| rev:text
| - I stopped in for a quick bite to eat, craving some wonton noodle soup. I had bookmarked this place reading some other reviews, but then realized I had been here before. Almost 20 years ago. It's a faint memory now, so I can't remember if it was the same name and same people working here, yet it wouldn't surprise me. The decor since has been spruced up, but the menu seems to be pretty much intact. It was sparsely populated, maybe 7 people total.
"I'll take a wonton noodle soup please."
"Spicy or no spicy?"
I wanted some old school wonton love, so "Not spicy, please."
"OK, no spicy. No MSG in soup!"
"Oh, that's great, thanks!"
"No MSG!!"
I waited what seemed to be almost too long for my bowl of soup, but considering that *everything* is homemade, I'm willing to give it a pass. I did my daily Duolingo. Checked into Yelp. Checked the weather.
Then, realizing the error of having a restaurant in silence (it isn't), they turned on the music.
What follows was a veritable cavalcade of the who's who of church hymns of the Protestant faith. For better or for worse, I made a living for many years as a church musician, and, for better or for worse, I *always* pay attention to the background music people play in restaurants. Rarely is it a blessing, it's usually a curse, sometimes it's Kryptonite. Like today.
They had some sort of compilation of hymns, arranged for piano and violin, and just rattled off one well worn workhorse after another. It turned into a inescapable game of identifying them as quickly as possible. In total, I got about 2/3 of them. It was more than a distraction.
..... "Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee: How great Thou art...."
Finally, the wonton noodles arrive. Everything is handmade, more home cooked than home *and* cook combined. Hand made cook hand home made cooked NO MSG.
The broth was almost like oyster sauce with water. Not very interesting, not much more than a medium to keep everything warm, sadly. No MSG.
As per Andrew C.'s review of 6/1/2016, wontons were more like dumplings. Dare I say, nay, more like PILLOWS. Texture wise, there were some off-putting Unidentified Crunchy Objects in the filling (UCOs), but flavour-wise, not bad.
Also, lettuce as a topping. *Cooked lettuce*.
I can only imagine what it's like to deal with two hungry children, particularly ones that eat their body weight in food every day. Some days, perhaps my poor Chinese mother didn't have enough time to do the grocery shopping, so our vegetable dish for dinner would consist of boiled lettuce. Motherf***ing lettuce. With a plate of oyster sauce. The water from the lettuce would turn the oyster sauce into something of a broth-like consistence. My sister and I ate it, grudgingly, while complaining. I feel guilty now for being such a bitch.
.... "O sometimes it causes me to tremble! tremble! tremble! Were you there when they crucified my Lord?" ....
The noodles were handpulled, so there's that. But noodles without a good broth become wet dough-strings in brown water. Accompanied with cooked lettuce. Romaine, I think. In a broth that tastes vaguely of oyster sauce. And guilt.
There's a small plate of almond cookies. These definitely look home made. You can still see the dimples made from the hands and fingers that made them. Like the way a sculptor creates life from the basest clay. I don't usually like them, because they tend to be too sweet, and crumble in your mouth into dust. These are definitely not too sweet, perhaps not sweet enough. But they do not disappoint in the crumbly, dusty category.
I finish my meal. I'm chock full of pork pillows. And wet dough-strings. I rise up from my seat to pay.
"OK thank you! Broth, no MSG!!"
Cooked lettuce.
"Yes, thank you." I had over a 20, and get my change. I imagine the tip jar is like the collection plate, and I hand over my perfunctory %15 tith... tip.
Cooked. Lettuce.
... "Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, O sinner, come home!" ....
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