I am ashamed to admit that when I first moved to Happy Valley I refused to eat at this place...
I wish I knew the name of it, but as you can see - it's entirely in Chinese. And that's what threw me. My rule was, "I won't eat anywhere too local".
How painfully princessy of me! Not to mention incredibly boring.
B would be inside happily chowing away and I'd be off to Starbucks, where the menu wasn't scrawled down on paper in Chinese and I knew what animal parts I was ordering. But sour cream pringles and cardboard apple muffins lost their spark after awhile, and B's Wonton Noodles were starting to smell undeniably good. I was also beginning to feel malnourished, and B was glowing from the inside out.
Eventually I decided that being difficult was all a bit - well, difficult - and on one brave afternoon, B managed to charm me inside.
After all, how bad could it be if he was still alive.
I nervously slid into a chair and delicately sipped my Diet Coke while B took the liberty of ordering Singapore Noodles, Fried Chicken Wings, and Wonton Noodles.
A tiny bite here, hold the stomach, wait - nope, it's feeling ok! - and I'd take another slightly larger bite. Damn this stuff was tasty!
As I began to relax - even giving the odd accepting nod to the staff - I looked around me and noticed the place was absolutely packed to the rafters with locals, happily chattering away while wolfing down overstuffed plates with satisfied smiles on their faces. At lunchtime, there was a queue out the door!
And every last one of them was alive.
I really can be such an idiot sometimes.