If you were walking through the street of Shuang Lang (notice the singularity for “street”) (note: this will not be the last reference in this post about how boring Shuang Lang is), you’d definitely notice a small cafe with signs that loudly proclaim the “authentic French cuisine” it serves.
Even after being burnt numerous times by false Chinese advertising, we were still intrigued. And since there wasn’t much of anything else to do in Shuang Lang, we went in.
The first thing we noticed as we entered the cafe was a Caucasian hunched over his big ass computer playing Skyrim. Ok, it was the first thing I noticed, the first thing Jo noticed was that they served “European Coffee” and the cream puffs they have on display.
Talk about priorities.
There was another couple playing reversi in the cafe when we went in. Boredom is apparently a great unifier because we got to talking. We found out that Peter was from Hong Kong but made his living doing fashion design in Milan and then New York. He and his wife are in the midst of setting up a Bed and Breakfast for their retirement in Shuang Lang because “it’s such a peaceful village” (I had to bite my tongue).
Through Peter, we found out that Max (the gaming caucasian) is a classically trained french chef who retired to Shuang Lang too. The stuff he cooks is apparently “Michelin quality”.
I had a weird moment when it seemed like I’d walked onto the set of Kungfu Hustle where an innocuous neighbourhood is filled with kungfu experts.
After a while, Max actually paused his game to cook Peter his pasta and came over to chat with us for a while (it’s either that, or he might’ve been creeped out by my heavy and excited breathing on his neck as he gamed).
Max had sold off all his possessions in France and moved to Shuang Lang where he was able to buy over a “relatively affordable” shop lot/house. Since making rent is not an issue anymore, he can spend his days gaming and only get out of his gaming chair when there are customers. Then he can indulge in his other love – cooking. It sounded like an ideal life.
It was slightly pricey, but we could not resist the temptation. We bought the most expensive meal we had in a while – crepes with designer coffee (for her) and ice cold beer (for me).
It was good…
That’s the only picture we have of the food and the place. We were too busy demolishing the food to take photos, or, say… note the name of the restaurant…
Note: Jo is pretty sure the name of the cafe has a very French-sounding name like… “Amigo”.
I think her brains might’ve turned to mush by the boredom.