Speaking of tiny little takeout places, a few weeks ago I found myself inside Satay House, a miniscule hole in the wall on Durant Avenue. They have a little sign up notifying customers that one must choose the spiciness on the dish you order, 1-10 stars being "medium hot", 11-15 stars being "hot", and 16-20 stars being "very hot". The sign also warned, "We cook very spicy!" Since I love hot food, I asked for eleven stars. And was refused.
"No, look. I like spicy food. Very spicy food. I love it. Just give me an eleven," I said.
"You'll take three," said the woman at the counter, looking me up and down. "You don't want eleven. You want three, maybe four at the most."
After five minutes of back and forth arguing, I finally gave in and took the three. Since I'm actually blogging about it, you can probably guess where this all ended up. While the dish wasn't the spiciest thing I've ever had, it certainly had some kick to it. I'm not sure if they just did that to fuck with me (eg - "I can't believe a three is this spicy!"), or if they really are that hardcore. Regardless, an eleven will be mine. Even if someone asian has to go in and order it for me.
