, plus fresh ginger if using, stir to incorporate, and cook for about five minutes. Put in the tomato paste, crumble the bouillon cube into the pot, stir, and add the shrimp powder, salt, and pinched spices. Cook for another several minutes.
When the oil starts rising to the top, take nearly half of the resultant goo out of the pot and set it aside, but leave the onion fragments in. Add the stock to the pot, simmer a bit. Mix in the parboiled rice, and add water as needed so that there is liquid on top.
Put it on a low flame (use a heat-protector), and let the rice absorb the moisture for about fifteen minutes. When it's dry on top, mix in the reserved goo, and let it cook about five minutes longer.
It is done.
The reason why you remove some tomato stew when adding the rice is to decrease the chances of scorching and burning, and to allow a certain texture to develop in the grains.
Fried peanuts and hardboiled egg can be used to garnish if you find that necessary, but it's fine the way it is.
ABOUT THOSE SARDINES ...
The tinned sardines in tomato sauce can be bought at almost any store that caters to the single man or the unwellfunded working family in San Francisco. If you want, just heat it up briefly and dump it on top, or mix it in for the last five minutes.
Have some peanut soup along with your meal, or a scoop of black-eye peas with spinach.
Also good: chicken pieces rubbed with paprika, cayenne, and garlic, roasted in the oven for about ten or fifteen minutes.
Remember to hold the chicken pieces over an open flame afterwards for a little scorching, as this adds inestimably to the flavour.
If you are a single man, reduce the recipe by three quarters. No, I don't know how you reduce one small onion..... maybe use a shallot?
You can also cook chicken pieces in the rice, just brown them a little first, and if this is meant as a main dish for a bunch of hungry people, increase the quantities of everything.
SHITO
Now please note: if you customarily make your own sambal bawang goreng, you can make a version of shito. Use Scotch Bonnets instead of the usual chilies, add dried shrimp powder and a bit of a rich oily fish fried crispy, and use plenty of oil. Slowly fry till the moisture has gone and the mixture is a very dark hue indeed, almost black. Blend in a little tomato paste and or lime juice, simmer the moisture out again.
Make plenty, so that you can keep the remainder in the refrigerator for those days when you have to eat with your suburbanite colleagues.
Shito normally uses herring fried brown; as a person with a large Dutch element in my background, you can imagine that that renders me slightly aghast. Herring should never be pickled or fried. Just very lightely cured and eaten with a bit of chopped onion, and perhaps some fresh bread.
And possibly a shot of Genever from Schiedam.
Kindly note that ground coriander, parsley, precious little whole tomatoes on the vine, and bell pepper(!) were NOT harmed in this jollof rice recipe.
And lemon is not called for.
Enjoy your meal.
Eat well.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
His version seems to be rice with a fancy salsa mixed in.
No, I haven't seen the show. Or read his recipe. So I don't know the exact details on how or why his version deviates from all decency. And not being West African myself, my version is almost certainly wrong too.
Actually, I know that it's wrong. No crayfish. No party.
Just an excuse to have sardines in tomato sauce.
JOLLOF RICE
Two cups long grain rice.
Two cups chicken stock.
One small onion, chopped.
One can of tomatoes (more or less two cups).
One or two Scotch Bonnet chilies.
Four TBS tomato paste.
A bouillon cube.
One Tsp. dried shrimp powder.
One Tsp. salt.
Very generous pinches dried thyme and curry powder.
Small pinches nutmeg and dried ginger.
Small pinch cinnamon powder (optional).
A little minced fresh ginger (optional).
Lightly parboil the rice. Drain, rinse under cold water, set aside.
Empty the can of tomatoes into the blender, dump in the scotch bonnets, and whir smooth.
Add plenty of oil to a deep pot, saute the onion till translucent and beyond. Add the tomato and pepper puree, plus fresh ginger if using, stir to incorporate, and cook for about five minutes. Put in the tomato paste, crumble the bouillon cube into the pot, stir, and add the shrimp powder, salt, and pinched spices. Cook for another several minutes.
When the oil starts rising to the top, take nearly half of the resultant goo out of the pot and set it aside, but leave the onion fragments in. Add the stock to the pot, simmer a bit. Mix in the parboiled rice, and add water as needed so that there is liquid on top.
Put it on a low flame (use a heat-protector), and let the rice absorb the moisture for about fifteen minutes. When it's dry on top, mix in the reserved goo, and let it cook about five minutes longer.
It is done.
The reason why you remove some tomato stew when adding the rice is to decrease the chances of scorching and burning, and to allow a certain texture to develop in the grains.
Fried peanuts and hardboiled egg can be used to garnish if you find that necessary, but it's fine the way it is.
ABOUT THOSE SARDINES ...
The tinned sardines in tomato sauce can be bought at almost any store that caters to the single man or the unwellfunded working family in San Francisco. If you want, just heat it up briefly and dump it on top, or mix it in for the last five minutes.
Have some peanut soup along with your meal, or a scoop of black-eye peas with spinach.
Also good: chicken pieces rubbed with paprika, cayenne, and garlic, roasted in the oven for about ten or fifteen minutes.
Remember to hold the chicken pieces over an open flame afterwards for a little scorching, as this adds inestimably to the flavour.
If you are a single man, reduce the recipe by three quarters. No, I don't know how you reduce one small onion..... maybe use a shallot?
You can also cook chicken pieces in the rice, just brown them a little first, and if this is meant as a main dish for a bunch of hungry people, increase the quantities of everything.
SHITO
Now please note: if you customarily make your own sambal bawang goreng, you can make a version of shito. Use Scotch Bonnets instead of the usual chilies, add dried shrimp powder and a bit of a rich oily fish fried crispy, and use plenty of oil. Slowly fry till the moisture has gone and the mixture is a very dark hue indeed, almost black. Blend in a little tomato paste and or lime juice, simmer the moisture out again.
Make plenty, so that you can keep the remainder in the refrigerator for those days when you have to eat with your suburbanite colleagues.
Shito normally uses herring fried brown; as a person with a large Dutch element in my background, you can imagine that that renders me slightly aghast. Herring should never be pickled or fried. Just very lightely cured and eaten with a bit of chopped onion, and perhaps some fresh bread.
And possibly a shot of Genever from Schiedam.
Kindly note that ground coriander, parsley, precious little whole tomatoes on the vine, and bell pepper(!) were NOT harmed in this jollof rice recipe.
And lemon is not called for.
Enjoy your meal.
Eat well.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
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THE SQUEAKY MAN
The hospital is a cool, comforting, and confusing place, after which one goes to snarf down a cheeseburger. Cool, because it typically has a...
