Stinky Tofu: A Haibun Poem

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I really got a hankering for deep-fried stinky tofu. So I go to a stinky tofu shop.

The manager is yelling, “YES! GOOD! OK!” as loud as he can in English.

“Are you half deaf or just drunk on kaoliang?” I’m thinking.

“Can I get some kim chee with that?” in Mandarin I ask.

“YES! GOOD!”

A woman sits at my table who has just ordered. She’s across and to the left of me. Embarrassed because I’m a foreigner.

Then I’m back home in front of the TV in the blazing summer heat.

Chowing down tofu

Guzzling ice cold German beer

All Blacks at Springboks



Photo by Dylan Simel

Stinky Tofu: A Haibun Poem | Ecency