Duck fajitas

Duck fajitas

I’m sure I’ll offend someone with this, but you know, it sure was good.

I’ve passed by the “Dragon Inn” several times. Prominent location in London’s China Town.

12 Gerrard Street London W1D 5PR

There’s the “new fook moon” place, an all-new feng shui cafe, but Dragon Inn is a venerable, traditional place. Been there a while. I’m still unclear of how I wound up there on Thursday night, but after settling in the “prix-fix” menu thing, the first course was that crispy duck fajita. Sure, they’ve got another name for it, but I still like my appellation better. Besides, who knows, I could easily see duck fajitas catching on as a culinary craze in the American Southwest.

Feast Day of St. Januarius
Third Century bishop. Patron saint of blood – banks. Donate a pint for the needy?

I took in the Shakespeare Globe’s production of “The Taming of the Shrew,” and what a rousing performance that was. All female cast. Adds a certain, ahem, depth of irony to the lines of that play. Points I should look up, does Petruchio really call his dog Troilus? After the show, I loitered about a bit and asked a steward what the weirdest question was she’d ever gotten.

“Little lad was in, wanting to know when we’d finish the place, you know, put a roof on it.”

Seemed to be a lot helicopters in the air Thursday afternoon, and the players all would take time, glance heavenwards, and make grimacing noises. Funny update to Elizabethan play-acting.

On my way over to the theatre, as I was ambling south from the Embankment tube station, I noticed that there was this huge mural, being painted, on the sidewalk below. I snapped a couple of quick shots.

Then, after a rousing performance, not quite as good as Richard, but pretty fun – especially with the ironic twist of an all-female cast – I stopped and chatted with the artist. She was just busking. No big deal, doing one kind of art to support another.

For taking time to chat with me, and since I did take a picture, I tossed a pound coin in her basket. Support the independent arts, you know.

About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in a trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.

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