Once at my neighborhood ramen restaurant in Japan, I became a focus of fascination for the owner. She cooed predictably about my fine skills with chopsticks, but then continued to watch me silently .

"You eat your soup so quietly," she told me finally, shaking her head slowly as if with disbelief. Three and a half years in Japan, and I never could get comfortable with noisy slurping.

Last night, at my neighborhood Texas Chinese restaurant, the Chinese owner giggled at me from behind a stack of menus. My waiter, her son, came over to explain. "My mother says you eat your egg drop like a Japanese person," he told me. Oddly, I had even been using a spoon.

When I left, he yelled after me, "Konnichiwa!", and broke into a gasping fit of laughter.