I cheated on Hippo the other week.
That’s why this post is delayed…I just didn’t know if she could handle the truth.
She was gone. I was hungry…
I ate with someone else, ok?
There, I said it.
He was a man, too. And we ate at Laotian/Thai joint Green Papaya, which Hippo and I haven’t gone to together yet…-gasp!-
But! It was sooooo good!
Well, not quite. It was more like…really weird and awkward, you know…like it always is the first time…
No, not *him*. He was just whatever. I’m talking about the bittered duck I had.
Yah, bittered duck. What? Never heard of it? Well, here’s what it looks like:
Duck, all bittered up...
When I think of substantive, bitter food, I think of bitter melon and unsweetened chocolate, maybe beer or radicchio. I don’t think…Chinese herbs with a bit of duck-taste on the side! Man, this stuff was unbelievable! The first few chunks were pretty good, but then I started to feel like my organs were being soaked in bitterness - I started to feel like I tasted the emotion rather than the taste.
So this is what it’s like to cheat. Crap.
Well, at least there were other interesting things, like another instance of the water-flavored-like-Thai-iced-tea; a Vietnamese-style plate of herbs/greens that included what appeared to be green beans of some sort…odd; and some freshly-made sticky rice (by “freshly-made,” I mean the man ran across the street to a some kind of tax/accounting business and came out with magically-made sticky rice, which unfortunately didn’t taste at all like money).
My partner in culinary adultery (some reviews call them “dining partners,” but let’s be honest - eating is more sexual than that) had a boring-sounding, but palate-satisfying curry chicken noodle soup. Admire the droplets of oil sprinkled all over the soup, while I go mire in some more guilt, a whole week after the incident.
Post a Comment