Too busy to post

I'll let you know how the humour site goes when I hear back. I shortcutted with a preliminary draft of Edmontonians who become Vancouverites, then return, plus my Dish and Runaway Spoon Choose Your Own Adventure from a few years ago. I thought it was pretty damned funny.

If they do, too, then I'm in. If not, then I will have slightly less extra work to do every week - either way, I... um... win?

C.

Hey - I'll throw on another one of my more enjoyable reviews from the vault. This was for the Wok King, where we ordered from the roundeye section of the menu. (sigh)

The greatest story ever stirfried
By CHRISTOPHER THRALL

“Tell us the story of the Wok King!”

Conversation stopped on the hot table as every dish turned its attention to the Egg Foo Yung. “Haven’t you already heard that story?” Egg teased; it had been around the mall kiosk the longest and was always pressed for stories by the fresher dishes. The story of the Wok King was their favourite, however.

Harsh lighting from the food court cast shadows across its craggy surface as Egg began, “There exists a place…” A couple of voices from the ginger beef echoed the oft-repeated tale, but Egg waited until silence returned. “There exists a place far from any mall,” Egg began again, “a cheerful place where visitors are greeted with an aquarium full of carp. There are powder pink tablecloths under plastic covers, and turntables on every table. Traditional Chinese décor lines the walls on three sides and on the fourth, floor-to-ceiling windows gaze upon the Outside.”

“The Outside…” murmured the dishes in unison.

“This happiest place of all is called the Wok King Seafood Restaurant,” Egg whispered. “At the Wok King, green tea is served to every guest and the menu goes on forever.”

“The menu goes on forever,” Egg repeated, “from snacks and congee to noodle dishes, bean curd and hot pots with a variety of meats!” They despaired at the eight stainless steel bins that held the range of choices at their kiosk. “The prices average under $12,” Egg continued, “and the house combinations offer more variety than you can dream.”

“I heard of one group who went,” Egg shared, settling into the story. “They ordered the Combination for Two at $22.50, then added another person for $9. The fourth person of the group—a vegetarian—added the Pan-Fried Shrimp with Chili for $13.50!” The hot table tittered with delight as one of the Sacred Four was included in the tale. They couldn’t imagine real shrimp in Asian cuisine.

“The wonton soup arrives immediately, not strongly flavoured, but very nuanced,” Egg goes on, “with a range of vegetables and plenty of meaty wontons.” The anemic broth in a nearby tureen splashed wistfully. “Spring rolls are crisp and served with a mild homemade dipping sauce. Soon, five heaping platters are brought to the table at the same time as two other guests arrive!” The chow mein gasped: what would they do? They only ordered for four people!

“The group gazed upon the bounty and decided not to order more,” Egg murmured. “The chicken fried rice provided a moist, flavourful base to the other dishes. Both the chicken chop suey and the sweet and sour ribs struck a fine balance between tender meats and crisp vegetables, but the rich, delicate sweet & sour sauce was treasured.” Nearby, the sweet and sour pork sank a little lower, ashamed of its gristly meat and gloopy sauce.

“Beef ‘n’ greens delighted everyone with succulent meat mixed with a host of crisp vegetables in a light soya glaze. But the real winner of the evening,” Egg began, its own excitement mounting, “was the vegetarian’s add-on. Though the menu warned of heat, the Pan-Fried Shrimp with Chili offered a mild bite that perfectly balanced the loads of juicy shrimp and crisp pea pods!” The other dishes broke into a spontaneous cheer. “Even the largest appetites around the table were blunted. All six ate a meal meant for four and the remainder fit into a single take-out container.”

“But what of the price?” asked the lemon chicken in a small voice.

“All six dined for under $10 each, including tax and tip,” Egg replied indulgently. Each dish peered upwards at the prices above their hot table and realized that there wasn’t much of a difference. Why would anyone come to them when the Wok King was possible?

“And the Wok King’s promise?” the ginger beef asked, irritated that the flow of the story was broken.

“Ah, yes: a promise was made to every fast food kiosk,” Egg smiled, reciting the food bins’ most sacred belief. “Any dish that worked hard to be the tastiest, most satisfying mall cuisine could become one of the Four!” Everyone chimed in: “Black Pepper Chicken, Rock Cod with Corn Sauce, Pork Canton or Pan Fried-Shrimp with Chili!”

Unexpectedly, a serving spoon flashed and Egg Foo Yung was lifted on to the plate of a mallrat. “Goodbye!” the other dishes chorused. “May we meet again at the Wok King!” Egg prayed that they would, and that they would keep the stories alive.