I was in the neighbourhood of Cote-des-Neiges for a meeting, and I had time to get dinner. I hadn’t been back for ages, and I was feeling nostalgic. It was busy at the early hour of five thirty, and as a solo eater, I wasn’t sure if they would give me a table. Turns out it was no problem. First through the door, first served. I was grateful.
It was a weeknight, so I was pretty sure that the hot and spicy soup was still going to be a weekend thing. I ordered a tried-and-true vermicelli/imperial roll bowl. It was perfect, but it was different than I remembered.
I love a place that assumes that I can use chopsticks. I realized, like swallowing pills, swimming, riding a bike, and skating, I had made it clear to my daughter that being able to use chopsticks was not an option!
The rolls were delicious, better than I remembered. The sauce was that perfect sweet and fishy sauce I loved, immediately emptied the entire silver container over the noodles.
What was different was that the size of the bowl was smaller, the veggies were not a salad underneath, but a reduced quantity on the side. The noodles were enough, but less. The peanuts seemed generous.
All in all, both inflated and skimpflated, I loved it. For my reduced metabolic needs, and bigger budget than before, I enjoyed every bite in the noisy, small, busy, fast serving, and wonderful restaurant.
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