Je te plumerai la tête

This was carefully selected from last weekend's lunch menu. It was listed as "Roast Pigeon", so I assumed would be like in Egypt, where they stuff it with rice and it looks like a kind of roulade.

Presentation is everything with this dish.

I think it's a lovely touch to deep fry the pigeon's head and perch it atop its dismembered carcass.

Having now been through this ordeal, I can tell you it's a lot more difficult to remove the head from the neck. I have a new-found respect for Al-Quaeda.

Of course, by the end of the meal, the plate tells a different story:

There is something quite disconcerting about the pigeon's head lying there, at the top of the plate, contemplating its own remains ...

[Cough cough] "This isn't a kitchen"

In the absence of having a toaster, I attempted to use my oven on the weekend to make toast.

I learned that it gives you an electric shock as you open the door. It was so unexpected that I thought it was a muscle tick. So I pulled out one of the  trays and got another shock. Using toddler logic, I tried yet another tray and experienced the same result.

So I put the bread back in the freezer and reached for a bottle of wine.

I emailed the landlord immediately to inform her. After no response, I phoned her. This resulted in a protracted explanation, with some onomatopoeia on my part ("bzzzz" "arghh!" "kerspat!" . Finally she giggled a bit, said that she understood me now, and asked whether anything else in the apartment was also electrocuting me. I said I would prefer not to do a whole lot more testing. She giggled again as she said "We can't get anyone today. Someone tomorrow. Just don't touch anything. OK?". 

[Click]

Umm, OK.

2 days later she sent me an email to say it was all fixed and a letter would be arriving for me to sign. All these written warnings are giving me the willies.

Loose Lids Sink Shirts

There is a Starbucks-style cafe about 20 metres from my apartment.

I went there this morning to get a coffee on my way to work. This required 10 minutes and 6 staff:

- A takes the order and tells B and C about it

- A stares at me while B makes the coffee

- C prints the bill and hands it to D. C starts staring at me

- B finishes making the coffee, puts it on the counter and starts starting at me

- D carries the bill from the till to me. D stares at my wallet while I fumble for change.

- E has spent the whole time staring at me, occasionally leaning on A.

The funny thing is that by now, I hardly notice all this.

I grabbed my coffee, smiled as a F opened the door for me and jumped into a cab.

A few sips in, and half way to work, I realised that the lid had not been properly secured and the coffee had spillled all the way down my shirt and tie. So I asked the driver to turn around so I could go home and change. 

I got home, the driver waited while I changed, then I took my caffeinated shirt and tie back in, as well as the coffee whose lid I had re-loosened for effect. 

They say one should never get angry in Vietnam. So I did not get angry. I was pointed. Surely one can be pointed in Vietnam?

On entering the cafe, I realise that the last 10 minutes has resulted in a complete reshuffle of roles and B is now on the till. I put my shirt and tie on the counter. B couldn't be less interested. I ask them to launder my shirt and tie. B's interest finds a new low. 

I stop F from making me a new coffee as B reaches into the till and hands me a refund. As I take my money and quickly turn for the door (opened now by C), I ignore B's attempts to hand me my shirt and tie back.

As the cab pulls away I remember buying the shirt for $250 and the tie for $200. What was I thinking? 

I'm not looking forward to the retrieval attempt tonight.

Trip to Work

Sorry about the fingers.

Food marketing

I love the honesty in the third listing of this menu.

When I grow up, I will be able to order such things.