We all happened to be together on this particular Monday in October, just hanging out. We had thought about and valiantly tried to get ourselves into The City for soup dumplings in chinatown, but we had no choice but to abort that mission when faced with the dreary inevitability of our (my) unrealistic expectations.
Our matriarch's levity could not WOULD not be dampened by the change in plans, and I suspect that she and the vast majority of my family members were relieved to end our time together with an effort that was less herculean. Mom figured if we couldn't get to chinatown, we'd simply go to China.
If you google "Best chinese food in Norwalk" then filter to highlight those who serve booze* and are open and can take a party of 10 right now, you will find yourself at none other than the Village Gourmet, baby.
*they do not in fact serve booze, but you can bring booze! Ellie brought an oscar chock full! Winning!
So anyway, there we were.
I share the following photos to show you part of the scene, sure. But mostly because of Clara's face. And my mom; look how utterly gorgeous she is!
While the canned pineapple on a toothpick was a delightful and much appreciated confection for this special day, we also received obligatory fortune cookies.
I love fortune cookies. One time I went to a fortune cookie factory in San Francisco's chinatown. Did I ever tell you about that? Please hold.
I guess I didn't. But I feel like I did. Sigh.
Anyway, I often take my kids to dinner at the Japanese joint down the street where the sushi is fresh and cheap and the service is sometimes great. We always used to get fortune cookies with our bill and I would take a photo and post it to facebook with the caption 'fortunate'.
One day they brought the bill with a handful of lame hard candies, and we cried and the tradition died. Now the candies are in a bowl by the cash register and the bill is just paper. Sucks.
But I digress! I do love fortune cookies, so imagine my chagrin that day at the Village Gourmet when the delicicies were passed around and there were none left for me! I had, of course, made everyone read their fortunes as they opened them, waiting patiently for my turn in the spotlight. Then when the tray came back around to me, it was empty. Meanwhile, my brand new brother in law was parked right next to me, munching happily with a little pile of hoarded fortunes at his place.
His fortune - well his or rightfully mine, we'll never know - read: "you have a heart of gold"
And what can I say? When in Rome: