I had been bugging Ken to take me to Chinatown for some dim sum (okay, I asked him once) so off we went with empty stomachs. We walked around the streets for some time but as real hunger set in we were quick to pick the “best vegetarian dim sum” restaurant because it was literally right in front of us. We ordered several items, crispy banana, spinach dumplings, sweet pea this, lotus flower that, etc. People, long story short, they basically just took a small piece of vegetable and put it inside a huge ball of dough and fried it ’til the cows came home. “Gross”, is what I said as I wiped the dripping grease off my chin. And then I looked around the room and realized all the wait staff looked just like big dough balls and immediately asked for the check.
We spent the next two hours wandering the streets of Chinatown and Little Italy (which is becoming Littler Italy because the Chinese are taking over, but you didn’t hear that from me). Ken and I often talk about the similarities between our Chinese and Italian upbringings.
And then we came upon this street sign running through Chinatown and Little Italy…
Post bad dim sum, we enjoy homemade pizza while watching the Olympics