I always start with a cup of barley tea to steady myself and then dip right into the #2 soup—a bowl of clear broth filled with Korean dumplings, mushrooms and succulent slices of rice cake. It’s the slices of rice cake that do it to me, if you wanna know the truth. They’re wet and smooth and slip down my throat like a naughty French kiss, leaving me randy and warm. I sit in the red vinyl booth and wonder if anyone has noticed I’m blushing.
Sitting on my left shoulder, the hoochie in a Juicy Couture tube dress says “Go for the thick chocolate ganache layer, girl, give it up!” While the Sandia Prep virgin on my right says “Eh hem, shouldn’t you start with the lemon curd layer first?”
Sweet or sour? Guilt or confession? Lucky for me, I’m Catholic and so I dive right in with a fat forkful of both and figure I’ll just ‘fess up in the morning.
If it’s not busy and you’re feeling particularly single, just ask Johnny about the merits of a bloomy brie. You’re guaranteed a sparkle in those baby blues of his and a long, passionate discourse on cheese that’s bound to leave at least one of you very, very creamy.