Abraham Lincoln

"In the end, it's not the years in your life that count.  It's the life in your years."  A. Lincoln

Two Texas Gentlemen

                    Jeremiah and Isaac Trussell before an orchestra concert. . .December, 2014

A Restaurant Experience

London April 5, 2015 - 

On the streets leading to London’s Chinatown, we are jostled by crowds of tourists speaking a cacophony of languages.   Richard shifts his wallet to an inside zipped pocket to avoid the ever-present pickpockets. 

 Exotic fragrances drift across the pedestrian mall, about 2 blocks long, with an Oriental arch at the farthest point.   Probably half a dozen restaurants and as many Chinese groceries line the walkway which is jammed with people. At one end a woman dressed in a long white dress sings sweetly to recorded music.  At the other end, a tall lovely lady in elaborate traditional flowing red kimono with coiffed hair and gracefully wielding a fan allows photos to be taken with her for coins in the basket.  And mid-way, a 12 foot tall stuffed panda dances and poses with children for photos for a donation.   The discerning eye can see a transparent patch above his belly button for the actor inside to view the outside world.

Dressed chickens and ducks hang outside groceries ready for sale.   “Dim 

Sum” is advertised in restaurants, small plates of specialty items - dumplings, steamed rice balls with fruit and vegetables.   A particular favorite is cooked chicken feet with attached skin and claws.  

We choose to eat at the Golden Pagoda.   We are greeted graciously and ushered up 20 steps to the second floor.  But we don’t stop there. . .up another 20 steps to an attic-like space with two tables for six, a small bar and a dumbwaiter to bring up food from the kitchen below.   Our server is courteous and efficient - dressed in black, has a peroxide streak in his hair, talks in Chinese to the other helpers.

I exercise self-control. The area gives me claustrophobia and I always look for the fire escape in close quarters.   Of course there is none.   But here we are!  The six of us order a five course fixed menu.    Richard and I share a pint of Chinese beer while we sample starters of sweet and sour ribs, fried sesame toast and crispy seaweed followed by a course of roasted duck which we wrapped in rice pancakes with plum sauce.   After our dishes were removed, plates of crispy chili beets, stir fried vegetables, deep fried squid, bok  choy and prawns were brought to the table.   And - oh yes - sweet and sour pork and cashew chicken that taste nothing like American style Chinese cooking.   

A visit to the restroom takes us back to the second floor.   I am pleased that

the bathrooms are spacious and modern.   The crush for space in central London often causes public restrooms to be on the lower level of the building, down stairs that are just a glorified ladder and sometimes located under the street in a cave-like facility.

We gorged on the exotic feast, some of the most delicious unusual food I have ever eaten.  Had to leave some leftovers as the British do not honor the custom of take home boxes.  They also do not tip as generously as we do in the States, five to ten percent is standard.

We dragged our thoroughly satiated bodies down the two flights of winding stairs and out into the cold misty weather.   As we walked 45 minutes to our parked car, the London homeless were dragging their cardboard boxes into doorways with their tattered blankets to settle for the night.  We dodged babbling groups of teen-agers taking selfies in front of familiar landmarks.   A sensuous experience of the teeming city which will live on in our memories for years.