Egg Custard

Our last couple of meals have been quite interesting, we visited another barbecue place just outside the North East corner of the old city. We walked past it everyday and it looks like a real locals hangout. It must seat over 200 people under a simple roof with a buffet in the middle full of different cuts of raw meat. You have a bucket with fiery coals in the middle of your table with a cooking plate on top and away you go. We went with a couple of friend we met and had a great time, the food was good, just unsure what we were eating most of the time. A couple of nights before that we spent the night buying various types of street food from the night market, between the four of us we sampled most things available. Most of the food were simple mystery balls or meat on a stick, we worked out that at one point the balls were octopus and the meat was pork belly but as for the rest of it we have no idea. We all survived with no ill effects and got to try some lovely...and some rancid...food. I think meat always tastes better on a stick. Last night we had a very disappointing experience at a Japanese restaurant. I had teriyaki beef as a set meal which included miso soup (good), the beef and rice (fine) and egg custard. Now in my mind the egg custard was going to be like a custard tart back in the UK, just without the tart bit, but nicely sweetened and a nice finish to the meal. Having demolished all my other food rather promptly I set on my egg custard. When I touched it it was warm which I wasn't expecting, but custard is often warm so I'd go with it and with my mouth watering, waiting for that sugary goodness I dipped my spoon in a placed it in my mouth. My initial reaction was to spit it straight out again but I don't think Kinga would have been to happy being covered in what I can only describe as egg custard. It was like warm egg flavoured half set cream. Salty, eggy, just generally nasty and has no place on the table of torture victims let alone paying customers. Add into it the fact my mouth was fully expecting a lovely creme brûlée style dish please understand how upset I was with this vile creation that had made its way onto my palate. Being me I returned to it for another four bites before finally giving up and classing it a lesson learnt. Upon reflection I must admit when I think of the term egg custard that was pretty much what you should be getting, if you order it in England and get this wonderful, velvety, sweet temptation then you should be surprised and delighted that in fact tastes nothing like warm egg juice. Kinga's side of the meal, while underwhelming, was ok.

All this talk of food brings us nicely onto our next point from the other end. Although many place here do have Western style toilets it is always advisable to take toilet paper with you because here they like to you a little thing we know as the bum gun or bottom rocket. It is effectively a hose pipe with a high pressured gun on the end that you stick between your legs and give it a good squirt. As a man you want to be a good aim as a high power squirt straight on to your dangling custard eggs creates quite a moment on uncomfortableness. Out of interest I thought I'd give the bum gun a go and to be honest I am quite impressed, quick, efficient, makes you smile, seems like Asia could be onto something. There are only two major drawbacks, getting your head around who may have been holding the gun before you and when you are finished, how do you dry yourself. I went into that toilet knowing full well I was ready to give it ago, I was so confident I left the toilet paper outside. Impresses after a quick rinse I was now soggy, no hand towels, no tissue, nothing. I just had to pull my shorts up and hope no-one would walk behind me for the next hour or so as the questionable patch on my bum dried up. Of reflection I would recommend giving the gun ago, but still take your paper, I wonder how the locals dry themselves.