The folks are off. It was dark and there were a few stars out when we
said our farewells this morning. I followed the trucks to the front
gate and walked to the little Muslim restaurant where bamboo trays of
dumplings were already steaming over a coal fire outside. I sat by the
stove and ordered. Postage stamp noodles? Don't have. Beef and veggie
noodles? Don't have. What noodles? No noodles- dumplings and spicy
beef soup. Ok- that, and three dumplings. The soup was good- a heavily
peppered, spicy red broth soaking a pile of spinach, thin slices of
brisket, garlic, onions, tofu, and assorted fungi. The dumplings
tasted a little too clean, as in- liquid detergent tasting clean. I
paid my 50 cent bill and headed out for a busy day.
