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Rushin' roulette >> Bubble tea, tapioca blobs and strange sushi on the fly at Sauve du Temps |
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We're very busy. All the time. Every day, we ingest scurvy medicine, organize dragonfly-staring contests, protest the (ab)use of italics, lick rocks, groom filthy prostates, finalize our steeplejack training, worship Lénine, breed our inner swampthing, bathe in Jesus's blood, dactylotype letters to the unknown and much more. Bref, the weeks fill up pretty quick. On n'a pas d'temps à perdre, surtout pas avec vous autres. Un jour, while waiting for that cocksucker la One-Sixty, we spot these words on a shop front: "Sauve du Temps." Ah, des gens qui nous comprennent, peut-être? En plus, on the get-the-sixth-bubble-tea-free card, it says "Win Time." Des vrais bilingues, enfin. On entre. The walls inside are yellow and purple. There's not much on them, except faux flowers and framed glimmery drawings of fluffy kittens sitting in a basket, looking evil as fuck or fleeing a bouquet of roses. Il y a aussi des tables, comme dans presque tous les restaurants, green plants, a magazine rack, big, clean windows and a wee sign hidden low behind the brick column: "Merci de ne pas fumer." If you can't smoke, why linger, right? Behind the counter stands the kitchen, with a massive wok as black as an oily night. The whole menu is hand-written on the wall in big square letters. C'est super simple et les prix sont l'fun: three appetizers, three chow meins, four fried rice and five sushi combos. Spring roll and sweet & sour soup are $1.50 each; chow meins come with vegetables ($5.29) or vegetarian steak ($6.79) and for $5.29 you can get fried rice with a slice of mock tuna. To keep the tonsil wet, there's bubble tea ($2.49). "Lait ou jus?" "Quelle saveur?" "Tapioca?" Jus, pomme verte, non! Lait, mangue, oui! On niaise pas ek' le puck. The first drink is vert luciole en chaleur. It's so incandescent green, people stare. It's also overwhelmingly sweet, faut garder le kit d'insuline à portée d'la main. Ça fesse dans l'dash. And no tapioca means no bubbles, just ice. And green. The second drink is a nice biliruben and cream colour and tastes like an island drinking binge. It's so sweet there could be Pennzoil in there and we'd keep on drinking like blissful idiots. Just like cannibalism and tortellini sandwiches, once you get used to it, chewing tapioca ($0.50) blobs is surprisingly enjoyable. So is spitting them at ugly white dogs. Hey, who's this colossal tube filled with coarsely shredded cabbage, carrots, things and stuff? C'est le spring roll. C't'une belle branche. It's fresh. It's not microwaved. It coats les babines with a delicate film of oil, plus besoin d'make-up, jamais. Spicy sauce is a dashboard of samba olek from the jug behind the cash register. Don't call complaining the sushi isn't the real deal, it isn't. Ici, c'est comme ça. Actually, all their sushi is a variation on this theme: lots of plain rice, nori, julienned carrots, cucumbers, maybe avocado, and tiny filaments of something dark pink and slightly chewy (in a good, weird way). The 4 Saisons ($4.29/4) are tear-shaped. The Acajou ($5.29/9) are rolled in noix d'acajou, with extra crunch and protein. And the Gros Sushi are big, like small, twirly patties. Is there time to be won at Sauve du temps? On the first visit, we clocked in the order at 13:03 and were back on the street at 13:10. Second time around, we went in at 12:55 and were out the fly screen at 13:06. And they ain't no chow mein nazis either, just a resourceful unit cooking odd & tasty food. Les différents, c'est toujours les meilleurs, anyways. Win snail mail, gagnez d'l'escargot dans vot' boîte aux lettres. Cheapmotel@hotmail.com Sauve du Temps |
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