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Friday December 21, 2007

Jokes

A Christmas story

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and we, being Jews

My girlfriend and I — we had nothing to do.

The non-Jews were home, hanging stockings with care,

Secure in their knowledge St. Nick would be there.

But for us, once the Chanukah candles burned down,

There was nothing but boredom all over town.

The malls and the theaters were all closed up tight;

There weren’t any concerts to go to that night.

And while all I could do was sit there and brood,

My girl saved the night and called out, “CHINESE FOOD!”

We pulled on our jackets, all puffy with down.

And boarded a cable car bound for Chinatown.

The car nearly empty, it rolled through the stops,

While visions of wontons danced through our kopfs.

At last we reached Chinatown, rushed through the gate,

Past bakeries, markets, shops and cafes,

In search of a restaurant: “Which one? Let’s decide!”

We chose “Hunan Chozer,” and ventured inside.

Around us sat others, their platters piled high

With the finest of foods their money could buy:

Roast duck and fried squid (sweet, sour and spiced),

Dried beef and mixed veggies, lo mein and fried rice,

Whole fish and moo shi and shrimp chow mee foon,

And General Tso’s chicken and ma po tofu.

When at last we decided, and the waiter did call,

We said: “Skip the menu!” and ordered it all.

And when in due time the food was all made,

It came to the table in a sort of parade.

Before us sat dim sum, wontons and egg rolls,

And four different soups, in four great, huge bowls.

The courses kept coming, from spicy to mild,

And higher and higher toward the ceiling were piled.

So much piled up, one dish after the other,

My girlfriend and I couldn’t see one another!

Now we sat there, we two, without proper utensils,

While they handed us something that looked like two pencils.

We swallowed our pride, feeling vaguely like dorks,

And called to our waiter to bring us two forks.

We fressed and we feasted, we slurped and we munched.

We noshed and we supped, we breakfasted and lunched.

We ate till we couldn’t and drank down our teas

And barely had room for our fortune cookies.

But my fortune was perfect; it summed up the mood

When it said: “Pork is kosher, when it’s in Chinese food.”

And my girlfriend — well, she got a real winner;

Hers said: “Your companion will pay for the dinner.”

Our bellies were full and at last it was time

To travel back home and write some bad rhyme

Of our Chinatown trek (and to privately speak

About trying to refine our chopstick technique).

The MSG spun round and round in our heads,

As we tripped and we laughed and gaily we said,

As we carried our leftovers home through the night:

“Good Yom Tov to all — and to all a good night!”

With thanks to Harry Gluckman.

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