Gone, Daddy, Gone

I love Asian food. I mean, I really love Asian food. Chinese, Thai, Vietnamese, Japanese...love it. I could eat any one of those at least once a day and not get sick of it.

I'm also not so great about cooking at home. I actually know how to cook, and I'm not bad, but by the time I've fought my way through my job for 9-10 hours, a lot of times I'm pooped by the time I get home. So do the math - this means I order in a lot. And often times, you guessed it, it's Asian, and most likely Chinese.

I don't even know how I stumbled across the Chinese place I've used for the last, geez, seven...eight years, but they've been my mainstay, so much so that the lady who answered the phone knew my voice (is that pathetic or comforting? I'm still not sure). I probably ordered from them at least once every two weeks. Again, do the math - I know that place very well.

Recently, I deduced that they changed hands and now have a new owner. I started to pick up on it around Christmas. I called to order Kung Pao something and the lady didn't answer. It was some new chick who I had to explain everything to (no, I know it's already spicy, I want it extra spicy, and no white onions). And the dishes I usually ordered were delivered to me with new things in them. Green peppers in the Kung Pao? Snow peas in the Garlic Chicken? Tasty, but different.

And now, after repeated attempts to get a hold of them this weekend and no answer, I went down there, like a concerned friend, to see if everything was ok. Sure enough, they're remodeling.

Is nothing sacred???