San Francisco

This afternoon I walked down California Street to Chinatown thinking I’d grab a bowl of noodle soup or some shrimp dumplings and a beer since it was almost four and I hadn’t had anything but a bowl of granola to eat all day. So I found what looked like an interesting restaurant called Chinatown (good name, right?) and went upstairs to the dining room that overlooks Washington Street. “I want something light,” I told my waitress. “Just a little of this or a little of that.”

“I think you want dim sum sampler,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“Very nice. Sampler.”

Okay, fine. So I get the dim sum sampler. Two minutes later, a plate of four shrimp dumplings arrive. Perfect. I drink my Tsingtao, eat a dumpling, take another sip of beer. Exactly what I wanted.

Except a few minutes later another plate appears. Curry chicken skewers (I didn’t see how curry chicken was “dim sum sampler” but what the hell. Eat the curry chicken and finish my beer. I’m just about ready to ask for the check when a spring roll arrives. So I decide I need another beer. And then the bbq pork buns and the steamed pork dumplings. Now I’m really full. And I’ve got a big dinner to go to in two hours. So I ask for the check. My waitress laughs. “More coming,” she says, hurrying off. And she’s not kidding. Chicken potstickers, honey bbq spare ribs, crispy prawns, and sesame rice balls. Plus the green tea ice cream and, of course, a fortune cookie. Just a little snack in Chinatown.