by Katerina la Vermintz
I happened to chance upon my dear friend Captain Country the other day. Many people may be acquainted with Cappy from the famous recipe he claims to have invented after being sent home from his posting in India: “Country Captain”. Dear Cappy was never much one for fact versus fiction, but these days one can find the cause of that in the fact that he lives in the Tyson’s Corner Mall.
I am nonplussed by the fact he should choose to live there, but he claims that it is pleasant . . . and that in addition it is a very comforting place of abode as one only has to look at the throngs of crowds filling the place endlessly just like so many faux designer lemmings – to be sure that the economy is doing quite well and fine, merci bien!
It can be difficult to talk to Cappy these last years – and difficile to savez whether that is due to his time in the infantry – or whether the cause is the primal therapy he undertook some time back. He is prone to letting out a wild shriek now and then which can be quite distressing. Nevertheless, he is a good old fellow and one must keep up with old acquaintances.
He took me to dine at a place he called a Mongolian Barbecue. It called itself a Mongolian Grill on its neon sign. I was shocked to find nothing recognizable about it from my days spent in Mongolia when I was a yak-butter-maid.
The most fascinating thing about the place were the little plastic wood bowls with which the customers parry with each other – each one trying to pile noodles in the bowl to the highest level without spilling over. The clear winner during my visit was a man whose noodles balanced at least six inches in a tower much like the hairstyles Marie (Antoinette, bien sur, the little slut) and I wore some years ago! A fine game this noodle thing was indeed! It fit the frenzied mood of the mall so fulsomely!
But here are some differences. Rely upon the information generated by the world-wide-web I must, for I will not deign to type out information from these heavy books that give sources. You must believe or not, at your own risk.
This is an authentic Mongolian Barbecue. Note: No noodles, no griddle thingie, no plastic wood bowls.
I must say that all in all it was jolly fun to see Cappy again though, and whatever this “Mongolian Grill” thing is, it was rather good.
If you have children, beware of taking them to have this Mongolian Grill thing. They will like it and want more and more. Then you will need make it at home and my dears. The splatter on the stove. You may want to faint. You may want to call for your ladies maid. You may have forgotten, she is no more. No no no. No more.