after returning from the everglades past dusk, pu'esh and me went down Biscayne Blvd looking for the thai restaurant i had seen, a yellow sign saying taste of Siam. After the major crossing on NE36th st, the block with the fast food places whipped by, and then i started scanning the left for that yellow sign. Block after block went by, without the sign appearing. Can it be that far i wondered. around 19th i realized perhaps i'd seen it on some other street, perhaps south dixie, a good 14 miles away. darn, so we turned back, wondering where to get the food from. german ? black bread, suasage and sauerkraut, naah. peruvian ? raw fish, or potatoes and beef, tasty as the latter may be, not suitable for the diverse gathering at home. pollo tropical - rice and black beans and chicken ? they'd kill us, we have that often. that left sun inn, the faded chinese restaurant with a not so inexpensive menu. or mcdonalds. or taco hell.

we enter a smell of greasy soya chilly sauce, and some eerie strains of music. The dimly lit lounge is the size of a bathroom, a universe of red velvet with 4 red velvet chairs facing 3 plaster or ceramic frog and lion demons, balefully grinning.do they keep bad spirits off or what ? a potted plant lay dustily neglected in the corner.

a young middle aged man took our orders. purnesh ordered item after item, an array of fried rices with chicken and pork and shrimp and veg, followed by another battery of chowmiens. soups next, followed by appetizers. the chinese guy was unfazed, or rather as they say, inscrutable faced. all he said, granted with an upbeat accent was "next?, next?"

"arre pu'esh yaar, thats a lot of food.."

"theek hai, khaa lenge. kal bhi chala lenge, mummy doesn;'t have to cook."

"let me share the bill."

"no way, this is all company expense"

"yea right, your own company !"

grin

the man rapidfired the orders to the kitchen, his words ejected out like kung fu chops."hawh khong leonggh wha.."

We step out after that, as the food would be ready within 10 minutes. outside i see a car with a very attractive rare yellow metallix finish, only to see its a regular silver car reflecting the yellow sign. a cluster of bums hangin around a storefront, we barge inside to see its a general store. without us asking, the bums point next door.. the liquor store. inside laif oit with bottles from floor to ceiling, scraed to breathe or turn lest we bump into bottles. choose a scotch and a bottle of tosti champagne, and see that the countertop is inlaid with one cent coins placed in a hexagonal design, pretty cool.

back to the restaurant. we sit in the lobby, slowly becoming one with the greasy frying vapor, hanging on there in that cool lobby never penetrated by sunshine ever since the building came up.. "say, how long has this restaurant been here ?"

he shows two fingers.

"two years ??"

"thwen tih yahh"

"oh .. wow"

20 years. Inside, past the counter was the dining hall. Tables covered with white cloth, black lacquer chairs, mirrors on the ceiling, pink champagne on ice...ceiling fans languidly rotating hung from the ceiling. The hall was empty save for one table, where sat an opulently dressed obese man surrounded by two opulent women. An older man, and an even older man doubled as waiters and frontstaff. their skins however were smooth and sleek. hard to pin down their age, except for the gray hair.

the threesome finally slowly emerge and pass thro the lobby on their way out. The first lady, flashing with jewels all over, layers of paint on old skin, eyes luminous, well dressed in a coat and scarves. The second lady pretty much like the first. The man, bald, dressed formally in black and white with a red bow tie, extremely obese, rings on every finger, breathing audibly, heavily. The very image of the mafia. why are they dressed like that on a humid miami night ? the chinese man at the desk bows and grins obsequiously. "goo nite, come agin". An imperceptible nod from the man. They exit the door, leaving a trail of cloying perfume, greasy soya smell forgottten temporarily, but that soon reassumes control of the lobby.

We talk in hindi of chinese restaurants in jackie chan movies as having back rooms where hidden things happen, shady deals carried out, amidst the narrow stairways and red lanterns, maybe victims disposed off in dim sum the following weekend, or a weekend 5 years later. animal parts submerged in the array of bottles, or are these parts somehow more familiar ? dried herbs and flying foxes in sacks in dusty rooms, or are there other dried things as well ?

the food arrives, tubs of soup, containers of food, paper boxes of rice, dumplings, fried noodles, all in a large box.

"do you have fortune cookies ? the kids at home love them" says p. " yes yes of course" with the grin, and generous fistfulls of cookies heaped over the packed food. The bill crosses a 100.

we carry the fodder back to the car and head home, smells wafting inside. our clothes still cling on to the atmosphere of the lobby.