Last year I mentioned my favorite restaurant in a post. Shortly thereafter the walk became too long and the flies too many. Even after months of eating in a new restaurant people continued to ask me about the people in the blog photo. "Sorry, I really don't know," I would admit, "I don't eat there anymore." I have found a new family.
The "kitchen" is located at the front of a room, with two burners and a fan running throughout the day. The husband and wife take orders, scooping ingredients from bowls on the tables behind them. There is a fridge on the side that I've never seen them open.
Their children (a 5th grade boy and high school girl) help with cleaning and cooking duties when they are home from school.
If the main restaurant (two tables) is crowded there is a room downstairs (two more tables). At the back of this room is a large curtain that covers the living space (2 beds) for the family.
When I spit inedible things on the floor of the restaurant I rarely think about the fact that this is where they live. Thinking this way is unnecessary: it will all be swept up soon enough, and this is the culturally appropriate way to get rid of used napkins, bones, or spicy peppers.
Perhaps my favorite thing about this restaurant is the view of the neighbors. This was taken from my table: