34th St Cafe, Austin
A thousand pardons. Yesterday’s post on the frozen dinner was whiney and repulsive. We both deserve better. So, as an antidote, I could do naught but to hie to the 34th St Cafe and get outside a so-called “Chinese hack salad.” What’s a Chinese hack? Hell if I know. I do know that this isn’t so much a salad as a species of giant, inside-out spring roll garnished with about 47 pounds of barbecued chicken. It is a gaudy, meretricious dish behind the concept and execution of which I throw my wholehearted support.
Although on accounta the chile sauce, today I pay the piper.
I hate that fucking piper. He thinks that just because he’s a virtuoso he can charge whatever the fuck he wants.