The Soup Dumpling Gang
In the end, it was worth all the aggravation.
My sister, auntie, and I kicked off the first day of 2020 with a fabulous Chinese meal that stretched my waistline and pushed my anger management skills to stratospheric levels.
We had been getting takeout from the fabulous Flatbush eatery Wing Hing on New Year’s Day for a while, but we stayed local last year and went to a place called E Noodle in Bay Ridge.
It’s close to home, the food is spectacular, and they serve that most astonishing of appetizers—oh, God, help me—soup dumplings.
I first tried this indescribably delicious delicacy a few years ago at a Chinese restaurant in Bensonhurst.
Having never heard of this dish, I mistakenly thought my companion meant “dumpling soup” and had gone temporarily dyslexic on me.
“No,” she insisted. “These are soup dumplings.”
Yes, exactly. The dumplings have the soup inside them and they’re so sinfully yummy they can drive your taste buds to distraction.
Unfortunately, none of the Chinese restaurants in my neighborhood offer this edible ecstasy—until E Noodle opened its doors.
So, naturally, I was monstrously pumped when I strolled through the front door of this Fifth Avenue establishment and took my appetite off its leash.
However, I noticed that the crowd this time was much bigger than it was last year. A year ago, there were plenty of empty tables. Now the place was wall-to-wall bodies.
Secondly, the management at E Noodle apparently has a rather liberal view of reservations. When we asked about our table for three, which my sister had reserved for 1pm, the attitude was something along the lines of “well, isn’t that nice?”
I was tired from the New Year’s Eve festivities, I was being jostled from all sides, my head rang from all the chatter and clatter, and, worst of all, I was being forced to wait for my dumplings.
I could feel the blood pressure rising and I had talk myself off the ledge.
Keep it Together
This is the very first day of the new year, I reminded myself. You can’t fall off the anger wagon now, for God’s sake. Wait till February and join all the other res-o-losers.
I grabbed hold of my middle finger, employing a jin shin jytsu anger control technique and took deep breaths. We finally got a table without me throwing plates of lo mein at the walls, which I consider a minor victory.
Next, we had to get a waitress, which required roughly the same skills used in calf-roping contests.
We finally got one to part with some menus and we decided to help move things along by writing down the number of each dinner.
But when our waitress finally returned from whatever dimension she had been visiting, she told us that she didn’t know from numbers and handed my sister some slips of paper.
“Here,” she said. “You write down the dishes you want.”
And then she vanished into the vortex, leaving us with blank paper and even blanker looks.
By this time, I was ready to launch into my Charleston Heston, Planet of the Apes “It’s a madhouse!” routine.
But I refrained.
Another waitress stopped by to collect the sheets of paper and jokingly offered my sister her apron so she could serve the food, too. At least I think she was joking.
Finally, our appetizers arrived, and I took my first bite of my soup dumpling just bursting with hot broth and shrimp.
“Holy shit,” I muttered, my eyes rolling.
And then I left the real world, taking to sky on a dumpling high. I felt like the astronaut at the end of 2001: A Space Odyssey, sailing through an epicurean laser light show.
Yes, the soup dumplings really are that good.
My mind flooded with forgiveness, I suddenly didn’t care about the long wait, the nonstop snubbing, or seeing my sister being drafted as a waitress. I just wanted my dumplings.
“They make you work for these,” I said, or dreamed, I’m still not sure.
The place eventually thinned out and we worked our way through the main dishes. Everything turned out fine in the end and I learned that I have more control over my temper than I realized.
I can get hold of the anger. I can behave rationally and with practice, I’ll get better.
Just don’t make me wait too long for those soup dumplings.
My sister, auntie, and I kicked off the first day of 2020 with a fabulous Chinese meal that stretched my waistline and pushed my anger management skills to stratospheric levels.
We had been getting takeout from the fabulous Flatbush eatery Wing Hing on New Year’s Day for a while, but we stayed local last year and went to a place called E Noodle in Bay Ridge.
It’s close to home, the food is spectacular, and they serve that most astonishing of appetizers—oh, God, help me—soup dumplings.
I first tried this indescribably delicious delicacy a few years ago at a Chinese restaurant in Bensonhurst.
Having never heard of this dish, I mistakenly thought my companion meant “dumpling soup” and had gone temporarily dyslexic on me.
“No,” she insisted. “These are soup dumplings.”
Yes, exactly. The dumplings have the soup inside them and they’re so sinfully yummy they can drive your taste buds to distraction.
Unfortunately, none of the Chinese restaurants in my neighborhood offer this edible ecstasy—until E Noodle opened its doors.
So, naturally, I was monstrously pumped when I strolled through the front door of this Fifth Avenue establishment and took my appetite off its leash.
However, I noticed that the crowd this time was much bigger than it was last year. A year ago, there were plenty of empty tables. Now the place was wall-to-wall bodies.
Secondly, the management at E Noodle apparently has a rather liberal view of reservations. When we asked about our table for three, which my sister had reserved for 1pm, the attitude was something along the lines of “well, isn’t that nice?”
I was tired from the New Year’s Eve festivities, I was being jostled from all sides, my head rang from all the chatter and clatter, and, worst of all, I was being forced to wait for my dumplings.
I could feel the blood pressure rising and I had talk myself off the ledge.
Keep it Together
This is the very first day of the new year, I reminded myself. You can’t fall off the anger wagon now, for God’s sake. Wait till February and join all the other res-o-losers.
I grabbed hold of my middle finger, employing a jin shin jytsu anger control technique and took deep breaths. We finally got a table without me throwing plates of lo mein at the walls, which I consider a minor victory.
Next, we had to get a waitress, which required roughly the same skills used in calf-roping contests.
We finally got one to part with some menus and we decided to help move things along by writing down the number of each dinner.
But when our waitress finally returned from whatever dimension she had been visiting, she told us that she didn’t know from numbers and handed my sister some slips of paper.
“Here,” she said. “You write down the dishes you want.”
And then she vanished into the vortex, leaving us with blank paper and even blanker looks.
By this time, I was ready to launch into my Charleston Heston, Planet of the Apes “It’s a madhouse!” routine.
But I refrained.
Another waitress stopped by to collect the sheets of paper and jokingly offered my sister her apron so she could serve the food, too. At least I think she was joking.
Finally, our appetizers arrived, and I took my first bite of my soup dumpling just bursting with hot broth and shrimp.
“Holy shit,” I muttered, my eyes rolling.
And then I left the real world, taking to sky on a dumpling high. I felt like the astronaut at the end of 2001: A Space Odyssey, sailing through an epicurean laser light show.
Yes, the soup dumplings really are that good.
My mind flooded with forgiveness, I suddenly didn’t care about the long wait, the nonstop snubbing, or seeing my sister being drafted as a waitress. I just wanted my dumplings.
“They make you work for these,” I said, or dreamed, I’m still not sure.
The place eventually thinned out and we worked our way through the main dishes. Everything turned out fine in the end and I learned that I have more control over my temper than I realized.
I can get hold of the anger. I can behave rationally and with practice, I’ll get better.
Just don’t make me wait too long for those soup dumplings.
Comments
HA! Rob, I freaking love how you described that. What a brilliant visual!
OMG...I can't believe she actually made YOU write down your order. WTF?!?!?
But I am so glad to hear that the aggravation was well worth it, once the soup dumplings arrived.
I googled E Noodle in Brooklyn on 5th Ave, just to see some photographs and it looks like a very nice place!
And BRAVO to you for achieving success in holding your anger. Well done!
Have a faaaabulous week, buddy!
Thanks for providing the Chinese name--and aren't they amazing!?!
Now that I have a place that serves them in my neighborhood, I can get them any time, but I'm trying to hold off and keep the magic alive!
And thanks for your support--I want to keep working on that anger management!
Take care!
Hey, buddy, what's the good word?
Yeah, this was place really pushed your buttons. And that business with my sister writing down our order--what the hell!??!
But then the food shows up and you forget how angry you were!
And speaking of angry, I'm devoting the New Year to anger management and this place provided me with some valuable experience--as well as a tasty meal!
Thanks so much for stopping by, Ron! Take care and have a great week!