As I take my first bite of my fried chicken or ramen with a poached egg, I swell with happiness.
I thought of a kid named Woody, who, on a backpacking trip I'd taken as a teen-ager, had given me a bite of fried robin.
But that's not the initial message as Mr. Emanuel's Web site captures his every bite of waffle or fried chicken.
I was determined to give myself the full Wok n' Roll experience, which is to say a pile of General Tso's the size of a supermarket turkey, with the light sweetness of fresh fish swapped in for the traditional chicken, under a sauce that just coats the meat, soft as a caress, not too cloying, countered by the sourness of vinegar, the bite of stir-fried hot pepper.
Punks can be bit of a handful.
That might be bit of an exaggeration.
"My tongue is not too blistered to revel in the distinct layers of heat in the bright orange dipping sauce," she observes about biting into a Malayan fried chicken wing.
For a heartier dish in which you get something different in each bite, go for "the works," with nuggets of the house sausage and a fried egg on top, the yolk still molten.
Bite into a piece of fried milk, and you'll first notice the crunch of the breaded shell, then the contrast of a soft, velvety center that sometimes oozes into your mouth.
SO here is where you want to be right now, all of you who care about good food and the theater of eating it: sitting in a booth in the back of the Dutch, alternating bites of red shrimp and fried green tomatoes with hits of dry Vouvray.
