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Posts tagged ‘dining’

Full Moon and a Cool Blow

This week, stories inspired by One Cool Blow. Because, there are so many possible meanings. If you think you know the origin of One Cool Blow, play along until the end of the week to let others draw their own conclusions.

Night had yet to fall from the sky. Everything was lit with pinks and oranges ringing from a central vanishing point. In a few fading minutes, the roof would be shrouded. Stars would spatter above like a droplets of paint under a shimmering full moon. An enchanted night for June. Temperate, the air tinged with longing.

Longing. That’s what sent them chasing up the stairs, through the tunnel that opened to the heavenly show. They could just as easily do it inside, behind closed doors.

But.

On a night like this one, the act called for an injection of something more. Something daring. Something exotic, out of the norm. Thoughts that wouldn’t rest sent them to fulfill their desire. Outside. In the open. Under the falling stars with the starlings twittering by.

Nobody. They crept around the communal space, the pavers interspersed with gravel and wispy clumps of purple heather. First one discarded corner. Then another. All sheltered spaces that were too boxed in, leaving them with only one option to staunch their wanton cravings: the open center of the roof. They approached it with a mixture of guilt and heat.

Eyes darting around, she spoke doubt first. Do you think we can do it here?

But, he had already taken charge. Pushing aside obstructions. Letting his hands roam. Knowing the proper places she liked most. She ogled the sky and knew she was lost, realized he would not stop until he had the release he wanted.

MTM never doubted it was the perfect night for an al fresco dinner on the roof. For the sake of decorum, I made sure we had dessert indoors.

The Bars Are Temples But The Pearls Ain’t Free

Welcome to “One Night in Bangkok” the series. Follow me through Hong Kong and Bangkok while I act as my Rotary Club‘s delegate to the International Convention in Thailand, with posts that are titled from the lyrics of the song “One Night in Bangkok.” If this is your first visit to the series, please click here to begin at the beginning.

The last time I walked into an Asian restaurant in a foreign country and ate whatever they brought me, I downed a live shrimp. (More on that here if you’re interested.) Given that experience, I had major misgivings about ordering the set menu at Hutong, the Chinese restaurant we selected for our one big dining extravaganza in Hong Kong. I mean, they gave us the menu. They TOLD us what we would be having.

Still. I suspected all those indecipherable symbols said things like ‘killed at the table for your viewing pleasure’ and ‘hot enough to make you breathe fire for a week.’

For all of you who wanted details on the food, here’s your Delectable Post of Food Porn.

It all started with the scallop and pomelo. One scallop, sliced into thin thirds. The lamb salad in the middle was tasty, and I don’t even LIKE lamb. Seaweed, scallion and pepper rounded out the meat with a spicy mayonaisse holding it all together. On the far end, bamboo clams in a rose wine sauce finished the triple presentation. One of my favorites of the night.

I didn’t hold out much hope for the cod with crispy fermented beans and dried peppers, but it ended up being the winning dish of the night. Steamed fish that broke apart in the right portions with a contrasting crunch from the beans. I will definitely try to remake this one at home – IF I can figure out what the heck crispy fermented beans are.

I woke up at 2AM, still breathing flames from the shrimp and chilis dish. When it came out, I put one of the shrimps to my tongue without eating it, and thought a nuclear reaction occured in my mouth. It was hell-hot. And, I ate EVERY shrimp on my plate, hoping the neighboring diners didn’t think me insane for laughing and crying and chewing at the same time.

The least remarkable dish of the evening, the duck wasn’t greasy like it has been on the rare occasions I’ve tried it. I just don’t like duck. But, I gamely made Chinese pancakes smothered in plum sauce, and gobbled it right up.

By the time I got to the beef with mushrooms and peppers in a vinegar sauce, my poor taste buds were exhausted, and my stomach was pregnant with quintuplets of food. I soldiered through, eating about half of the tender, seasoned morsels of cow.

And, then they brought dessert, a lychee sorbet with fried apple rolls. My jaws clenched from exhaustion with chewing. My throat closed. My stomach shrieked ‘No more!!’…………And I went ahead and ate it.

Really exceptional Chinese food is non-existent where we live, and having it has ruined me. An orgiastic dining experience. Absolutely.

Late tonight, we move on to Bangkok. Posts should remain on the normal schedule. I hope.

The Art of Dressing for Dinner

Eat. Me.

I greet this Saturday with drool on my pillow, dreams of delectable dishes chasing across my starved palate. Will 6:30 this evening EVER get here?

All day long, MTM will be torturing my nostrils with aromas. Simmering scents. Nuanced perfumes. Earthy smells. The four burners of the gas stove will work my abused senses into a foaming froth of longing, MTM’s stirring ladle a paddle to slap my greedy hands away from the morsels cooking there.

Bill and Cheryl Smithem are coming over for dinner tonight, one of those lingering affairs, multiple courses where we sit around the table and gab to a soundtrack of mood music, flickering firelight, and heaping piles of orgiastic food. For the balance of my Saturday, I will do everything I can to distract my craven stomach, bewitched by MTM’s culinary voodoo.

I will check the mail.

And taste a sauce.

I will select table linens, ironing them to a starched sheen.

And use that work to justify an oozing snack of something brewing.

I will straighten my desk.

And let my fingers stray into a sampling bowl of deliciousness.

I might sneak in a nap.

And awake to a sliver of scented joy, preening aromatically on the table beside me.

Dang. Just penning this post made me famished. I hope Bill and Cheryl don’t notice it when they arrive to find that I have stuffed myself into a stupor.

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