Balls of Bliss

I ate a cow today. And four pork balls. And red bean soup. And the best bubble tea in Chinatown (which means the best in Boston, which sadly also means the best in Massachusetts, and in fact, all of New England). I don't suppose you care to know what I ate today. But I am giddy over how good my hot pot tasted tonight and must share it with the world. When we saw how much beef and sides came with the order, (Former) Roommate Amy (not to be confused with me) and I were convinced I wouldn't be able to finish it all. Yet somehow I did. And had room for dessert. I've got to tell you: I. Love. Chinese. Balls. I don't know how we do it. They don't t taste like meat the way Italian and Swedish meatballs do (we have that kind, too), but they're processed and impossibly bouncy and tasty. Squid balls. Shrimp balls. Beef balls. Fish balls. Fish balls with ground beef in it. Balls. Balls. Balls. So wonderfully delicious. Especially the pork ones. There's this modern sculpture in one of Taipei's parks. It always reminded me of a Taiwanese pork ball, the way they cut an X at the top. When I was 4 and told my dad that, he thought I was wonderfully creative. When I was seventeen and told him the same thing, my father was a bit disappointed by how unrefined my taste for art was. But whatever. Balls!