Chutney

I happened upon an Indian takeout place today for some tandoori chicken and naan. On the way out I picked up some mango and tamarind chutney in tiny plastic cups.

The el cheapo naan was pretty dense and tough. I would have tossed it out if there weren't the two little cups of watery, sugary liquid to dip it with. Almost unconsciously, I finished a big piece of the lousy bread.

What the hell is chutney? Who invented this stuff to trick people into eating flavorless, nutrition-less, boring and bland starch? Perhaps it's a testament of the ingenuity of ancient people who crushed, boiled, ground, and fermented natural food stuff into unrecognizable shapes.

Substantively, chutney contains hardly anything more than a bit of minced fruit, sugar, and water. And yet, its effect is transforming and transcendent, like a pinch of curry or saffron or a few slices of ginger. It's ... magic.

Another Restaurant Experience

After escaping from the long line of cars waiting to get into the Great Falls Park on a beautiful and sunny Saturday, we decided to try a new Szechuan restaurant in Maryland about which I heard a lot of good things a couple of months ago. Apparently it is a new addition in the fiercely competitive Chinese restaurant market in Rockville. My hairdresser highly recommended the taste, and S is a spicy food aficionado.

Tucked in an obscure little strip mall next to some car dealerships, the restaurant is fairly small and plain, but clean and pleasant. No tablecloth, but there is a bar.

We ordered two dishes: Fried eel and fish head tofu pot. "Are they spicy?" S asked eagerly. "Yes," the waiter assured us. By then I noticed at least half a dozen items on the plastic menu had been blacked out, which is rather unusual for a new restaurant and led me to wonder if the menu had been too ambitious to begin with.

The waiter came back with water and said, "Sorry we don't have the fish head. We can't seem to get the kind of fish with big heads."

It happens. I shrugged and ordered a different fish dish on the menu.

The eel came out in about 15 minutes. It was fine, nothing extraordinary but nothing to complain about. Just then two young men at the table next to ours started a discussion with the waiter.

"We've eaten everything else," said one. "It's been almost an hour. Where's the stir fried greens?"

The waiter said something I couldn't hear since he had his back to me.

"But we're done here. Can't you cancel the order?"

The waiter said something else and walked away. A pretty young waitress came over and said something to the two young men. Again I couldn't hear her words but could hear her girly, whiny voice with a hint of flirtation. After some song and dance, she seemed to persuade them to acquiesce. Within a few minutes she came out with a plate of stir-fried bok choy. The two men sighed and began to pick at it.

I looked around and saw that the place was only half full. Did the waiter neglect to write down the order? Did the chef forget to cook it? It wouldn't have taken more than 5 minutes to cook this.

We finished the eel. The fish was still unavailable. We waited. I got impatient and waved the pretty waitress over.

"We have another dish," I said.

"I know you have another dish," she said with the same whiny voice. "The kitchen's still working on it."

I almost said in reply, "That's the wrong response, honey. You should pretend to rush back into the kitchen and bark at the chef, and then rush back and tell me it's almost done." But I held my tongue and watched her saunter back to the bar area and chat with the boss.

The boss was middle-aged, square-faced Chinese man with a vague southeastern accent. Not a Szechuan accent. He stood behind the bar counter idly with an eye on the dining room, not doing anything in particular. A couple of other waiters were hanging around nearby with nothing particular to do.

We waited some more. I asked the waiter about the fish. He assured us it was coming. Another ten minutes later it finally came. As the waitress set it down on the table I asked, "Is the kitchen short handed?"

She shook her head, "No, but this dish is particularly time consuming."

I almost said in reply, "Yes, just like the stir-fried boy choy." But again I held my tongue and shrugged.

Much to my surprise the fish was excellent. The fish was covered with a brown sauce that contained fermented soybean paste, dry red pepper flakes, and minced meat and Shiitake mushroom. It was delicious. Though not as fiery as S would like, he was also highly satisfied with it and cleaned up the last bit.

I had a hushed discussion with him about the dilemma of such a restaurant. Is this a case of a very slow master chef? Or a lack of cooks in the kitchen to do all the menial jobs like chopping up scallions and garlic and ginger? Or poor management in every link of the chain that makes up running an efficient operation? It would be perfect, I said to S, if the chef got poached by another restaurant managed by someone who really knows what he's doing.

Good food, bad service, poor management. Ah what do you do? I don't know if we will come back, but S seems to like it well enough so we just might, if the restaurant survives. 

A New Restaurant

Today we decided to try the newly opened Copperwood Tavern in Shirlington. The place is lavishly decorated to appear rustic, with copper tubes running overhead and wooden benches and tables polished like metal. It is rather impressive.

An extremely petite young woman with a head half of the size of mine and weighing about 75 pounds greeted us and took us to a table. Dark hair, dark eye shadow, pale skin. Then came our waitress, who looked like a taller and less emaciated copy of the first one. I looked around and spotted a third waitress with the same style of hair and makeup, also in her early to mid 20s. Hmm, I thought, has the manager hired an army of young women and groomed them in the same way?

On the table were two glass jars that pretended to be rustic cups. I wondered whether rural people really do drink water out of glass jars. A couple of waitstaff, obviously lower than the army dark-haired petite young women, were walking around pouring water from a glass bottle with a wooden stopper, like one of those restaurants that are too fancy for an ordinary pitcher, as if the water was not collected from a tap.

"What would you like to drink?"

The hubby got iced tea and I got hot tea. He ordered biscuit with gravy and I ordered a burger.

"With fries or salad?" The girl with dark hair and dark eye shadow asked.

"Salad, please." I said without hesitation.

Some minutes later, she came back with our beverages. Some further minutes later, she came with the food. On my plate was a pile of soggy and lukewarm fries. I sighed but was not in the mood to get it changed.

"Anything else?" She asked.

The hubby wanted more ice tea and I asked her to add some hot water to my cup.

In no more than three minutes she came back with another glass of iced tea and asked me with all seriousness: "Do you mind if I just add hot water to your tea?"

I stared at her, tongue tied, and nodded.

Five minutes later she was standing at the two-person table next to me, apologizing to the gray-haired couple. With a pair of reading glasses on his nose, the husband was pointing at the check, noting that the record contained an incorrect entry. I could only vaguely make out that they were charged something they did not order. The young waitress nodded and apologized again and took the check back for correction.

I made a face to the hubby, "There's something wrong with her. Would it be rude if I suggested she see a neurologist?"

The burger was too dry, and the beacon on top interfered with the flavor. I pulled it out.

The hubby is an aficionado of grits so he ordered one. It came in a fancy little iron pot. "How was it?" The waitress asked.

"Can you tell the chef it is way too salty?" He said mildly. He almost never complains about anything and is usually horrified when I make a fuss about some inadequate service in public. It is a rare occasion that he would lodge a complaint.

The girl apologized and went back to the kitchen. Soon after she came back and whispered something with a red-headed young man hardly older than herself. She then leaned over and told hubby that the chef couldn't make him a new order of less salty grits, but the manager would take it off our bill.

Throughout the meal she had been unwaveringly polite, but we left with a bad taste in our mouth. If only they had put half of the money on decoration into better food, I'd be a lot happier. All the wooden counters and copper faucets are nice, but they are not edible.

Clam linguini

It was a success, if I may say so myself. Based on Mario Batalli's recipe with only 7 ingredients: Fresh egg linguini, short-neck clams, extra virgin olive oil, white wine, tomato, parsley, red pepper flakes.

And absolutely no cheese!

橄榄油

上周去买了新鲜蛋面，舍不得胡乱做掉，于是郑重其事地买了瓶从西西里进口的橄榄油，价格中等。开了瓶盖一闻果然比廉价的加州橄榄油香。

切了蒜和 shallots 在油里爆香，扔进在农夫市场买的夏天最后一批西红柿和 basil，加两把剥壳冷冻的袋装 langostines。最后把煮好的面条倒进去。

某同学表示味道很好，我俩都吃了个肚儿圆。

Soondubu

韩国嫩豆腐的袋装调料已经来来回回地用过很多次了，可是做出来的豆腐羹总是不对头。今天用了两倍的豆腐，汤水量减半，多多放clam肉（我懒得弄带壳的活clam），其他蘑菇什么的照旧，另外多加了一勺韩国超市买来的红色辣酱。这下效果显著，居然真的跟店里的嫩豆腐有点象，歐也！

不过最后那一步打入生鸡蛋还是不行，看样子是工具的问题，没有保温的石头煲就做不出保留在介乎生熟之间的那种效果。

一把老骨头

从本周起减为每周工作四天。睡了个懒觉，中午去游泳，下午在书店里晃荡一圈。真舒服呀，最近两年又忙工作又不开心，总算有点活回来的感觉。

我这把老骨头，几年没游泳也没锻炼了，今天才泡了半个钟，就腰酸背痛，尤其是 rotator cuffs，阿呦，好象一条胳膊要从 shoulder sockets 掉下来一样。最近大概是用 mouse 过度，右胳膊一直有点酸痛，这下子 ... 希望多游几次可有显著的改善。

********
马里兰有家饺子馆，现包现卖，皮薄馅多，尤其是茴香猪肉馅是个特色。门面小而简陋，生意极好，每次周末中午去都免不了要等呀么等座位。两个月之前去吃，大门紧闭，窗户上一张市政府的通知，仿佛是卫生检查没通过，另有一张老板的告示，说是装修厨房，暂停营业，但屋里也不见装修的工人。

我隔三差五地上 chowhound 网站上查消息，那里的吃货消息比较灵通。果然，两星期之前有人在店外停车场碰见老板娘，据说装修已经尾声，政府的许可证也快到手，我心里一块大石财落地。今天打电话过去竟然有人接，原来他们已经重新开张了。阿弥陀佛，明天就赶去搓一顿！

幸福就是饺子馆重开呀。

泰式咖喱虾

这个菜谱看上去很容易，记录一下，改天买菜做它。

梦

黑灯瞎火地跟某同学出去露营，随便找一块光滑坚硬的平地上倒下来，打开睡袋睡觉。天亮后向左张望，发现原来是躺在Scientology教堂门口，且开始有一拨一拨的人在身边走过，进入教堂。于是手忙脚乱地穿好衣服收拾起睡袋赶紧溜走...

然后，我们俩在陌生但略微熟悉的街道上走路，夹道两旁的房屋有点老，仿佛是红砖墙。天是阴的，地面有点湿，但空气颇暖。四周的店面都很小，很古的样子（醒来之后回想一下，最象费城的小意大利街区）。走啊走啊，饿了，在一家意大利饭馆儿门口停下。饭馆门外还有一溜露天的玻璃食品柜，里面放了各式意大利式糕点（杏仁饼，果仁面包Panatone什么的），大约是饭馆里甜点师傅成批做的零卖。

进了餐馆后，我们坐在吧台上看一张纸菜单，因为老板不太会说英文，我们得在菜单上的号码上画圈告诉他点啥菜。菜单上密密麻麻地印了许多行，我不假思索地点了一盘 veal 和 tiramisu。某同学一如惯例地前思后想拿不定主意，最后只好请吧台后的老板推荐一个菜，老板手指着 mussels 说 special，菜单上又列了七八种不同的烧法，于是某同学就在某个 mussels 下画了圈。啊，终于可以吃上了，我垂涎着想 ...

然后就醒了！

Numb

某同学过生日，但是死不承认自己又老了一岁，我另找借口带他去附近的川菜馆子吃饭。

吃完嘴里和嘴唇都麻了，甚至脸颊表皮都有点麻酥酥的，花椒里这成分能不能提炼来做 topical anesthetic 啊？

过年吃月饼

今天去店里买点菜，人山人海的，才想起快过年了。好不容易挤出来回到车上，跟某同学说，下周末要过年了。某同学问：“要不要买俩蛋黄月饼庆祝下？” 我倒地不起，友邦惊诧地说，吃月饼是八月十五，跟新年差了八个半月哪。某同学回答： 哪有那么严重，其实只差了三个半月 ...

味千拉面

洛杉矶有诸般不好，只有一样好： 吃。

各种中国饭馆，跟某同学一星期内吃也吃不不过来，只有在味千拉面吃了两次。

说实话我有点怀疑白色的猪骨浓汤不是真正用猪骨长期熬出来的自然白 --- 每日流量巨大的快餐店，很难相信店堂后的厨房里有几只巨大的锅一直在熬猪骨。谁知道浓汤是怎么批量生产出来的，里面放了多少 MSG，不过好吃还是好吃的。黄黄拉面也还算有筋道，对于没吃过真正用手拉出来的日本拉面的人来说。主要是汤面里的肉、菜、汤、面搭配数量已经科学化系统化，恰到好处，深得我心，各个成份多一分嫌多少一分嫌少，刚好被我全部吃光，无论哪一样多一点都会剩下。

某同学十分钟情店里的南瓜 tapioca 糖水，冷甜食一碗，不算特别甜。

放狗一查，味千只有加州与纽约有连锁店，失望。

New Scan Cook

在 PBS 的数码副台上看见一个挪威做饭节目，说实话饭看上去也就那么回事儿，但是主持人 Andreas Viestad 特别逗。他总是在室外做饭，很多时候是阳光明媚（但是看上去不暖和）的夏天，但也有一集是飘着小雪的冬天，他穿着大衣在户外示范 cheesecake 的做法。今晚看见的节目里，Viestad 在湖边树林里搭了两块平石头，下面烧树枝，在石板上烤面包和牛排，然后面包夹牛排，涂上芥末权当蔬菜，我看得笑死了。还自己跑到湖里去捉小龙虾 (crawfish)，手指被夹得痛，把小龙虾煮了之后得意地说： Revenge is a dish best served hot. 笑死我了。很北欧的幽默。

Chinese fake chicken

I cook, sometimes.

Yesterday I scoured the frig and dug out the last bits of groceries since the shopping trip 2 weeks ago.

I chopped up the green beans and shiitake mushroom into short strips, saute with garlic, added water and covered to steam a while, and then threw in chopped pieces of a wrinkly tofu product known as "vegetarian chicken".

Salt, pepper, a bit of soy sauce, a couple of tablespoons of sugar should do. I dropped a scoop of "lemongrass sauce" from a jar for improvisational fun.

It probably needed five more minutes to soften a bit more, but I lost patience and turned the gas off. Served on white rice.



Lemongrass sauce




Store-bought fake chicken (not my photo).

成都火锅

前几天开车时迷路了，偶然看见路边一家饭馆的中文招牌 “麻辣烫”，而且英文招牌还是拼音 Mala Tang --- 为什么麻辣要当成一个词而在一起呢？麻辣烫三个字应该是平行的嘛。上网调查一下，发现原来是一家成都火锅店。可是，麻辣烫的原意好像不是火锅 ... 吧？

今晚去尝了尝。店是华人厨师和本地洋人合开的，装潢什么的面向洋人顾客，有点拿腔拿调，还好，味道不错。火锅也是单人份的，每人一个专用的小锅。某同学很能吃辣，我就给他叫了个麻辣汤底，给自己叫了个不辣的汤底，然后点了鱼肉、羊肉、蘑菇、青菜。两人吃价格有点贵，但某同学表示物有所值。

吃到一半，一对大学生模样男女在我左边的桌旁坐下，女生是金发洋人，梳马尾辫，对男生说：“我在中国吃过正宗的...” 我的耳朵又竖起来了。然后她头头是道地讲起眼下中国各省市的关税问题，我断断续续地完全没听明白来龙去脉。然后他们就开始埋头大吃，我也继续埋头大吃，关税问题就被搁置了。

不锈钢做的小火锅下面是个酒精炉。该涮的食物都涮了之后，我招手请服务男生过来帮我把火给灭了。他拿起一个很小的盖子，在蓝火苗上一盖就灭了。过了一会儿，某同学也要灭火，很 macho 地不叫服务生，自己用夹生肉的小夹子去夹小盖子灭火，笨手笨脚地折腾了半天，终于给它盖上了。不知为什么我觉得好笑得要命。

舌

中午跟某同学大眼瞪小眼：中午去吃啥？天气太热不想走远，于是我建议去附近一家号称萨尔瓦多/秘鲁/墨西哥菜的馆子去。这家店经常开车路过但从来没进去过。

还没开到，我就回忆起马里兰有一家小有名气的萨尔瓦多馆子，在那里吃过牛舌，又鲜又嫩，不禁匝匝自己的舌头。本地萨尔瓦多裔民工甚多，小吃店也不少，但似乎只卖玉米馅饼, 烤牛排，牛胃汤几样传统小食，尚未见过牛舌 --- 牛胃汤也不错。

这家店内部空荡而简陋，电视上播放着西语台的足球赛。翻开菜单惊喜地看见果然有炖牛舌，赶紧点了，要一杯拉美版酸梅汤，某同学点了安全的海鲜汤。

牛舌的质地比牛肉更软而嫩，但又保持了瘦肉的味道，无需油脂便有肥嫩的口感。炖得烂烂的拿上来，十分鲜美，入口即化。Mmm~~

Paul

上星期进城的时候在地铁站旁边看见开了家法国连锁店 Paul，感叹一下首都终于赶上了北京的脚步。当时已经吃过了，就没进去，还挺好奇的，昨天趁着进城看香港电影的机会去尝了尝。

（“十月围城”果然狗血洒了一地，陈可辛真恐怖。早知道是这片儿我就不去看了。）

环境搞得有点法国小资气氛，不过背景音乐却是不好听的英文歌，一上来就让我失望了，开店的人对法国调调没有研究啊。菜单上除了两三种 quiche，两三种沙拉，一个洋葱汤，剩下就是几种三明治和糕饼。我买了个烟熏三文鱼的冷三明治，某同学买了鸡肉三明治。另有卖两种热三明治的，馅是香肠，说白了就是夹法棍面包的热狗，我看看就没胃口了。

法棍面包倒是够结实有嚼头，馅也就 so-so。某同学倒挺喜欢他的鸡肉，我尝了尝，mustard 味儿还可以，其他没什么。我还买了一小壶咖啡和一只迷你巧克力croissant。咖啡味道寡淡，跟公司里的咖啡差不多，croissant 不过不失，在别处也可买到。柜台里放的一溜糕饼甜点，花色有限，看样子另一个本地法国连锁店 La Madeleine's （实际是从德州出来的）差不多，拿破仑块头很大，里面的 cream 黄黄的厚厚一层，macaron 小甜饼块头也异常之大，倒让人错以为是德州产品。总之看了一眼，没引起什么胃口。不如到 Trader Joe's 买冰柜里的 macaron，个头还小点。

吃的时候某同学问我有什么感想，我老实不客气地说，咖啡和糕点远不如本地的韩国西式咖啡馆，法国面包三明治味道平平，我宁可去吃越南三明治。坐在隔壁座位的一对洋人男女大概听见了，没一会儿就走了，我胡思乱想，他们大概觉得我是个不可救药的 snob 。

当时店里吃午饭的人不少，有一家带外国口音的，三个大人带三个小孩子，小孩子大约3至5岁，二男一女，在店里的木地板台阶上乱蹦乱跳，在地板上乱爬，十分吵闹，几个大人也不怎么管，店员也不管，总之气氛很烦躁。

说起来，本地 Annandale 的韩国咖啡馆才棒呢！我去的这家 Shilla 煮的是意大利出口的 Illy 咖啡，味道浓重，是欧洲口味不是美国口味。店堂里上百种西式面包糕点，近似港式西点，不过花色更丰富，蛋糕什么的尤其好吃，口味比较轻，糖份比美式西点低。也卖红豆包菠萝包什么的，豆沙馅分量很多，让我心花怒放。另外有卖刨冰！在同一广场中，有两三家韩国餐馆，包括韩式烤肉自助餐和韩式中国馆子（还没去吃过）。上次先在一家温馨小店（名字还有中文，唤作“本土人”）吃了炖牛肉汤和石锅拌饭，又便宜又正宗，刚刚将饱未饱的程度，然后溜达到咖啡馆里吃甜点喝咖啡，再买俩面包带回家，啊太爽了。

节食之无望

最近终于摸到了早就该心知肚明的一条规律：吃得少吃得"健康"，最晚第二天就得补回来，一般到晚上就得补回来。

上一顿少吃，必定提前觉得饿，一觉得饿，就更想吃高热量高糖的东西。还不如上一顿吃多点儿，下一顿至少不会产生冲动感。

食面党

这星期出于客观原因不得不天天吃中餐，晚饭尤其单调，几乎总是米饭青菜，可把我给憋坏了。还好明天开始又可以胡乱吃各种非中餐了。想想参加治疗试验的多动症儿童只得吃米饭，蔬菜，肉类蛋白质，真可怜。自己吃了一星期米饭，也没觉得注意力有什么增加，可见平时的ADD倾向跟食物过敏毫无关联。

虽然父母二人都是祖籍南方，习惯且偏爱米饭，但在北方生活多年，也学会了做面食。不知为什么，我就偏爱面食，跟父母住一起的时候还经常随着他们吃饭，不过吃面饼和饺子之类的时候胃口特别好。一旦开始自己喂自己的生活就迅速蜕变成面食主义者，米饭大约一星期煮一两次而已。平时一周不吃米饭不会想念，但是淀粉必须天天有，面食是让我无法抗拒的。偏爱面食，不知道是不是因为小麦做出来的食物香气比稻米食物强烈，包子/馒头，面包，还有（特别是）面饼，新鲜出锅出炉的时候都有明显的香气，而米饭就没那么香，比较neutral。

按照不止一个现代营养学流派（Paleolithic diet算是之一），农业时代发展出的食物跟人体系统“磨合”事件太短，容易引发免疫系统过度反应，导致各种消化道和内分泌的问题。小麦和牛奶是主要的“罪魁祸首”，貌似稻米还好一点，而“古代”食物，如肉类和果子，人类进化中适应时间长，“契合度”比较高，就比较安全。我对这个理论不是非常买账，因为很多现代食物的出现其实在历史上都很晚，例如玉米，例如辣椒，例如巧克力（！），对之产生免疫反应的数目并不很高。自免疫变现在越来越常见，免疫系统紊乱而攻击自己的病例在人群中越来越高，我总是疑心与现代生活里的某些未知因素有关系，至少有非食物因素激发或促进了食物过敏的反应。

一个同事在二十几岁的时候忽然得了一类糖尿病，再过几年开始对麸蛋白 (gluten) 发生敏感反应，吃了含有 gluten 的东西就会腹痛腹泻，不得不戒掉所有含 gluten 的食物，当然所有的麦制品都不能吃。她有时自诩意志坚强，以前爱吃的东西现在都严格地戒掉了，且说有不少 gluten allergy 患者忍受不了 gluten-free diet，拼着肚子难受也要不时满足一下口腹之欲。我心想自己就是后一种人，为增进健康而限制食物种类，恐怕很难做到，多半会自暴自弃，只是运气比较好没有食物过敏症而已（敲敲木头）。

当维持生命不成问题之后，食物的作用就变得暧昧起来。限制食物种类的摄取真的能增进健康？此类理论在美国就是billion-dollar industry，极其风行，但是我对此持强烈的怀疑态度。为了更健康而吃饭还是为了快感而吃饭，在某种意义上看是一个 instant vs. delayed gratification 的问题，相信不同的人有不同的倾向，不过在我看来（对于没有食物过敏症的人来说）这个 instant gratification 是实打实没问题的，而 delayed gratification，即“不吃XX就永远健康美丽聪明长生不老”的许诺，至今还虚幻得很。

所以，明天要好好地放纵一下自己，到土耳其饭馆去大嚼面饼！

韩国豆腐屋

这两天想吃Soondubu了，在网上搜到这家地处Annandale的豆腐屋，昨天去吃。啊，果然名不虚传。

在网上看到的这家店出售的豆腐煲照片，几乎全是石头锅外沿有洒了一些汤的痕迹，厨师也不去擦掉就上桌，仿佛宣告：我们总是斟得满满的。不知为何这个邋遢的细节令我觉得十分亲切家常，胃口有增无减。我和S同学各自点了海鲜煲和牛肉海鲜煲，拿出来也是满满登登的一碗，外沿洒了一些汤。

豆腐煲上桌时咕嘟咕嘟地滚，食客须将之前发给的生鸡蛋立刻打到汤里搅碎。滚汤的热量不至于把蛋煮得太熟，留下一种微粘的质地，跟嫩豆腐混在一起，产生“粥”样的口感。服务生问我们要多辣，我们谨慎地要了中等（第三级，共五级）。上来之后发现中等辣其实很不辣，看来下次可要求第四级。红色的调味料酸咸辣还微甜，混在鲜香的牛骨汤底中，难怪会让人上瘾。最满意的是嫩豆腐本身，质地细腻软滑，入口即化。据说是饭馆自制的新鲜豆腐 --- 可以相信，专卖豆腐煲，流量如此之大，自制豆腐不仅经济合理而且质量有保证。

点菜之前看到前后左右的豆腐煲似乎石碗甚小，份量不足，就多点了一份小型韩式烙饼作为头台。烙饼的尺寸倒是不大不小，质量一般（感觉葱不够多），吃完之后再上豆腐煲。看上去只是小小一碗，实际上却挺深的，舀啊舀啊舀不完，奋力吃完之后差点瘫倒在椅子上。回家之后倒头睡了两个钟头，一下午报废掉 --- 想必是吃得太多，胰岛素狂喷的结果。

出门之后顺路在韩国超市买了一袋Soondubu汤料、四管嫩豆腐、一盒冻蚶肉、一盒金针菇，打算平时晚上在家做模仿版 --- 当然不能替代豆腐屋的新鲜豆腐和真汤真料，只是在下班之后无暇去Annandale时聊以自慰罢了。

豆腐屋的装潢和服务跟他们的菜单一样简洁明了没有累赘，很有街坊小店的气氛。食客中固然大多年纪不等的韩裔顾客，从一家两代三口到一帮更习惯讲英文的第二代孩子，也有无需韩友领路的洋人顾客，坐在我右边一桌的一对亚裔情人，二十来岁，一开口说是越南话。我照例东张西望，发现最好玩的地方在于店内墙纸密密麻麻地写满了字，细看仿佛是许多书页糊上去的，书中印的是竖排毛笔字，中文夹杂韩文。S同学问我写的是啥，我耐下性子读了一段，原来是用中文解释韩文的教科书，啥啥是水桶的意思，啥啥是牛的意思，且有发音指导。不过，中文部分是用半古文写的，我看得也吃力。仿佛与墙纸吻合，桌上立着的菜单卡一面印了韩文+英文，一面印了中文。