Parts of Choice, and breast is best, that is, chicken breast (meat). [What were you thinking of?]
I was forced to join a 9-course meal with the incumbent, incumbent-in-waiting and other knights of the round table. The incumbent was none other than the grand dame, who has “eaten more salt than you have eaten rice”. (May her not suffer from kidney failure, aye-see ahh!)
[Edit:The price of rice has rose significantly than that of salt, so who says rice-eaters are worse off than salt-eaters? Hmmmm... ...food for thought here.]
Fast forward.
The waiter served the next dish: Crispy skin chicken.
Now, drumsticks are the favourite among these people.
Barely had the waiter placed the dish on the table, civil war broke out. And I thought I heard the thunders roared. Oh! Thundering typhoons. Oh! Blistering barnacles.
While the incumbent tried to snap up the drumstick, incumbent-in-waiting reached across the table and fought fiercely for the same piece of drumstick. A clash of the mighty chopsticks. All this while, both wore a look of tranquil on their faces but let their fingers do the walking. Ada!
What about the next available piece of drumstick? Well, the same saga repeated.
I watched in glee, but somehow tried to stifle my giggles by chewing on red chilli. I choked, of course, and gave a pathetic look, which happened to save the day. Had I burst out laughing, I would sense that I would be eaten alive, flesh and bones.
I leaned back and watched the saga, still trying to spit out the chilli seed wedged between my molars.
Fast forward.
I have a choice, and prefer the humble, boneless part of the chicken. Moreover, there are more pieces, and do not taste as tough as how some people commended.
As the other knights of the round table noticed that I was not entangled in the battle, they began to observe why. A few kaypoh knights picked up each a piece of the breast meat just to “check it out”. They never had the intention to eat it. After poking the meat and playing two rounds of “guess my taste”, they left the breast meat on their plates. OoOoOoOoh!
They would have preferred wings (or was it the posterior). Now, their actions significantly reduced my share of the fowl. And I am fuming mad.
What am I to do?
To each his niche.
(This may be too big a mouthful to pronounce to some people, but then again, whether it is too big a mouthful or not, it is none of my business.)
I was forced to join a 9-course meal with the incumbent, incumbent-in-waiting and other knights of the round table. The incumbent was none other than the grand dame, who has “eaten more salt than you have eaten rice”. (May her not suffer from kidney failure, aye-see ahh!)
[Edit:The price of rice has rose significantly than that of salt, so who says rice-eaters are worse off than salt-eaters? Hmmmm... ...food for thought here.]
Fast forward.
The waiter served the next dish: Crispy skin chicken.
Now, drumsticks are the favourite among these people.
Barely had the waiter placed the dish on the table, civil war broke out. And I thought I heard the thunders roared. Oh! Thundering typhoons. Oh! Blistering barnacles.
While the incumbent tried to snap up the drumstick, incumbent-in-waiting reached across the table and fought fiercely for the same piece of drumstick. A clash of the mighty chopsticks. All this while, both wore a look of tranquil on their faces but let their fingers do the walking. Ada!
What about the next available piece of drumstick? Well, the same saga repeated.
I watched in glee, but somehow tried to stifle my giggles by chewing on red chilli. I choked, of course, and gave a pathetic look, which happened to save the day. Had I burst out laughing, I would sense that I would be eaten alive, flesh and bones.
I leaned back and watched the saga, still trying to spit out the chilli seed wedged between my molars.
Fast forward.
I have a choice, and prefer the humble, boneless part of the chicken. Moreover, there are more pieces, and do not taste as tough as how some people commended.
As the other knights of the round table noticed that I was not entangled in the battle, they began to observe why. A few kaypoh knights picked up each a piece of the breast meat just to “check it out”. They never had the intention to eat it. After poking the meat and playing two rounds of “guess my taste”, they left the breast meat on their plates. OoOoOoOoh!
They would have preferred wings (or was it the posterior). Now, their actions significantly reduced my share of the fowl. And I am fuming mad.
What am I to do?
To each his niche.
(This may be too big a mouthful to pronounce to some people, but then again, whether it is too big a mouthful or not, it is none of my business.)
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3 comments:
veri the chim leh!
next time go out with teacher, i think i order ice kachang will do....save me from your theory...hahahhaha.
next time, i call u miss theory...LOL.
what did i juz say??
What you order to eat/drink is
none of my business, agree ?
As for miss theory, S.I.M.I.L.E. ??
(Si Mi Lai Ehh)
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