And I'm still wondering.,..what the fuck are they doing to these poor ducks?!?!?!
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Xmastime's First Obituary Entry.
When I moved to Williamsburg about 10 1/2 years ago one of the first things I did was seek out a Chinese restaurant nearby. This being Brooklyn of course there was one in my closet, and I quickly gave it my one and only test for a Chinese joint: the egg foo young gravy. Everything else in these places are the same, but if you get stuck with some place that instead of the brown creamy egg gravy serves that goopy plum sauce crap, then you're fucked. China Taste (the restaurant I frustratingly reference here) quickly passed the test with flying colors, and I latched onto them like...well, Xmastime to egg foo young. I gave no other Chinese restaurant my business - why bother? I'm not one to fix what ain't broken, and I'm sure as fuck not gonna start with my Chinese food. When I moved all the way across the neighborhood I held my breath and lit a candle the first time I called them to see if they delivered all the way to my street. They did. And as a huge bonus, I stumbled upon the fact that they had the best chicken nuggets in the neighborhood. Or, as they called them, chicken mcnuggets. Hmm.
Apparently I called them for a stretch completely shitfaced each time, as upon delivering my address and order one night the guy became angry and started yelling at me "you wear pants! you wear pants this time!" I guess I had been answering au natural. Oh wait, so that's how the Asians-have-a-small-penis myth started? Sorry Asians!
Our marriage was without as much of a tremor for about 7 years; we danced the dance on moonlit lovers - place call, wait for call, run downstairs, meet at door, touch hands making transaction, return to our seperate boudoires to dream of each other. It was perfect.
Then.
One day my egg foo young order came and I looked down at it. Lettuce. Everywhere. Green is not a color I wanna see in my egg foo young. Afterwards maybe, but not during. Hmm. I ate it, bitching the whole time, but thought oh well, now they're 329 for 330. Not bad, still in the Xmastime Gastronomic Hall of Fame (sponsored by Scott Tissue.) But then the NEXT time, same thing. What the fuck; they're stuffing the foo young with soggy pieces of lettuce now? A light went off: oh oh...Asians are a crafty people. No no, I'm kidding. I took this to mean that there was a new chef in the back running things. So I was careful now. Slowed down; thought about trying other places. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. There's a place about 250 steps from my loft [ed. note: Kam Sing!], but I wouldn't cross the street to spit at it (though I would later learn that plenty of people do; it's called "egg drop soup.") I would not turn my back on my #1 girl. We'd been through too much together, too much love. Too much love, too much brown gravy flowing through my veins, too many paradiddles bringing me back to life. "CWEAR!!" (thump!!)
Then.
One time I ordered my usual. Pork egg foo young combo. That is to say pork egg foo young, fried rice and 14 gallons of duck sauce (again...what the fuck are we doing to these poor ducks??!!) Opened it up and went through my routine: lay the two patties on the plate. Cover the patties with the egg foo gravy. Pull pants up. Load on rice - start on the other end of the plate, overlapping upon exactly one half of the patties. Drop a little more (but not too much) gravy on ice for mixing. Dig in.
I'm chewing and almost fucking die..wtf? I'm thinking...dig in again (this tells you how much I trusted this place. I dont eat American food unless I can see every ingredient, yet here I am digging into General Tso's Guts blind) and ... IT WAS SHRIMP!!!! Aaaaaaarrggghhh! As furious as I was, again, I just wanted to chalk it up to an isolated mistake.
The third time it happened, I closed the doors on our relationship. Sorry - I put in 8 years of commitment and dedication, and you give me a tiny fucking shrimp to put in my mouth?
But enough about my ex-girlfriend's husband; the fact is I cut them off and I ain't been back since. Then the other day I got the call.
RRTHUR: hey
XMASTIME: hey
RRTHUR: whats up.
XMASTIME: nuthin
RRTHUR: hmm.
XMASTIME: yeah.
RRTHUR: (click noise with teeth/cheek)
XMASTIME: fuckin a. whats happening with you?
RRTHUR: nothin
XMASTIME: yeah
RRTHUR: you know
XMASTIME: yeah. what's happening with you?
RRTHUR: you already asked me that
XMASTIME: fucking a
RRTHUR: ha!
XMASTIME: yeah
RRTHUR: so what, ah...
XMASTIME: whassup?
RRTHUR: huh?
XMASTIME: hmm?
RRTHUR: what's happening?
XMASTIME: you already asked me that.
RRTHUR: i did?
XMASTIME: yeah
RRTHUR: no, you asked me that
XMASTIME: I did?
RRTHUR: twice.
XMASTIME: about what's happening?
RRTHUR: yeah. and I told you you had already asked me.
XMASTIME: ahhh
RRTHUR: pfft!
XMASTIME: fucking a
RRTHUR: China Taste shut down
XMASTIME: (color drains from face. desperately try to keep self together) really?
RRTHUR: yeah. gates closed. sign up.
XMASTIME: hmm (on floor grasping heart)
RRTHUR: so. you know.
XMASTIME: yeah. yeah, whatever (grabbing my egg foo young stuffed animal, holding to heart)
RRTHUR: yeah
XMASTIME: aight. well.
RRTHUR: cool
XMASTIME: fucking a
RRTHUR: yeah
XMASTIME: cool.
click.
So today let's all raise a pork bun to my #1 all-time greasy Chinese joint in all of NYC. Godspeed, China Taste. You're going to that Great Wok in the Sky. Every time I hear a knock on the door, I will secretly pray it's you. And I will have my pants on. For the love of god and all I know sacred, I will have my pants on (sobbing, tears shorting out keyboard)
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