Hotch potch

Disclaimer: This post contains content that may offend some vegans, or hygiene freaks.

Last night we hit one of my favourite "real Chinese" restaurants. Real Chinese refers to the fact that its a place that Average Chens and Wongs (as opposed to Joes) eat, for super low prices.

The menu? Spicy whole deep fried shrimp and chicken broth with rice (with bonus chicken bones). Altogether pretty good winter food - and it is indeed winter over here.
Having trouble heating our oversized apartment, and until last night we had no hot water for showers. You're never as cold as you are in somewhere under-prepared for it. Japan, on the other hand, turns their train carriages into furnaces and struts out the winter fashion. I don't appreciate the effect on the environment, but it is toasty warm. Sometimes too so - if you're wearing a coat for outside you're constantly playing the strip game when you're walking anywhere in town.

The highlight of last night though, was when we'd just finished eating our (rather indistinguishable) chicken, picking out the bones and laying them on an empty plate (unlike the Chinese who tend to utilise the tablecloth), when a rat the size of a small dog thunders out of the kitchen, dodges the collection of waiters and darts around a corner. First thoughts? Um, what did we just eat? Was that a neck or a tail?
As Jeff said, I'm not coming back tomorrow. Chances are that rat's days are numbered and someone's going to get lucky. Ratatouille a la real.