NGM: the photo visit

I went back. And I took photos.

Neighbourhood Goods Market.

It's all the rage:

The clever homonym. Vegan do it too.

Whilst waiting for breakfast:

The scrambled egg and bacon roll, with the cheese and the rocket and the rosa tomatoes.

Breakfast

Yung Chen Noodle Den

It sounds ridiculously pretentious (I make full apologies), but I have often said that one of the Great Mysteries of the Universe is how it's practically impossible to find good Chinese food: whereas bad Chinese food has an apparently infinite supply.

Now some cynics may point out that this actually suggests that I don't like Chinese food. But this would be the same as telling the man that searches loudly and constantly for his perfect woman: "Dude. Have you ever thought that your not-finding-the-perfect-woman may mean that, well, you know, you're not really into women?"

Sometimes that may be true. But usually, it isn't. Much like people just know their sexual preference, I know that I like Chinese food. Only, I refuse to settle for one-night stands. Those leave me feeling cheap, and a little bit dirty after. And I always regret it. But at the same time, I suppose it doesn't really stop the Friday night search now, does it? 

I guess we're all dreamers like that.

And everyone has a story of "that one time". Mine was a Chinese Restaurant called the Paddyfields. It was in Oxford - the Oxford of university fame. Sherbet. I could weep. I just remember thinking that even the rice tasted like it was being hand-fed to me by a tame red dragon called Mushu. The same one that later was immortalised in a fully westernised movie about a homespun mandarin girl called Mulan who sounded a lot like Christina Aguilera when she sang about being reflected in a pond. 

Sadly, subsequent returns to the Paddyfields were never quite like that first time.

But I have good news. 

I have found a Chinese restaurant that is most promising. And (!!) it tastes good. Very good. Apparently, I've just been looking in the wrong places. 

If you want good Chinese food, it practically goes without saying that you have to go where the Chinese go. Not the westernised Chinese who float through Sandton and Bedfordview. No. You want old school Karate-kid style. And that's the Chinese quarter on Commissioner Street in Ferreirasdorp - right opposite Johannesburg Central. It's the original Johannesburg Chinese quarter. No english spoken there, boy. It's all:

 "You on Koh-Mi-Shna Sa-Ree-Ta".

Just before you hit Alexander Street and go under the M1, you'll find the Yung Chen Noodle Den. On your left. Painted a dull yellow with caged windows and floor-length white muslin curtains. You walk in, and it's all plastic and red wall hangings.

So I ordered. Sesame chicken and chow mein and stir-fried bok-choi in oyster sauce.

And then some inner suspicion made me ask if I could pay with my card. Which I couldn't. So I cruised down Koh-Mi-Shna in search of an ATM. For those in the know, this was NOT AT ALL ADVISED. Much like swimming in the Zambezi, you may be fine if it's just a quick dip. But any longer, and someone reptilian decides that you look tasty. 

Anyway, I made it to the Shell garage on the other side of the highway, and made it back: cash in hand, still in possession of my cellphone. And my virtue.

But so worth it. The food arrived. And just know that it's a good sign when I forget to photograph it for the first ten minutes. 

what was left of the sesame chicken by the time I remember to take a photo

the chow mein about half-way through

I know that the sesame chicken looks orange. And it was. But it was like Mushu had returned in true imperial style.

For a very reasonable price.

In a slightly dodgy neighbourhood.

Cash only.

Do it.