Earlier this evening, just after I got home from work and was boiling water for a cup of tea, two of the Burmese boys next door showed up at my back door with food their mother made: rice noodles, salty fish soup, and a hardboiled egg. All gone quickly, like the two boys.
Very business-like little souls. Holding up the plastic containers of food, one said, “We have to take these back.” I found a bowl and a small pot to put things in, washed the plastic containers while my guests discreetly explored what was in the kitchen, handed the containers back, and zip! They were out the door, but not before they told me their names again. They sounded like Angway and Atayu.
A quick look around the Internet tells me there is a Burmese dish called mohinga: rice noodles and fish soup and garnishes, most often eaten for breakfast. On a really cold day, a hot dish of what I had would be great for breakfast.