Compare

The women were too startled to say anything.

The man called Sam began, "Ladies, I don't think it is fair to compare the English examination of the two kindergartens."

"Why?" Christy and Hilda asked, almost together.

"Because the two examinations are very different in their format," the man explained, "Our friend from the Island tests only the spoken language or, in reality, the presentation skill of their kids. Examinations of the Countryside is supervised by a panel of fully trained educationalists - including, I dare say, my humble self. Our format is comprehensive as well as scientific. We test the capability of reading, writing, recall memory, creativity, and a number of other domains. Our scoring system is fair and objective. In short, it conforms to the modern theory of elementary education."

The women listened with their mouths wide open. A good while later, Christy, who was supposed to master explicit vocabulary better, said, "Who cares about your bloody format? We are talking about the content of the examination! What good is there to have an ideal format if the content is rubbish? Bullshit remains bullshit despite being wrapped by colourful papers and a silk ribbon!"

The man looked blank. As always, educationalists could not comprehend four-letter English words or three-word Chinese phrases.

Different

(Their discussion continued.)

After a moment of silence, the Christy went on rather abruptly, “Oh, Hilda, I remember now. Your son Isaac is also studying K3 in the Island Kindergarten. What did he have for his English examination?”

“Alas, that could hardly be called an examination,” the Hilda blushed a little, “Each and every student of his class was asked to take turn and tell a short story in English in front of the whole class.”

“You see? That’s what we call a relevant examination – it is testing a meaningful aspect of their English skill!” Chirsty almost screamed.

****************

"Em... excuse me..." All of a sudden, a voice appeared from the back of the two women.

There stood a middle age man.

He moved forward, bowed in an exaggerated manner, and introduced himself, "Ladies, I am Sam, an educationalist - in fact, I am a teacher of the Countryside Kindergarten. May I join the discussion?"

Question

(Conversation that I overheard between two women.)

“Christy, how is your boy doing? Charles is now K3 in the Countryside Kindergarten, right?”

“Hilda, your memory is fantastic,” the woman called Christy nodded, “To tell you the truth, I am slightly disappointed with the final examination of his kindergarten.”

“Why?” That Hilda asked.

“Let me take English as the example. Charles was asked to list ten words that begin with X.”

“My god! How’s that possible? I know only xylophone. Em… X-ray may be counted as another. Oh, I think I would fail the examination!”

“I think an ordinary university student of Cambridge or Harvard would fail. However, my worry is not about how difficult the examination is, but how relevant. Excuse my language, but, what the hell is the value of knowing ten words beginning with X? They are all exotic entities that never appear in our daily use.”

Anonymous

“That’s your paranoid idea.” Ada says. Her face turns dark red.

“Is it? We need to be paranoid when we are dealing with human beings.” Philo says to himself. For obvious reasons he says something different aloud, “Ladies, there is another philosophical reason for me to disagree with your plan of a bloody mantou. To put it simply, medicine should be anonymous. The patient would not know who provides the ingredients or who makes the remedy. He takes it and gets better. That’s it. However, in the scenario of mantou, there is no way to hide the source of the blood, which, in that case, could be bought or bribed.”

Sibella and Ada remain silent. They are trying to figure out what the man is getting at. However, Julia shakes her head again, “My friend, we could do very little to help our father. I know the suggestion of bloody mantou is silly and it would never be executed. All we want to do is to show our opinion and raise the concern for our father’s health.”

“In that case, are you implying that I agree to give up if I were going to agree with your suggestion?” The man says, “In that case, I beg to disagree again. I still believe there are something solid that we could do to make your daddy better. It is nothing more or less than a coward to express an opinion that would never work out and then walk away."

Worry

Julia listens quietly and shakes her head, “My friend, you are too obsessive about the details. If you join us and choose one from the three, you are just putting up a gesture that you agree our daddy is ill and he needs some medicine.”

“That’s a strange statement to come from you, Julia,” Philo smiled, “As a barrister by training, you should know better than me that if I choose from your remedies, I am expressing more opinion than I am prepared to agree, and, I dare say, the actual content is something I disagree. As George Crabbe said, that was all wrong because not all was right.”

“Why are you against the idea of mantou in blood? It seems a fantastic treatment in theory. Do you have any evidence that it doesn’t work?” Siebella asks.

“No, but, on the other hand, I have no evidence that it works. Very few people had such a treatment in the past,” the middle age man says, “Well, my initial worry is a humble and tactical one. If that bloody mantou is really chosen as the treatment, each of you three will arrange your own medicinal bun for your father. That is, three in total! Not only would the old man find it difficult to tolerate, the effort against your evil brothers would be divided and whatever they decide to do would be unopposed.”

Treatment

“But the lung problem is so obvious!” Sibella says. She is subconsciously clenching her teeth.

“I must say it is not that obvious to me,” Philo is not moved, “Well, let’s take it aside and consider the problem one level higher. That is, if your father really has an occult lung infection, is your bloody mantou a good treatment? For example, taking a good rest in a sanatorium of Davos may be a good choice.”

“No! Our daddy needs an active treatment. Medicine or injection or whatever.” Ada raises her voice further, “Staying in a sanatorium is not a treatment. It means waiting for death.”

Philo wants to say sanatorium is actually the standard treatment for occult lung infection in most of the developed countries. However, he understands this fact is not going to be welcome by the women in front of him, and he decides to change to focus slightly, “May be, or may be not, but my point is, if I choose from one of your three remedies, I imply I agree your diagnosis for Tobias is correct, and mantou with blood is the treatment of choice. But, as always, I am slightly skeptical with each of these statements.”

PS. For the true story of Davos’ sanatorium, go read The Magic Mountain of Thomas Mann.

Considerations

The three girls turn silent. In no time they think Philo is inexplicable. Shortly afterwards, they make up their mind and consider the middle age man an ally of their malicious brothers.

As an expert of mind-reading, Philo could see through all these. He decides to explain himself a bit more, “Ladies, I would love to support and agree with you, but I’m afraid I can’t – unless I betray my own belief and judgement.”

“What do you mean?” Ada asks.

“My dear ladies, let’s consider the problem at hand step by step. First, your father is ill. I suppose we all agree with this, don’t we? The first question is, therefore, why is he ill?”

“It’s got to be a lung problem – an occult infection.” Sibella says at once.

“Is it the problem? Excuse me, I may have to play with words and go one step further. Is lung problem or occult infection the major problem? In fact, is it a problem? Yes, old Tobias has weak lungs, but his lungs are weak since he was a child. Is it the cause of his current illness?”

Choose

All three girls recognize the man. He is Philo, a distant friend of their father.

"Excuse me. May I come in?" He marches in without waiting for an answer, "I pass by and just want to drop in and see how Tobias is doing. Oh, he must be in bed already. You are discussing how to help the old man, aren't you? Although you are talking about the same treatment, it looks as if you all have your own opinion or interpretation of the same remedy!"

"Very true." Sibella nods, "I'm sure you have heard all we said just a moment ago. As a good friend of our daddy, which one do you think is right? Come. Give us your opinion. Cast your vote."

"Alas, why should I?" Philo says softly.

"Why shouldn't you?" Julia pushes further, "We are believers of democracy. Oh, I see. You think we have limited your choice. Is that right? Don't worry. What you choose doesn't really matter. It is the procedure of choosing being important."

"My dear, that's exactly the reason why I do not want to vote. By the procedure of choosing, I imply I support the treatment with a blood-soaked mantou..."

Blood

"Why! I am thinking of mantou with blood all the time! Arthur told me that's a fantastic treatment." Sibella exclaims. Arthur von Blon is her fiance. He used to be a medical doctor in another country - or so he claims.

"Yes, I read about the remedy in the morning paper too," Julia nods, "It's not difficult to buy a mantou and find some blood. Let's go ahead."

"No, you do not comprehend," Ada shakes her head, "Mantou is easy, but it's a bit tricky with the blood. We need it fresh from someone who is beheaded."

"But there's no death penalty in this country! Oh, we cannot simply go around and chop off the head of whoever." Julia says, "Em... I think the critical issue is the blood must come from a prisoner. That could be arranged..."

"You are getting the wrong end of the stick!" Sibella finds she has to speak up, "What really matters is obviously fresh blood from the neck. I suppose we can get it from a surgeon. Arthur has several friends working in the hospital..."

"I don't think I can agree with either." Ada also raises her voice, "The remedy in the book is fresh blood from someone who is beheaded. We should not compromise a single word!"

"Em... Excuse me..." A voice comes from the entryway.

The three girls turn around - a middle age man is standing there.

Remedy

The difference in opinion is drastic. Tobias' daughters – Sibella, Julia, and Ada – all think that the old man is weak with his lungs and has some kind of mystic infection. On the other hand, his sons – Chester and Rex – believe their father has nothing wrong with his body, but just being depressed for his trouble-making daughters.

**********************
It is a warm Friday evening. Tobias retires to bed early. In fact, he has hardly eaten anything for dinner. Chester and Rex are both out for some “social function”. Sibella decides to take the opportunity and discuss the situation with her sisters.

“The old man must be having some kind of infection,” Sibella begins, “Tuberculosis or virus or whatever. But the doctor won’t listen to us. What should we do?”

“I’m just reading a monograph written by a Dr. Lu from China,” Ada says, “There is a good remedy for infections of this kind. We can give it to daddy.”

“That’s fantastic! What kind of remedy is it?” Sibella and Julia ask.

“Mantou (饅頭) soaked with blood,” the youngest sister says calmly.

PS. For the true story of mantou soaked with blood, go read Medicine (藥) of Lu Xun (魯迅).

Ill

Tobias is ill.

The disease, if there is only one, comes so slowly that no one is really sure when it starts. Looking from another angle, his health gradually fades as twilight. The sun has gone below the horizon but the sky remains bright. Then it turns, shade after shade, from dim to gloomy. A moment later, it is completely dark. Yes, he is an old man. But, just a few years back, he was absolutely astute and fierce. Now? It looks as if he is about to take his last breath at any moment.

The problem of the old man is he has several children but none could get along well with another. True, they all appear caring. (To their father, or to the money? Who knows?) They send for a doctor, who could not make out what's wrong with the old man. They send for another. Same. And then they fed up. They form their own opinions about the disease of their father.

Yes, I said opinions. Plural. More than one. Each of them has a different view.

Or, to say the least, there are two major streams of opinion.

(To be continued.)

D

(My discussion with L continued.)

"You know, my landlady is weired, but the really inexplicable tenant of my house is D," my friend said.

"Oh, I know him - and who doesn't?" I raised my eyebrow, "He is not a public figure. Well, not yet. But quite well known within his, that is, your, circle. He is outspoken and seems to know a lot about democracy. Alas, isn't it right that he is running for the representative of all you tenants? What's wrong with him?"

"You know, he speaks with the same frequency with our landlady, and consider himself not a tenant, but the godson of the old woman," L explained, "Well, that's his own view and not really the problem. What really touches me is, on one hand he keeps saying how his parents, before moving to this house, were badly treated by their previous landlady, but, on the other, he deliberately turns a blind eye to all the wrongdoings of his so called godmother!"

I could see the frustration of my friend.

Mental

Met my friend L during weekend. It has been quite a while since I last had the chance of chatting with him.

“My friend, I hear that your landlady has fallen sick again recently. How’re things getting on?” I asked.

“Do you mean, in your medical jargon, she has a flare up of her mental illness?” My friend said calmly. He was obviously not amused, “You are quite wrong there. I mean, my landlady is always a mad folie. Many a time she appears calm and content because no one touches her nerve and we don’t really pay much attention to her grumble.”

"Em... you may be right, but I suppose she's lost her nerve when she changes the tenancy agreement by her own will?"

"Alas, to her, there's no agreement as such," L signed, "To her, we are not her tenants, but children, and we give her money every month because we are doing our responsibility. For that reason, in addition to money, we should all love her - not the house, but her, the person - and she says repeatedly that she will run the house, including our rooms, in her own way."

生意

飯也轉眼便到。這裡的與其說是雞油飯，其實更似是雞湯炊飯，色水深，有些鮮味而不過鹹，也不似下了師傅。米身略腍，應是煮熟後焗得太久。整體而論，是有水準，倒没有什麼驚喜。

餐湯有一大碗。試一口，是椰菜加雞骨，還下了大量芫荽。夠熱，湯頭甚清，卻似乎另加了師傅。呷了幾口便放棄。

這時牛肉炒芥蘭也到。上桌時心下一沉，怎麼炒得水汪汪的？翻動看看，上面還有一條半吋長的菜虫。然而自己有下厨經驗，心想這不過代表這菜少有農藥，倒也不以為忤。姑且下箸，芥蘭並非如香港吃到的品種，而是葉多莖少，也没有平常芥蘭的甘味。是以這裡的糖、薑、酒一應不用，只下蒜茸和少許醬油，已炒得清嫩鮮甜，倒是出乎意料的好吃。這裡牛肉也下得慷慨，厚厚的有許多片。有肉味，炒得卻不算嫩滑，這大概是没有化學處理的效果。

碟頭不小，結果當然是菜吃完而牛肉剩下一半。看看錶，是六點半。店已全滿，門外還有一條短短的人龍。急急起身結帳，埋單十六大洋，相當合理。臨走前用半鹹淡的國語對收銀伯伯說：「老闆，好生意啊！」他望望我，沒有說話，一副啋你都傻的表情，兀自低頭繼續數錢。

逸群

最近往星加坡一行，留了三日兩夜。週日下午是空閒時間。黄昏時在殖民區散步，順道在逸群晚飯。

此店有數十年歷史，以海南雞飯在當地甚為有名。初於店外駐足，門面已頗陳舊。進店時是下午六時，店子卻已半滿。自行選了一角坐下，良久，嬷嬤才遞上餐牌。其實也沒有甚麼好看，順手便點了一人的海南雞飯，再加牛肉炒芥蘭。有趣的是餐牌是没有價錢的，點菜時嬷嬤卻提醒炒芥蘭要十個大洋，倒是非常均真。

雞立刻奉上。一人餐有差不多半個雞胸。斬得皮肉分離，上碟更有點不修邊幅，除了幾片青瓜，也没有其他配菜。再看，雞肉已去了大骨，卻仍有一些小軟骨，處理略嫌粗疏。然細啖之下，皮爽而不肥，雞浸得剛熟，有肉味亦不靱，倒是有真功夫。

蔡瀾常說正統海南雞飯調味品有薑茸、辣椒醬、珠油(即濃老抽)各一。這裡的卻一應俱無。雞上桌時倒附有一隻豉油碟。原來檯面便有這三樽調味，要加那種就悉隨尊便。自己下了醬油，卻竟然是日本製的生抽，不禁失笑。用雞肉點了一些試味，也没有什麼分別。這時鄰桌一位也是獨坐的老先生的雞飯亦到。只見他二話不說，起身走到老闆模樣的收銀伯伯身旁，拿起一個小瓶返回座位。原來那就是聞名已久的珠油。看來這裡只有熟客才有此優待矣。

Twenty

My recent leisure reading is What I Wish I Knew When I Was 20 by Tina Seelig.

It is a quick read – I finished half of it within a week and the rest on my recent flight to Singapore. The theme is simple (probably too much so): Unexpected opportunities are everywhere and we should tell ourselves everything is possible. Yes, that’s the kind of motto you hear from those self-help or mind-power courses. Nonetheless, the book is provocative and I do spend some time to consider what I wish I knew when I was 20.

Here are a few:

1. Investment is more important than saving.
2. There are no forever friends or enemies.
3. A people has died.
4. Revolution does not make things better.
5. I cannot do everything, but, for the few things that I could do, I should do them well.

Protest

(My discussion with Vivian continued.)

“Your argument appears water-tight. However, it doesn’t sound right to me.” My wife said.

“You know, a major assumption of my argument is the presentation that our trendy students were doing was a casual in-house event, and it really depends on your point of view.” I said, “On one hand, it is nothing serious because the summer research project is just a minor part of their curriculum, and no one would have to repeat the class because of a poor performance here. On the other side of the coin, the presentation is not a regular update of what they do, but the showcase performance of their project, and is attended by many of their supervisors and professors. Although I’ve seen many research students wearing T-shirts and sandals when doing their class presentations, I have never encountered a single student in that kind of attire in the oral defense of their thesis.”

“My dear, you are changing your conclusion! Are you for or against casual wear?”

“What I’m getting at is, students who insist to put up pajamas for their presentation are doing a protest subconsciously because they think that the summer project is nuts. The problem is not about costume, but the curriculum itself!"

Costume

During a casual discussion, Vivian asked if I had heard of the recent debate on Facebook about our students’ dress code.

“Who doesn’t?” I smiled, “From what I know, the story is simple. Some of our new generation students dressed up a bit too casually when they did the presentation of their summer projects. Others are more conservative and find it difficult to accept."

My wife nodded, "Quite true. What do you think? You are on the traditional side, aren't you? I must say I am getting more conservative as well. You know, I sometimes got mad when I see medical students - or even young doctors - going to the ward with funny T-shirts or sexy miniskirts under their white coat. Some of them even have their hair dyed in glittering colors!"

I chuckled, "My dear, you have a point there. However, I'm not sure I take the conservative side this time. There is an important difference between going to the ward and doing presentation of the summer project in front of your classmates. I suppose I have sufficient experience with postgraduate research students, both local and overseas, doing presentations when they are, literally, wearing pajamas! As long as it is an in-house event, I don't see any problem there."

Souvenir

After the visit, I received a souvenir from the headmaster.

Believe it or not, it is a one-page summary of my student reports for that six years.

For obvious reasons I shall not put up here the entire document. Nonetheless, I shall show you two small parts. I am sure they are self-explanatory.

PS. This small piece of paper is, no doubt, the best present that I ever receive in the past twenty years.

School

My alma mater changed a lot.

In the old days, it was in the middle of the Lion Rock, and used to run half-day classes. When the old public estate there was demolished and rebuilt in early 1990s, the school was also pulled down and moved to the bottom of the hill. Some years later, following the trend of every other primary school in the city, it is converted to whole-day class; the original morning classes continued to stay in the valley, while the afternoon ones moved to a new campus on the peak.

Not only the place is different, all teachers in my days have retired – the last one whom I knew did so three years ago, and the headmaster has changed more than once. This time, when I was introduced to the staff teachers and shown to the place, I suddenly came to realize what many people feel about their home country (祖國).

On one hand, the place is a stranger. On the other, you know absolutely well that you come from it and there is, somehow, a special affection.

Classmate

On a recent occasion, I had the opportunity of paying a visit to the primary school that I used to study.

The sequence of event is convoluted. I graduated from the primary school in 1979 and lost touch with almost all my classmates. Well, I have autistic personality disorder and could hardly make friend with any of them. The curious happening was, although I was studying the afternoon class in those days, I happened to be able to make acquaintance with a boy from the morning class while he was standing next to me when we took the graduation photo together.

He is YF. Our story continued to unfold in an amazing way. We went to the same secondary school and were in the same class for a whole five years. We studied medicine together – and he is now a radiologist doing private practice. Unlike me, YF continued to keep in touch with our alma mater. When the headmaster invited him to pay a visit recently, he asked me to join.

I duly followed.

PS. The very fact that he could communicate with someone with an autistic personality like me does not necessarily mean that he is also autistic; it could, and in this case it does, mean that he has an exceptional personal skill.

Delay

On a recent occasion, my colleague AC asked me why all stories that I outline in this blog are almost always delayed by at least a few days.

She was right, and my immediate response was nothing but evasive: Quite right. They are late.

In reality, I deliberately do so. Yes, it is easy to make a rush comment on whatever one encounter, and not too difficult a task to make it eye-catching. However, I would prefer to think it over, write it down, and leave it aside for one or two days before getting it published, so that I will not jump to the conclusion or write something that I will (easily) regret. The physiological principle is, when you feel hot, most of the blood goes to the skin, and your brain receives very little perfusion.

I write to express my considered opinion; the click-through rate is less of my consideration.

As William Shakespeare said (in The Merchant of Venice): I am not bound to please thee with my writings.

告白

My recent leisure reading is Murderer’s Confession about a Girl (關於少女的殺人告白) by Seinan Sato (佐藤青南).

It’s a crime fiction about child abuse and a girl from a broken family. Although supposedly original, the story is told in a way very much similar to Confession (告白) of Kanae Minato (湊佳苗), and I have a déjà vu feeling of seeing Yukiho Karasawa (唐沢雪穂) of Byakuyakō (白夜行) when I read about the unfortunate life of Aki (亞紀).

Nonetheless, I am not satisfied. The presentation is fragmented and slightly difficult to follow; it may be acceptable if it is a novel on theology or philosophy, but far from entertaining or reader-friendly if we take it as popular literature for the la(z)y public.

Nippon

While talking about the poor strategy of Nazi, I must say his counterpart in Asia – the Royal Army of Nippon – shared the same problem.

The original plan of Hideki Tojo was simple: The north-east part of China should be conquered quickly; the place was full of petroleum and iron, and should serve as the supply center for further invasion. (You would understand what I mean by supply center if you have ever tried the board game Diplomacy.) Unfortunate for the Japanese invaders, but fortunate for us, was that Manchuria under Zhang Zuolin (張作霖) was largely a deserted area. Yes, there were petrol and iron, but no facility for extraction.

And there came the tough luck (again!) of the Nippon Army (partly because their ambassador to Germany was rudely treated by Hitler but friendly hugged by Stalin): They decided to head south rather than west, leaving the rich ores of fuel and metal in Siberia and Ural untouched, while forcing their soldiers to evaporate one after another on Pacific islands.

Nazi

While talking about poor leadership, a sore example that Ronald Heifetz cites is Adolf Hitler.

No, I don’t mean the Nazi dictator was a good person. He did bring disasters to a good many people and fail miserably at the end. Nonetheless, there is much to learn from his terrific skill in leadership, politics, as well as military strategy. If you take aside his wicked aim, Hitler was immensely successful in leading his people to the destiny that he chose.

Or, we may phrase the question in another way: Is the Pied Piper of Hamelin a good leader?

We should appreciate his brain but despise his heart.

PS. Seriously, the failure of Hitler has very little to do with poor leadership. Some are poor military strategy, others merely bad luck. For example, if he did focus on the western front and form a better alliance with Hideki Tojo (東條英機) so that the Japanese army caught the attention of Stalin, things would have evolved in a very different direction.

Leadership

My recent leisure reading is Leadership Without Easy Answers by Ronald Heifetz.

The author is a psychiatrist by training but has moved to teach leadership and political skills at Harvard. Although the book sets out to discuss how to be a leader in general, nearly all examples that it cites come from the history of modern America. Published in 1994, Heifetz has the benefit of hindsight to judge these political decisions. For the same reason, it is easy for us to tell all mistakes that Heifetz makes when he comments on those (at that time) contemporary policies.

(In a sense, it gives me a funny feeling when reading the book some twenty years after it was published. The world changed so much. For example, it takes me quite a while to figure out the President Bush that Heifetz refers to is the father.)

Nonetheless, I cannot agree with Heifetz’s view – if there is one. No objective means for judging the quality of leadership is presented (and I am inclined to believe no such criteria exist). The feeling that I get is, in Heifetz’s eyes, a successful person is a good leader; that couldn’t be the case. Similarly, a leader that brings a good fortune to his people is not always a good leader

Just think of Faust.

Praise

Another household story that is better told in traditional Cantonese:

***********************
老竇放工一入門口，個女即刻撲埋嚟鬆毛鬆翼：爹哋，老師今日讚我乖。

老竇：咁奇？讚你乜？

阿女：午餐時，老師當住全班同學讚我食飯專心，冇掛住傾偈。

老竇(諗起個女喺屋企食飯時個花名叫口水瀑布)：真係？

阿女：係！我啲同學個個食飯時都掛住大聲同隔籬位傾偈㗎！

老竇：你調咗位咩？你隔籬個同學呢？

阿女：Clara呢兩日病咗冇返學。

(按：Clara就係阿女個隔籬位，而阿女又一啲都唔覺得老師嘅說話别有用心。)

白粥

二人吃蟹後已飽了大半，預訂的金錢雞此刻便至。一份四件，茶杯口大。除了正統三層雞肝、义燒、冰肉外，墊底尚未有一片烤饅頭。金錢雞之味覺物理，此前已有所述，而處燒得甚為到家。雞肝不老，冰肉不膩，乾身而帶焦香，墊底饅頭更是神來之筆。單以此味計，城中可稱首屈一指。

之後是肉桂話梅骨、薑汁芥蘭和白粥。前者肉桂味甚輕，但話梅甜酸，中和了排骨肥膩，甚是不錯。薑汁芥蘭剪裁得當，翠嫩清新，亦是上品。

然而二者雖好，此處主角卻是白粥。火路充足，底綿香而不見米粒，只有白果少許，誠然廣東米皇的最佳演譯。個人而言，吃慣了家母所弄稀飯，此粥倒少了一份童年回憶。這純是自己偏見，此品技巧上是滿分的。

甜品是杞子雪糕和杏仁茶。前者清淡，余不嗜甜，正合口味。後者以意大利特濃咖啡杯上，僅二口之份，熱、甜、滑、量，俱恰到好處，確是此餐最佳總結。埋單與前夜唐閣相近，何者優勝，倒視乎各人口味矣。

大班樓

唐閣後輾轉數日，便是內人壽辰。夜，於中環大班樓慶生。地點為彼所定，預訂金錢雞加二人套餐，倒不傷腦筋。

前菜是漬小蕃茄沙葛。酸甜合度，配以兩片炸九層塔葉，更有畫龍點睛之效。

之後是炸蟹盒。熱辣香脆，餡料亦足，只是隔油未夠，扣了少許分數。此味雖為傳統廣府食際，而今已少有人作。以余所見，蟹盒用料以濠江某吃蛇酒家最佳，炸功則以楓林小館為首。總的而論，這裡倒也不遑多讓。

再上湯品是粉葛紅蘿蔔㷛唐排。家常風味，夠熱，用料亦足，不過自忖也能辦到。跟着是一道彷彿泰式沙律之物。有酸芒果、洋葱、腐皮等。清新開胃，用以於主食前一清味蕾，是恰當的設計。只是份頭未免略大，如能止於兩口之量，便應足够。

主食是此處名物雞油花雕花蟹蒸陳村粉。蟹是上品，羔豐肉足，雞油香而不過份，反而花雕酒味甚重。内人謂烹煮之後，酒精應已揮發凈盡，此乃物理謬誤。實則明火炆炒，酒精高溫下確是所餘無幾，然而隔水而蒸，便大有不同矣。平心而論，此味確名不虚傳，吃得甚是盡興。蛋中挑骨，只能說陳村粉偶有黏結，蟹汁需自行拌匀也。