Snowy rain on Grand Street. It's the evening before Christmas and the hustle and bustle of the area has disappeared. We're entering a little chinese restaurant that is still open. While we're ordering some starters and main courses from the menu, the owner perks up his eyebrow. "But fish is on pong!", he remarks. We look at him wondering what he's trying to say "Fish is on pong!", he repeats. "it's on pong!" We look at each other, absolutely clueless what he's trying to communicate. "The fish is on pong?", I ask, trying to understand. "Yes, on pong.", he reassures.
Silence.
"Ah, the fish is on bone?!"
"Yes, on pong!", he smiles.