One of the best parts about living in New York is exposure to ethnic food from around the world. The other day I found a dollar on the ground. Several hours later, I found myself in Chinatown, walking by a stand that said, "Hong Kong Cakes, 15 pieces, 1 dollar"
Don't tell me there is nothing you can afford during these trying economic times! I felt like I was in one of those stories your 70-year old uncle tells--about fighting overseas and, during peaceful times, being able to eat sweets for pennies. The dough balls tasted like condensed crepes, all warm and spongy and with soft, cakey sweetness in every bite. Fifteen of these? All for me? Then I remembered that you get what you pay for.
After the sixth piecsh it shtarts to taste like nerf.