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I nodded.
We joined the queue. It moved quickly, despite its length. When we got to the front, the hawker man behind the counter greeted us with a wide, toothy grin. “What can I get for you today, young couple?”
A rush of embarrassment scorched my cheeks, but I didn’t bother to correct him. Neither did Neil.
“What’s a vegetarian dish you recommend?” Neil asked.
“Ah, for our vegetarian friends, how about some vegetable dumplings and fried rice? Both are very good.”
“Does that sound okay to you?” Neil asked me.
“Sounds perfect.”
“Yes. We’ll take it. Enough for the two of us.” Neil handed a wad of cash to the hawker. “Keep the change.”
“Thank you, sir.”
We stepped out of the queue and watched from the sidelines as a cook prepared our order, folding dumpling wrappers filled with veggies and spices, then adding them to a bamboo steamer. Meanwhile, a wok sizzled with a medley of colourful veggies, the scent of garlic and onions filling the air.
A few minutes later, loaded with plates piled high, Neil and I searched for a vacant table.
“Here.” Neil pointed out a lone empty table surrounded by a cluster of occupied ones.
As soon as we sat down, I noticed the table was wonky on the uneven pavement, but somehow that only added to the rustic charm of the experience.
“Go ahead.” Neil said, breaking apart a pair of disposable chopsticks and passing them to me.
The first bite offered a powerful burst of flavour, with a blend of crunchy vegetables, savoury seasonings, and delicate dumpling wrapper. The fried rice proved equally satisfying. Each mouthful brought together the nuttiness of the jasmine rice, the sweetness of fresh vegetables, and the umami of soy sauce.
“What do you think?” Neil asked.
“Delicious,” I mumbled with my mouth half-stuffed.
Neil seemed more interested in watching me eat than his own meal. I tried to pace myself, matching his controlled tempo, savouring each morsel.
“You used to eat here often?” I asked.
“Yes. It hasn’t changed much.” Neil glanced around. “Maybe a few new vendors.”
“When I was cleaning your house, I got the impression you don’t cook very often.”
“You’d be correct. Cooking isn’t my strong suit. I’d like to learn how, but I don’t have the time. What about you?”
“It’s too expensive to eat out. I cook my own meals.”
“Commendable.”
I shrugged. “Not really. I just do what I have to do.”
“Trust me, in my position, you start to long for the taste of home cooking.”
“I’ll bring you my leftovers.”
“You’re being facetious, but I would seriously take you up on that offer.”
I pushed my food around on its plate. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.”
Neil huffed with theatrical indignation. I smiled to myself, adoring how receptive he was to my teasing.
