Frying Colours
In mid-January my parents came over for a brief visit. Unlike their usual 4-6 week stays, on this occasion it was only for a week. They were meant to have a relative with them, and I was tasked with organising a restaurant for dinner, with the usual ‘just book anything, anything is fine’. At the last minute our relative pulled out of the trip, but mum and dad ended up coming anyway.
I had booked a table at Frying Colours in Kensington Village. When Ma arrived, she asked me where I’d booked, saying suspiciously: “It’s not Chinese, is it?”
“No, it’s Korean.”
“Okay good.” (Yes, my Chinese mother doesn’t like Chinese food, something that she feels the need to remind me, not like I would forget being her daughter and all.) Then this was followed up by: “It’s not Korean bbq, is it? I don’t like bbq.”
Sometimes finding a place to eat out can be very trying!