Vegan Burg & The East

Off to Vegan Burg for lunch today. My very first visit! The friends offered to pick me up, but I declined. I could easily cab it. But time is totally on my side, so public transport it is. It's not unpleasant during off-peak hours. On the map, Vegan Burg looks really near the Eunos MRT station.

I can't even remember if I've ever gotten down at Eunos train station. It's so unfamiliar. When I got there, I cheated by calling up Google Maps and following it all the way to Vegan Burg, without using my brains. Heheheheheh. I kinda miscalculated the time required on the train and it seemed like I might be late. I couldn't afford to explore and had to decide straightaway which direction to walk towards! Technology affirmed the intuition!

I love that Royal Enfield Bullet 500 that is resident at Vegan Burg. What a beauty. Aside from a fairly productive lunch to discuss a couple of issues with old friends and new ones, the whole point of the outing was to drop in at the National Arts Council's (NAC) Goodman Arts Centre to put in submissions in hard copy for the SPH-NAC Golden Point Award. So very exciting! :) The new premises are in a quiet residential locale. Very nice drive through the estates. I shuddered at an entrance gate that has been really painted in gold. Patchy. Eeeeks.

Later in the afternoon, I was lured to Island Creamery. While the girlfriend had the super sweet teh tarik with Horlicks powder, I had a scoop of not-too-sweet pulot hitam ice-cream to round up a very good day. The girlfriend even bought me a tub to take home to the man who would be so jealous of our day out. Muahahahah.

Off To See Wrist Bling!

A little bit of Geneva came over to the National Museum in the form of an exhibition of the timepieces from Vacheron Constantin. We were a little surprised to find out that it's free admission to the gallery. How nice! We were prepared to pay an entrance fee! It isn't a tiny space or miserable range on display. It's quite a sizeable collection which made for an eye-pleasing blinged-up stroll. We turned up at the museum at 10.15am to beat the crowds. By the time we left at noon or so, many others were streaming in.

The exhibition walks you through the watchmaker's history and heritage, putting the different watches of the era in categories of precision movements and meshing art with technical perfection. Such an intricate art watchmaking is. I was quite fascinated with the videos detailing the work of these masters of their craft.

There're plenty of timepieces towards the finale of the exhibition which can only be termed as artworks. Not just for jewelry and precious stones encased within and on the exteriors, but of enamel art so exquisite that it's breathtaking. I appreciate the pocket watches most. Those are beautiful in their stark simplicity.

Lunches At Little India

Nothing beats being decked out in dri-fit clothes to wander around town. I don't like dressing up and whenever possible, I'm in casuals and flip flops. I'm practically dressed like this nowadays. My feet is probably grateful for not suffocating it in heels!

Nothing beats heading to Little India for casual lunches on week days. This area is ridiculously impassable and impenetrable to us on weekends. We just don't know how to deal with the crowds. Driving through the narrow streets is a harrowing experience. But on a week day, all that changes. I love going to Little India when there're not too many people thronging the area.

Alot of the friends and my food preferences lean towards Indian food. It's what we eat at one another's dining tables. Took another jaunt to Little India because the girlfriend wanted to buy me lunch! To my usual Raj, it was. No curries or rice today. Just a tomato thosai did fine.

It was a damn hot day. Many places in Singapore are walkable, if one is in the right clothes and willing to brave the humidity. I was in the mood for a work-out. So I walked from Little India all the way to my next destination at Park Mall. :) A slow 30-min stroll under the scorching tropical afternoon sun. It felt really good to feel the perspiration drip from the brow and have the clothes soaked through.

Oddly, I haven't stepped into the newly refurbished Mustafa Centre yet. Heh.

House Of Incest At Post-Museum

So we know Post-Museum is moving out of its current premises on Rowell Road. Glad to know it'll continue in one form or another. For tonight, we popped in for a peek at the artwork curated and presented by Grapheme Zine Lab. These pieces are so totally on sale, and on display in a week-long exhibition titled "House of Incest" - An Ob/Scene Surrealist Cross Disciplinary Art Rave. Along with the exhibition, they're pushing ahead with fund raising for the museum as well. There're fringe events going on- private film screenings, poetry-reading and music performances.

Revolving around Anaïs Nin's surrealistic portrayal of her subconscious, 'House of Incest', the artworks are the respective artists' interpretation of the author's bohemian erotica. I like Anaïs Nin's writings, especially her insights that possess a strength of character that many believe to border on feminist leanings. When I first read the author and the genre in my tweens, the writing didn't appeal. But I fell in love with her ideas. Mills & Boon, you don't stand a shit of chance against her. The friends and I used to debate intensely on the masculine and the feminine versus gender stereotypes. Her study and criticism of one of the most controversial authors of the time in a book of 'D. H. Lawrence: An Unprofessional Study' provided us with so many discussion points over long afternoons outside of our literature texts. Do note that I'm not particularly fond of the writings of D.H. Lawrence. In a rather different focus, Anaïs Nin's erotica doesn't diminish her worth, in fact, it seems to enhance it.

It was a tight squeeze tonight at Post-Museum. HOT AND STUFFY inside the space! But I refused to leave before having a good linger in front of each artwork. Peering above shoulders and squeezing past elbows, there was some substantial time spent in trying to grab photos. Alot of it was spent tip-toeing. Comes with the slight inconvenience of being vertically challenged. However, I couldn't stare as long as I would have liked, and could only depend on the photos taken to continue chewing on the thoughts and concepts for each piece. After grabbing photos, we hastened our steps next door for cold cold cold beers.

Interlude At Bukit Brown Cemetery

(Photos, care of D)

The first thing that strikes you is the serenity of Bukit Brown Cemetery. Opened in 1922 and closed in 1973, many buried there are Chinese pioneers of Singapore, and this is one of the last lush areas of verdant green we'll see in the country. Those old trees tower above us, majestic and stately. When this oasis is gone, our memories of this spot will remain.

You know how much I love wandering through cemeteries. The girlfriend is just as enamored with cemeteries and graveyards. So on a day when the weather cooperated by being cloudy and overcast, we hopped over in a heartbeat. The best part, there were no other visitors but us. YAYYYY!

I've visited a long time ago as a young imp, but highlights of the trip had been forgotten. Probably two decades later, meandering through the paths feel, different. Honestly, I've never felt a sense of history to the graves nor the place. It's historical, yes, a resting place to the ancestors of our founding fathers, and of the people who built this country from soil and toil. But that is all, I don't feel anything more. The country moves on, we look forward and think little of the past. We've sprung forth as a country of immigrants, and going by our current policies, we'll always be a country of immigrants. If you ask me how much I care, I'll tell you, it's damn little. If this place has to be gazetted, it has to be done. I've no illusions about it. We've no land and we (not me) want to hit a population of 7 million soon. This country is near overflowing with imminent housing issues; something's gotta give. But I hope that a portion of it could be kept to preserve what little memory we have of old Singapore.

The graves are tranquil in the undergrowth. Many are clearly abandoned, but some have been lovingly cleared and tended to. Many fresh oranges have been left at these graves, and incense and paper offerings burnt for them. Even the graves have a sort of fashion. The older graves don't carry faded photos and the later-era ones do. Even the design and the 'guards' of the graves follow the fashion of the day. It's fascinating especially when our assumptions correlate with the year of death in the similar time period.

The girlfriend takes an avid interest in birds. She can spot them way faster than I ever could, and tell me the species. Win. But the birds weren't keen to be photographed today. We could hear them loud and clear, but the physical forms eluded us.

We leisurely strolled around for the hour. While you could stay on the even path, we chose to brave the mozzies to trudge up and down the overgrown trails to peer at photos and wordings on the headstones. The API has thoughtfully set up directional tapes and placards with tiny markers to indicate whose grave might be of notable interest to visitors.

We cleverly didn't bother with a walking map. Well, how lost could we be? This is an urban sprawl. We meandered through the paths to a big fork. Luckily GoogleMaps indicated that we were walking away from our intended exit. We saw passing cars (wondered where they went, because they all turned back very quickly!) and stopped one to ask if they had come from the Lorong Halwa entrance. They did. So we made a turn and within minutes, we were back at where we started.

The girlfriend had fun capturing the scampering monkeys through her lens. I'm super wary of monkeys and inched closer to the car. Ugh. Monkeys simply spell trouble! In spite of the almost cool weather, the humidity was sapping. After wiping down, I was quite happy to plonk in the car with the air-conditioning turned on.

(Do also hop by to read notabilia's and Flora's thoughts on this cemetery, and Liz McKenzie's 'elegy'.)

To Catch A Dream

Now that I've got huge spaces of time opening up, it's amazing how many books I can plough through in a week even if it's packed with activities. If I have pockets of empty slots in the calendar, they're blocked to spend time reading either at home, or at the friends'.

The friends are just as voracious readers. It's rather companionable to spend 2 hours in silence, absorbed in our respective books. With a singleminded focus, completing 5 novels a week can be quite easily done nowadays.

I could talk about so many books and their content, but it would never be as well written as olduvai's posts. On a random day armed with a pitcher of freshly made iced lemon tea, I picked out Alex Marsh's 'Sex & Bowls & Rock & Roll'- How I Swapped My Rock Dreams for Village Greens. Well, not that I'm that interested in lawn bowling. But that could be replaced by any other mundane activity. Often, it's about the metaphors.

While it's quite a funny little book, it isn't a happy story, at least not to me. At the end of it, I pity the protagonist. Yes, it's one thing to be defeated by reality, but it's quite another to make an attempt to balance it. I choose to view him as surrendering to his life's demands. This is something I understand, but find it hard to accept. And in that acceptance, we trade some of our individuality for the struggling position to live in this society.

I laughed my head off at this paragraph. Oh so true, don't we know this all too well? We know stereotypes like that, oh for sure.

"That is the thing with people in pubs. You can talk to them for years and years and still know next to nothing about them. Whereas if you find somebody in a pub that is keen to reveal their life story within the space of three pints, then your best bet is to set yourself on fire."

You might not be a rock star, but you could still make music, and remain true to that ideal. And somehow, chase the passion in fleeting doses, because we have to live. As children, we had dreams. How many have we fulfilled? How many have we passed on because we don't have the passion anymore, or we choose to give it up for something else? How do you live with yourself, when at the end of the day, you die with so many regrets and unfulfilled dreams?

"So that is that. // Never go back. Never try to recapture. // I have my bowls, I have my important househusbanding role. Why did I ever think I could make it more? The music boat has passed- I have missed it. It is time to stop pretending. Really time, this time."

Too Much Of A Good Thing

After a hot morning of pilates and nerf gun wars, the rains came in time for us to cool down. Then it was home for a shower. There was a lunch organized with the other friends, but I didn't bother to ask about the venue. All I had to do was to block off the slot on my calendar. When I bounded into the car and asked the man where we were headed, he said "Esplanade."

It was only when we got there then I asked which restaurant it would be. I instantly turned nauseous when he said, "No Signboard!" Friends wanted to have giant crabs for lunch. ARRRRRRGGGGH! It wasn't funny to see the restaurant's signature white pepper crabs land on the lunch table. There were 4 crabs on 4 separate plates. I swore the stomach lurched at the instant that crab claw waved at me.

The friends polished off the crabs with obvious relish, lots of finger licking, oohs and ahhhs. Anyway, I usually don't take much crab with them, so it wasn't difficult to solely concentrate on the steamed coral trout and vegetables. I had no inclination to eat anything else. I even passed on the lobster noodles.

The sun came back blazing in the afternoon. Couldn't swim because this wasn't the hour for the serious swimmers to interrupt the colorful floats and kiddy fun. Not a big deal. There's always a book to be read. I've shifted my routines to a more sensible weekday arrangement since I don't have to squeeze everything into the weekend. So I took an ultra long nap before drinks in the evening. It's been a while since I took naps! Can always do with extra sleep and no make-up on the face.

Imp 0 : Crab 1

Ivan and M. indulged in my current 'no white-linen tablecloth' inclination and went kopitiam at Happy Crab at Guillemard Village. I was horrified to learn that I would be eating crabs. CRABS! What the crap! I've never peeled a crab on my own! I don't particularly care for it. But if you know Ivan and M., they're extremely persuasive people. Ivan has eaten here and thought it decent. I'll abide by his superior tastebuds. He picked this venue because the waiting time would be much shorter than the other outlet. M. is the only real eater of crabs among us. She's game to try. She coolly decimates them the way she does to every fish head.

The King Crab (with plenty of roe) came really fast. Like within 10 minutes of me sitting down, but I was a tad late because I was busy killing zombies on PS3. :P I did not care for the roe. I don't mind roe being mixed with flesh for a change of taste, but not roe per se. When those two went on about hairy crabs and ginger tea, I had no idea what they were talking about because I've never eaten hairy crabs before. Hahahahahahah. Tonight, I gave most of my roe away. I stared at the crab, and the crab stared right back fiercely, with its gills and all. "Dead man's fingers," Ivan helpfully offered. "Don't eat it." I wasn't planning to! It didn't look at all edible. YUCKS.

I did try to eat the crab. Most of it, anyway. It had been chopped into fours for easy eating. The meat was rather sweet. Seasoned with salt and pepper, it made for quite a tasty lick when I couldn't get the meat out of the shell! BUT, my fingers were not poked, nail varnish remained intact, and no shell cut my skin. YAY!!! There were other foods of a fried parrot fish, and Thai salads of spicy mango and minced chicken. Fresh flavors to lend to the sweet and briny crustacean.

My dining companions went all out and brought 2 easy whites for the meal. BYO is permitted, but of course we got some water and tehpeng from the kopitiam in reciprocity. Do beer too if you can! There was just a 2-second moment of gua-gua when we thought no one brought a wine opener. But it wouldn't happen. These people are too prepared! I'd trust them with alot of things. Simply, because. :) The wines remained chilled throughout the meal. Woots. Ivan even brought wine glasses! Very very nice.

Then, there was dessert. I was thoroughly tickled by the promised ONE macaron that M. brought, mainly for Ivan. Wahahahahah! It fit that tupperware box perfectly! She had brought a large macaron on purpose so that I could have my ONE bite, and Ivan could finish the rest! I had two bites, actually. Rose shell and lychee buttercream. Note, I don't like sweets at all, but I'll taste, depending on who made it. I do know my macarons even if you think I don't. I avoid the consistency of Ladurée because I don't like its melty soft mush. I prefer the crunchier texture of Pierre Hermé. Which is exactly the texture that M. is going for in her baked goods. She brought a rose gateau for us to try too!

I attempted to kill everyone with an overload of calories in the form of 4 slices of cakes from Bonheur Patisserie. The fairly alright flavors were the green tea pound and the banana pound. The caramel opera was unimpressive. We were undecided over the carrot cake as each of us prefers a different version of it. And of course, the tiny issue is, we've all had the best carrot cakes that are baked in someone's kitchen, instead of a commercial bakery.

As an add-on to dessert, we crossed to Fatty Weng for a couple of dishes to snack on. Don't ask. There were succulent fried oysters, along with a plate of stir-fried yau mak choi (油麥菜- some sort of oriental Romaine lettuce?). We had to feed SOMEONE who doesn't eat teeny portions the way we do. Otherwise each time he comes out with us, he's gotta eat instant noodles when he gets home.

Happy Crab

Guillemard Village (this is the outlet at the old Badminton Hall)

102 Guillemard Road

Singapore 399719

The Choice Of A Necklace

(Photo, care of D)

For years now, each time I head out, something that I wear will always be made by a Singaporean. One item, at the very least. Often, it'll be either accessories or clothes. These are the easiest items to purchase from our crafters and designers. The finished work make good talking points over social events, especially when I travel on work trips. It's just a quirk of mine. It's difficult to buy bags because we've so few good quality local labels. And the one label I don't quite mind, seems to focus on ummm......stodgy designs in crocodile. I'm not a fan of crocodile and alligator leather, and in the same breath, ostrich, elephant, lizard, stingray or eel. I can live with python, but I prefer not to own any. Cows will do fine for the now, thankew.

Clothes by Singapore designers are fun and plentiful! But I don't do the horrible gowns and shite like that. I don't do events which require gowns, period. I favor nondescript, minimalist cuts which can be boring to a fault. Often, people have mistaken my Singapore labels for the Italian brands, of which I take great pleasure in telling them the exact label my clothes hail from. I'll have you know that I'm very proud of Singaporean designers. Increasingly, most of my clothes are procured from Singapore labels. :)

On the exciting night of IEHAC's first-ever album launch, it was definitely a dress-down casual kinda thing. Pirates yo! Of course I was in all black, a dress by FrüFrü & Tigerlily. The only concession to color was the necklace made by dearest Belinda of Bellee Beadz. I love her creations, as much as I love her personality, warmth and gracious nature. With the barest of briefs....like "I want a necklace. Chunky, please.", she could read my mind and create something that totally meets my vision and beyond. However, I'd strongly recommend that you don't try this with her as a cheeky new customer or a demanding regular. NO.

It was the first time I wore it. Happy colors! An art-piece. I was kinda keeping it for a somewhat special occasion. I wasn't sure exactly what, but when I needed a necklace last night and fingered the vast array of choices quietly lying in the drawer, the vibe felt right for this one. I was literally drawn to it. So the stones went onto the neck and kept their reassuring weight throughout the party. I like. Very much. Thank you.

Album Launch :: A Universe Made Of Strings

I've heard snippets of the music. Of course we've heard Glaciers that has been floating around for a year. Mostly, I tried to ignore the samplers of the new pieces, turn off Lush 99.5, wanting to save the experience of the full sonic boom for the night of the album launch.

At least, I'm assured of a very tight 'In Each Hand A Cutlass'. No fumbling, not a sign of hesitance, and all confident melodic prog rock. It felt like a movie set, and when the band began, it was as if we're sitting through a movie- your own movie that you could conjure up in the head. Vast soundtracks where the interpretation is only limited by one's imagination.

Soundscapes lit the mind. There could be so many things to think about. Instead of epic dance steps, I kept thinking of zombies, and the killing sequences. You know, like how you don't need to talk when you're shooting, hacking and splattered with blood? You just need that music to feel like a justified killer. Soundtracks. They tend to make you feel invincible.

There was attention paid to the set. Barrels, bottles of rum, the flickering bulbs in the storm lamps, candlesticks, fake skulls, netting, and of course, a pirate ship to put people in the mood! Esplanade Recital Studio is one of the best venues around. Not just in terms of tech support, but in terms of acoustics and sound. It was the ideal venue for IEHAC's genre of music where you need to be blasted with each detail and complexity of all the layers of the pieces. We really wouldn't have minded standing though. It would be quite cool to bob along, lost in our minds for that hour. An Amaranthine Journey indeed.

It was wonderful to see the friends get together for the evening, in support of either the humans or the music. A sold-out gig does wonders for the band's morale. Already intending to give their best, the band went into a total state of exultation and played their hearts out last night. Until they had to sheepishly announce that there would be no encore because they had no more songs!

Yes, those bottles of Angostura rum on the set were real. :)

(Photos courtesy of Leonard Soosay)

An Odd Sort Of Lunch

2 ex-colleagues texted me to say they're leaving the organization too, within weeks of each other. It didn't really come as a surprise to me. I guess they're leaving for more or less the same reasons as I did. Back in January, many were gritting their teeth to wait for the bonus to be paid out in May before leaving an organization they no longer believe in, or feel committed to.

So we rounded up an eager table for lunch at Hua Ting for old times' sake. We worked great as a team together. Fond memories, almost. But outside of the office, I doubt we'll be in touch very much. Our lives are quite separate with no criss-crossing of any type of common interest or hobbies. We've a relationship of sorts; solid trust in this area built through years of working with one another. But it's not friendship.

Food was good, as usual. Ordered so much that we had to tapau a couple of dishes. Heh. Not that many small eaters on the table, but it was quite a number of dishes! Luckily, there were people who could just take the food home and not let it go to waste. Especially when we had half a crispy roast duck left. The crayfish mee sua was pretty good, except for the overdose of that Shaoxing wine. I quite dislike Chinese liquor in my food. Arrrrrgh.

Lunch conversation was unfortunately centred around recent going-ons at the previous work place, of which I wasn't interested in. Gossip can remain within that circle. I don't want to hear about it. Their business isn't mine. I've left. I don't care what goes on in there. I steered the conversation towards something more pleasant, to chat about these individuals' future plans, current happenings in their lives and vacation plans. These are things I want to know. These are the good things I want to remember from this lunch.

Till we meet again.

Coffee With Sinlady

It's been a while, certainly. It's most pleasurable sitting down for coffee with Sinlady for an overdue chat. Between her travelling and mine, we've never managed to sort out a proper date. She made time to meet and I'm glad we've finally managed to swing it.

Sinlady has known me for years. My gawwd, has it been 10 years, really?!!! She's probably seen the bad sides of me more than the good. It's amazing how she kept a touch of objectivity throughout. I've always been grateful for her quiet support during a trying period in my life. Her emails and text messages made me feel less alone. She extended a surprisingly warm hand when I needed it most, and have cheered me on since.

Then we both started blogging and that really made it so much easier for me to be completely convinced that she doesn't belong to the camp of malicious and gossip-y people. In fact, through the years, I've somehow gotten to know her a little better through her writing since those times we sat down to drinks and songs together. Those years didn't do any justice to getting acquainted with humans properly. She's lovely; I had told myself then, that she's one of those decent people.

Full of wit and humor, she's never lost that refreshing honesty that I appreciate. She looks beautiful as always and gracious. I've got a bottle of sugee cookies personally done by her! I've popped one, and quite like it because it's got the right balance of sugar so that it's not overly sweet!

The man thanks you profusely, Sinlady. Would you believe it, he has finished half a bottle already.

Horror, Illustrated

The girlfriend hosted lunch and tea at home for us. Very nice to have these girls in town for an afternoon chat. We zipped straight to the host's bookshelves and rudely rummaged through her current titles.

Conversation somehow centred on graphic novels and an intense discussion of Neil Gaiman's works past and current. We traded tales of how we, separately, caught Amanda Palmer's gigs around the world.

I'm no expert on graphic novels. The last time I called the boys' heroes belonging to the monopoly of 'Mar-Velle', they had collective apoplexy. "Mar-VEL! Marrrrr....verrrrrrr!" Whatever. Kekekekekeke. But I do know my favorites. Like Fables. You can't deny the obvious similarities between Sandman, Watchmen and The Dark Knight Returns.

We spent the next 2 hours in near silence, eagerly flipping through old favorites and passing them around, Wolves In The Walls, Blueberry Girl, Crazy Hair, Odd and the Frost Giants, Instructions, The Dangerous Alphabet, Interworld, The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish and The Facts in the Case of the Departure of Miss Finch. Our iPads and Kindles were gleefully abandoned on the table, snug inside their jackets. When it comes down to it, nothing, absolutely nothing beats the quaint act of flipping a real, physical page.

The iPod dutifully churned out Bon Iver, Natural Milk Hotel, Gomez, The National, Ben Folds, Amanda Palmer, Lunarin, In Each Hand A Cutlass, The Observatory, Turin Brakes, Noughts & Exes, Two Door Cinema Club, Belle & Sebastian, Deathcab for Cutie, Iron and Wine, Brett Dennen.....the sorts. A perfect afternoon.

Ahhh....good times. Fairytales with a twist. Childhood friends from different schools, we've always read together as children, then teenagers, devouring horror, fantasy, thrillers and literature classics by the dozens; sharing books, homework, essay points, insights and library cards. :) Oddly, our music tastes coincide and from an era of sharing mix-tapes, we now share ummm....stuff on soundcloud and from our iTunes library. Now that we've grown, it's so comforting to still do these sessions with the girls regularly. Can't wait for the next session! We're doing Gris Grimly and Susan Pearson.

Cufflinks!

The man's got some swanky new shirts tailored. He sent me out with instructions to get him a couple of fun cufflinks. "Not those from your shite designer labels, and not those fancy corporate ones. FUN, okay? It doesn't have to cost a bomb as I'd probably lose them. But it has to be fun. A bad-ass theme preferably."

So I trotted off to a mall where the men's section stocks all sorts of cufflinks. Fancy, dowdy, diamond-y, silver, gold-plated, fun, plastic, steel...everything! I stared at a few shelves with wares on display. I took a couple of photos according to the theme that the man had set, and sent it over to him for his selection. He made his decisions pretty quickly. He picked lots of stuff that I knew he'd identify with and would have no issues with literally wearing his heart on his sleeve. But he rejected the teddy bears. Bleah.

Shopping on a weekday is almost pleasurable. The aisles are empty, and the sales people seem that bit friendlier. No queue at the cashiers' and I didn't feel too harassed. 15 minutes later, with my mission accomplished, I was out of the mall and on my merry way to lunch. Nice.

Food For Adults & Children

So glad everyone could make it to the evening because one of the ladies took wonderful initiative to arrange it weeks ago!! Wieeeeee! We never make it to lunch on the week days because of our crazy schedules. To think many aspects of our work lives cross paths rather frequently (then). Each time we arrange something, it's always gotta be dinners or weekend brunches. :) A random thought- these ladies would be fun to work with in a team. A pity we never had the chance to. It'd have been quite a scream, I'm sure. They're superbly sane, perceptive, efficient, optimistic and determined. These girls don't whine. Period. They just go resolve the issues. They are in the know and they know how to run things well.

The ones with the little tots take most efforts to juggle their schedules. Thrilled that we could make the 7pm timing for dinner this round. If this was a usual work day, we wouldn't be able to turn up till 8pm at least. WOOTS! I even had time to zip by the yoghurt stall to share a mouthful with a little girl. I like talking to the little boy. He has unassailable logic that stands up to all reasoning and questioning, which leaves me very impressed. But you should have seen his mom roll her eyes. Kekekekekekek.

Zhou's Kitchen :: Plenty of green vegetables :: Tasty beehoon in fish stock :: Temporary play area :: Sharing of toy cars and giggles :: Sports-shop :: Cafe :: Decaf coffee :: Oatmeal and raisins biscuits and a big slice of yuzu sponge cake ::

Oysters For Lunch!

The man's on leave for the day and after running errands, we headed out for lunch with the friends. With no reservations, we decided to try our luck at Luke's Oyster Bar & Chop House. The place was quite packed still, but had space for us since it was already 2pm.

With casual dining as emphasis and background from Wine Garage and Spruce, this is Chef Travis Masiero's new joint. I didn't mind the easy bites at Wine Garage then, but I had an issue with the food at Spruce, which I found weird and a mish-mash of flavors that didn't quite match my tastebuds. Going through the menu at this new joint, it's obvious that this is quite different and more focused in terms of ingredients and flavors. The menu clearly reflects Chef Masiero's personal style.

Very fresh Boston oysters. Dozens. Our lunch is a full blown affair in sampling the menu. The clam chowder blew us away. It was quite delicious. Those clams in there were big and juicy. YUMMZZZ. I'm not too fond of the creamed spinach with crispy egg and fried garlic because I found it...ummm....too creamy. Hehehehehe. But the others loved it. When I saw the menu, 2 items caught my eye- the hash brown, which is done rosti-style and the New England lobster roll. Hash brown rocked. Lobster roll was decent, but not impressive, but will do, simply because we don't have many places in Singapore that do them. A little pricey at S$45, but mine contained quite a generous blob of lobster.

We're coming back here to try its classic burger, and its vegan burger with brown rice. Plenty of sides that look appetizing. Woohoooo. I want to taste the lobster mac and cheese, and the tomato salad. Oh, if you want meats, there're cuts of beef, veal and pork. Take your pick. There's also grilled seafood of the day. A fair bit of choices for the friends and I with all the different dietary preferences.

Walking into Luke's felt like I'm strolling into an eatery in NYC or Sydney or Melbourne or London. It's not a fancy sort of place and doesn't pretend to be one by having white linen tablecloth. :P But it's certainly got its standards. Very competent, confident and friendly service. The restaurant feels fresh and exciting, not just because it's the new kid on the block on a neverending slate of new offerings, but because it's managed to create its own unique identity through its menu. For some reason, I like this place in the daytime rather than the evenings. I like the natural light streaming in through the windows and quaint blue doors.

A Universe Made Of Strings

What: Album launch "A Universe Made of Strings"

When: Friday 24 June 2011, 9.30pm

Where: Esplanade Recital Studio

How much: S$28 per ticket at all SISTIC outlets

[Click here for a 5-min raw video.]

A Quiet Sort Of Afternoon

It's wonderful when schedules match. I was lucky to have the company of a lovely girlfriend to while the day away by doing nothing in particular. These days are still a novelty for me. For her, such days are few and precious to come by.

Girlfriend's home :: Steamed egg with a tinge of chilli padi and dark soy sauce :: A little girl's room :: Chilling out with plushies :: Forty Hands :: Beer, coffee and tau sar pau :: Books Actually :: Bought plenty of books :: Tiong Bahru Estate :: Wandering around on a cloudy day :: Eu Tong Sen Street :: Foot reflexology session :: OUCH

Chris Cope - "World Without You"

So pop. But quite catchy.

Nice one, dude.

Using The Scary Taba Ng Talangka

The man has been flooded at work and everything else, so he hasn't been cooking very much this year. There's been too much of a social whirl for him. This weekend, he was a little less stressed. There's quite a load of exciting things happening for him these 2 weeks, so he's been quite happy. Tonight, he was somehow in a mood to prep a light dinner.

The man braved the Sunday crowd at Lucky Plaza to zip into one of the grocery stores to buy a jar of crab fat, otherwise known as taba ng talangka. I don't know if it's purely defined as 'fats', but it's a paste made from small shore crabs, which would be alot of crushed roe and crustaceans. There're also vinegar, corn oil, garlic and some food coloring in the paste. MSG too, I suspect. We've been told to avoid the ones that are in bright orange and go for the jars with darker hues.

With the maid helping out, the man was very quick in the kitchen. Within an hour, dinner was served. My gawwd. The linguine of crabmeat and scallops that came out of the man's pan would be filled with alot of cholesterol from the taba ng talangka. Admittedly, it was tasty. I dread to think how unhealthy this meal was. Never mind. Eat first, worry later. I tasted something else that was really familiar, but I couldn't place it. "Vodka. Grey Goose." The man smugly announced. Okaaay, that was ALOT of vodka used! I quite like the dosage in this crab meat pasta. Good balance.

Accompanying the pasta was a huge mountain of pan-fried zucchini and peppers in an anchovy mix. Crunchy delicious. I happily chomped up lots of vegetables. No, he didn't put any taba ng talangka into the vegetables. Whew!

I gladly washed up the dishes, pots and pans; scrubbed the stove, walls and table, then left the maid to mop the kitchen floor. I've missed the man's cooking loads! I've never really cooked in my life and I don't ever intend to cook or bake. Either, doesn't appeal at all. I don't understand it and I don't want to do it. I honestly prefer washing up after meals. Very therapeutic. Just as well the man has a serious passion for all things culinary. Ha.

Saturday in Pink

Saturday morning was spent in ill-concealed anger. I was trying not to tear all my hair out poring through paperwork. I chomped down lunch while listening to the old folks' chatter. The mind wandered and looked forward to the other activities for the next half of the day.

Hong Lim Park :: Pink Dot :: Esplanade Outdoor Theatre :: TOI :: Barossa :: Pizza :: The Substation :: Envy :: Timbre :: Beer :: Brussels Sprouts :: Mussels and fries :: Friends' cosy flat :: Awesome single malts ::

I Broke The Box

(Photo reproduced with permission from Corsage.)

You see, when a little girl does it, it's SO CUTE. She could even pull a rather large poofy Tigger in there for company.

But when much bigger imp attempted the same trick in the same box the little girl used, the plushies stared at the antics with ill-concealed sniggers.

Of course, the box wasn't made the hold the size of my butt. When a side of the box gave way, the girlfriend kindly offered to staple it back before we took this photo. Then hysterical laughter filled the room. Bah.

Home For Dinner

The man's parents were travelling these 2 months as well, and I didn't manage to see them before I left. Although the man wasn't bothered about my destination, I wasn't going to tell his parents that I was going till I was gone. Hehheeheh. Anyway, between making the decision and flying off, it was just a week. Hah. Plus there were many factors heavily swung towards the possibility of the trip not happening. I had to wait for the final confirmation the night before the flight to be sure that we were going.

Home for dinner, we went casual at the convenient Pontini where they didn't mind us turning up at 9.45pm. I didn't get nagged at for sneaking off! Muahahahahah. The man is very used to my 'lightning' trips. By now, the parents are fairly well-trained too! The chef was strangely thrilled to see us and promised us a yummilicious meal. I was quite amused by his enthusiasm.

The starters were fine. But I refused to take too much. Saving my tummy for the mains. I wasn't too pleased with the grouper fillet. The polenta was alright. But the fillet was topped with a ridiculously huge piece of foie gras. It might just be bigger than the fish! Seriously! I don't take foie gras and having it perched atop the fillet meant that the juices would seep into the fish. Big no-no. Grrrrrrrrrr.

We were here for the mussels and the lobster pasta done in 2 styles- with tomato sauce and aglio olio. It came on 2 huge plates. Tantalizing to the max! It tasted even better than it looked. I ate lots, carbs not withstanding. I was hungry! It was very satisfying first meal after 2 weeks in Tokyo where I avoided all sorts of commercial western food.

Look Before You Eat!

The man shrieked and swiveled the chair around. "Why did you leave this on the desk?! You almost poisoned me! I thought this is mochi!" I stared at the thing he was wildly waving around and went into uncontrollable laughter.

I was like, dude! This is far from anything resembling an edible mochi. And the words on the packaging are in French and English! See, it reads "Soap with Verbena Leaves." The man is very funny lah. He simply assumed the color green equals mochi and picked it up to tear apart. At least he had paused to wonder why this one is so hard instead of being nice squishy soft.

Now, in the photo below, this is the real daifuku mochi in a green tea flavor. It can only last 1 day after my return because these are the fresh sort. I don't fancy them, but the man does. So besides the dorayaki I brought back, there's another box of daifuku mochi sitting in the fridge for him. I'm not trying to poison him! Kekekekekeek.

You've Been A Great Host, Tokyo!

Since we were not interested in doing any sort of cooking, not even to spend a day at Le Cordon Bleu, the friends decided that they would cook at home.

Nothing beats going to the supermarket to grab ingredients so that the friends could do fresh mentaiko pasta by way of farewell. Ooh-la-la.

Bye Tokyo, you've been rather educational.

Meiji Shrine

I like the tranquility of this place.

It must be amazing to sit here for 2 hours or so to sketch and paint.

Porter

There is no way that we can leave Tokyo without a Porter bag in hand for each of us. It's PORTER! I'm interested in specific labels, and this is one of them. I've got a couple of tops and bottoms from Black. Brainless purchases that make up my basic wardrobe. Nothing exciting. I didn't see anything I really love. My grouchy disposition dissipated when I knew we were headed to Porter and was wide awake making my selections in the boutique. WOOOTS.

We lunged into the Porter boutique at the Galleria at Roppongi Minato, or Tokyo Mid-town, and traumatized the sales people with our incessant questions. The boutique had such a wide range available! A friend even stated she wanted a diaper bag from there. It was very squishable, thankfully. Laptop bags, fabric bags and even leather bags. I like their sturdy no nonsense designs.

It took a bit of time to decide which 2 bags I wanted. Hehehhee. I could ask the friends to ship me bags anytime, or use a concierge service, but I'm right here. Now. It's pleasurable to touch and feel the bags, hold them against me and make a decision. Porter bags need to be carried with an attitude and the right clothes. I need to know I can carry them off without looking like a stupid tourist or wannabe! It's got a bit of a grungy thing going.

The friends grabbed lots of purchases too. Fruitful. Pleased as punch, we dropped off the huge paper bags at the hotel and put our legs for a bit before heading out to a most yummy dinner.

To Two Museums

I've had enough of walk-around shopping. I bloody dislike it. Thank goodness the bff isn't swayed by sales. Each time we hear the word 'sale' in any country, we avoid said venues like plague. Still, I've to trudge after her like a good little girl when she shops. I'll find things to amuse myself with.

It was a trade-off. The bff dragged me to the shops for a full day (a friggin' torture), and she would have to trot along with me to the pilates studio and the museums. I told her she could stay in to surf and resolve her internet addiction issues while I went out to gallivant. But she wanted to move the limbs and soak up the art. OKAY! She's possibly even a better navigator than I. Threw her in Gobi Desert in a topo challenge and she beat me flat by 3 full hours.

After a morning session at the studio with the most polite of instructors who kept bowing and bowing till we were rather bemused, we hopped onto the subway to meet the friends for lunch and then stroll around. It was a pleasure to meander through the historic artifacts at Tokyo National Museum and then head to a contemporary interpretation at the Mori Art Museum. However, the opening hours for both museums have been altered since March 2011. I've no idea if it's got anything to do with saving electricity, but on many days, the exhibitions close at 5pm.

The Tokyo National Museum is like a shrine, sorta. It's got that same vibe of calm and zen. I felt like I had to be quiet as a mouse and move really slowly. There was hushed appreciation of the Japanese's religion in "Buddha - The Story in Manga and Art" by renowned manga artist Tezuka Osamu. I generally don't quite get anime or manga. But sometimes I do, like 'Slam Dunk', although I never understood basketball.

We moved on to Roppongi Hills to the Mori Art Museum. We stared really hard at the projects that won the Marcel Duchamp Prize titled "French Window". I lingered over Saâdane Afif's "The Skull". Very fascinating in the use of reflection and space. There was another untitled exhibit by Mathieu Mercier that seemed to be an acrylic standalone French window, overlooking the Tokyo city scape. Quite stark in its simplicity. As we moved through the spaces, the bff remarked, "See, contemporary art is reflective and depressing." Well, when is it not?

It was a cloudy afternoon and we couldn't see very much of the city scape from Mori Tower's observatory. It was nice to sit still for a bit and stare out of the windows. The bff and I glanced at each other and away again. We didn't have to ask what the other's thoughts were. We knew. We were wondering "What next" for our next stage in lives. We wouldn't have an answer now. Maybe in another couple of months. Are we lost? Nope. We live by the motto 'carpe diem' and even at this age, we daresay we've very little regrets in life. Assuming we live to a healthy 75, we're almost midway through.

After dinner, on a whim, we drove out to Tokyo Tower. It's probably going to be quite redundant in the later part of the year when the city moves to digital broadcasts. The 634m-tall Tokyo Sky Tree will take its place in television broadcast history. We got there at 9.55pm, grabbed our photos, stared upwards for a bit and the 176 floodlights went off at 10pm. Shrouded in darkness, the 333m tower then looked exactly like the unemotional industrial steel structure it is, reminding us that this is a city in the middle of a robust electricity/energy-saving effort.

Do we like Tokyo enough? Half and half. It's good to experience Tokyo with the bff again. Cycle of life, I call it. The bff and I, we've done much together and went through plenty of chapters in life side by side. She's not your sweetie pie; she's a tough chick. I give her unquestioning loyalty, and she lends me unstinting support. I've told the man to never make me choose between him or the bff. It'll always be the bff. She (and a bunch of dive buddies) saved me from the brink of death. He hasn't. Not that I'm anxious to prove it. To that end, he's been VERY NICE to my bff. Heeeeeeee. 27 years and counting, babe. Salut.

Coffeeshop

We randomly strolled into an old-school Japanese coffeeshop for coffee and a nibble. I was tired and needed a sugar boost. If you don't speak Japanese or read it, just point to whatever photos on the wall or on the menu, and use body language. The servers are usually the owners too and are generally very nice people. We got by with our meagre Japanese.

There was an apple pastry...something. There was a thin slice of cheesecake too. Both came on teeny tiny plates. They were perfect. Almost bite-sized. I literally wanted one bite. Both were strangely not sweet. The bff didn't want to finish them. Muahahahahah. But I couldn't finish them either. So we left them aside and lingered over the coffee which tasted like strong tea instead.

We were in no hurry to go anywhere. It was kinda nice to space out for a bit in the middle of the day and watch the going-ons in the bustling neighborhood. The bff gave me the once-over. "The job really gave you an aversion to gold taps, silver service and restaurants with white linen tablecloth huh?"

I tore away from my intense eavesdropping at the conversation between 2 old ladies. We've been eating well this trip, but on wooden tops and minimal items of decor. Heh. "Yes. For a while, at least. It has made me more anti-social, if anything. There's beauty in simplicity and the rougher side of the table. I just need a tap that's made of bloody stainless steel."

Flowers In Bloom

Aside from the plate of yummy fruits, I was quite taken by the huge bouquet of fresh flowers placed in the hotel room as part of the welcome hospitalities. A nice gesture.

Out in the streets, we wandered by little shops filled with all sorts of colorful flowers and the most exquisite arrangements and hand bouquets. Tokyo has many beautiful florists.

I can't even term them as 'flower shops' because, again, the packaging and presentation of all these bouquets are nothing short of gorgeous.

The Sushi (寿司)

A couple of years back, there was a decadent period where we'd go to Japan once a month for a long weekend to her cities for the specific purpose of indulging in gastronomic feasts on sushi and sashimi. We sampled the breadth and depth of Japanese cuisine, everything that's been sustainably sourced or otherwise. The latter comprised of a huge chunk of education and subsequent guilt. Years later, on this trip, I've completed my list of restaurants to check out. But I didn't step through their doors without alot of inner struggle with my bohemian hippie alter.

My favorite is still the tiny, plain and unassuming Sushi Mizutani. It's probably my favorite Japanese restaurant in the whole wide world. Sushi Saito comes a close second. Securing the reservations at these 2 places on the dates I wanted was difficult and it took a bit of a compromise, some very kind arrangements, goodwill and switch-around of dates to make it happen. These reservations were more precious than pink diamonds, considering the average lead-time is 3 months. And it happened, magically. I'm still in a bit of a sushi delirium.

I'm still okay with Sushi Kanesaka, but not enamored with its Shinji in Singapore. A lunch at Sushi Kanesaka confirmed that I still prefer the Tokyo restaurant. I'm still undecided about Sushi Araki. That experience is really cool but I'm not sure where to categorize it in my head. We were taken to Sukiyabashi Jiro, where it was good, but honestly, unmemorable. It kinda pales in comparison with the others. At least it doesn't appeal to me. The differentiating factor, the fish. I'm quite in love with Sushi Saito's rice. But in a sublime stroke of the chef's knife, the cuts of fish at Mizutani came across as more delicate. In Tokyo, it's no longer about the freshness of the ingredients. That's a given. It's all about the skills and mastery of the chef over the meat. Oh, bring wads of cash. Most brilliant restaurants don't accept credit cards.

(And I don't have to dress up at these restaurants! I simply wore jeans! WOOOOTS.)

Since those hedonistic days, we've all gradually declined to have chutoro and otoro in our Japanese meals because we simply don't trust the sources of any Japanese restaurant anywhere. It's a paradox of sorts, almost hypocritical in many ways- we like sushi, but we don't trust the kitchens. The bff rejects tuna, period. She doesn't even like tuna chunks in a can. It's kinda weird to request for an omakase meal in Tokyo, then state our preferences for the choice of fish. Luckily there're poetic and tactful Japanese speakers in our midst who could point out that somehow, as a group, we don't eat fish with red hues. The true mark of a chef, as we've been shown, is how he respects the diners' preferences, making his recommendations, but never pushing. These sushi chefs, they've an aura of zen and impeccable decorum. And therein, lies the true irony of Japanese sushi and sashimi.

Soba (そば)

This is what I would term as an ultimate happy meal.

I like 'em kinda plain and cold. Either a zaru soba (笊蕎麦) or a hiyashi soba (冷やし蕎麦) will do fine.

But they must come with quail eggs. :) You know I slurp them up raw instead of stirring it into the noodles.

Tempura (天ぷら)

We were probably not very sober on this day, starting with beer at Asahi Beer Hall and Tower. I fail to see how the golden flame errected above the Beer Hall reflects the soul of the company- the burning Flamme d'Or or represents 'Asahi Super Dry'. All it shrieked out to me is how unmistakable Philippe Starck's ego has imprints all over it. Please resist all rude impulses to call it a piece of golden turd. Anyway, the flow of Asahi beer continued at lunch in the nearby restaurants.

Most places don't do a good batter to produce yummy tempura (天ぷら). Or they use a rather strange sort of oil to fry the batter which can taste quite off. I can tell the rather obvious differences in tempura if it's been dunked in vegetable oil, canola oil or sesame oil. It's not easy to find a restaurant that can do tempura well, not in Singapore and also not in Tokyo.

We enthusiastically checked out 2 touristy tempura restaurants in Asakusa- Aoi-Marushin (葵丸進) and Daikokuya (大黒家). They didn't look too bad. At least when we were there, hordes of locals were having lunch. Not so many tourists were present. Big premises, by Tokyo standards.

While the tempura restaurants also serve sushi, I think you could give it a miss. The sushi doesn't look good. The sizes are too big! There was sushi on our table and I tried a piece. It was of an inferior cut of fish atop tasteless rice and too thickly rolled. Not a proper piece of sushi. These sort of cuts of fish are suited to be eaten cooked, not raw. They did way better beneath a cheerful bright golden layer.

Giant prawns and fresh vegetables fried in light crisp batter that didn't ooze oil when served. Best of all, they didn't stink of stale oil. These have been properly done fresh in the morning and upon placing of our orders. I'm not an expert on tempura since I'm no huge fan. But I could discern the fresh oil and batter used in the food. The kitchen took care not to leave burnt bits in the oil because that would be very obvious to taste. The kitchen's got pride in serving their customers. However, between these 2 supposedly popular tempura restaurants in Tokyo, I don't eat enough to be able to tell the differences. Both seem rather good. We don't appreciate tempura enough to go to 7chome Kyoboshi to put it to test.

I cringed when the friends chomped up batter-covered aojiso (or shiso/perilla) leaves. I like the seeds in cookies well enough, but I haven't learnt to eat it raw. It reminds me of scary mint leaves, although logically, it doesn't taste anything like that. The okra is another scary vegetable too. Probably the texture that I never got used to. As a kid, I always ran away screaming from okra. Heeeeeee. I love the bell peppers, sweet potatoes, mushrooms, eggplants and the other vegetables fine.

Izakaya (いざかや)

An izakaya is an ideal group dining venue. We settled a number of meals at Teyandei at Nishi-Azabu, Ogikubo Ichibe at Ogikubo and Galali at Omotesando. They serve enough variety of food at a decent quality to satisfy all tastebuds. Many of us don't take the red meat and chicken, so it's pretty cool to have grilled seafood and vegetables.

However, the point of the friends dragging us there, was for the sake, or nihonshu. At each joint, the friends would insist on a full lesson to Japanese sake. I don't know anything about Japanese sake, but am forced to not have the brain shut down at each session! It would help if I could read more of the labels! At least understanding the complexity of sake is more intuitive than wine. The processes are fairly similar to whisky-making. I'll never get wine.

The bottles, oh the bottles. 5 big bottles at each meal at an izakaya, to be shared among between 6 - 8 people. ARRRRGH. Not that easily done! We noted that we would be tasting ginjo in all forms. First, genshu would be plonked on the table, followed by nigorizake, seishu, tobingakoi, and ending with a sweet-ish koshu. I'm definitely no expert to remember all these names. As I pen this post, I've to look at my photos and google to see what we skipped and those that went down the throat.

With copious amounts of sake in sight, I will ask for a bowl of rice with the meal to share with someone else. Without the carbs, it's impossible to line the stomach for all the drinking. Food alone is fine, but my stomach requires a tad of carbs to balance the effects of any possible hangover. I haven't had any. Heh. TOUCH WOOD!

Tonkatsu (トンカツ)

Then, there's tonkatsu. We were taken to Marugo at Akihabara. I looked at the menu and shuddered. Every line contained 'pork' in different cuts of hire, rosu, etc. I'm like, is there 'yasai-katsu' instead?! But I had forgotten to tell this bunch of friends about my dietary preferences and since the friends were being hospitable, it wasn't to be done to request to go somewhere else. In this way, the focus isn't exactly about the food, but more of the company, so I don't really care.

I understand this tonkatsu restaurant is immensely popular and there's always a queue to get in simply because it's a tiny tiny place. So pork lovers, you'll definitely like this eatery. The other friends who weren't doing the same thing as me, going 'oiishhiiiii!' at every other bite. Heh.

I palmed off as much meat as possible to the bff and other friends, and buried the rest under the rice. I really do not want to eat meat. Luckily they had some fun side dishes to nibble on, along with beautiful steamed white rice, and most importantly, beer. Beer at lunch rocks. I can always eat something else again at tea. Like onigiri. Heheheheh.

But after these meals, I gently put my foot down at future tonkatsu, yakitori and yakiniku places. These eateries specialize in their respective cooking methods and use of ingredients and rarely offer anything else aside from the touted meats on the menu. It's not exactly friendly for a number of us non-meat eaters.

Ramen (ラーメン)

I would have liked ramen alot better if it doesn't come with the oily pork soup and chashu. The tastebuds don't appreciate it at all. But it's impossible to reject the friends' kind offer in hosting us to dinner, and again, it wasn't polite to say no to their suggestions. We went to a branch of Kouryu in the Komazawa area which serves up Hakata-style tonkotsu ramen.

I do like the broth in the ramen, not to drink it, but to submerge things that I don't want to eat within the murky depths. Kouryu allows customization to your bowl of ramen, including whether you want oil on top of the soup. I opted for ZERO oil. But it was still oily. It must be the fault of the pork bones. What I did, was to have a shitload of spring onions and garlic slices. By golly, it did come with a huge portion of both. Some of the friends didn't want that much spring onions in their regular portions, and scooped them over to me. Kekekkekeke. Wooots. A little bit of noodles and tons of spring onions made for a deliciously crunchy meal.

I liked how customers pay at the machines first and then sit down for their meals. You'll have to be able to read Japanese, or do alot of guessing at the photos and extra ingredients to be added to your chosen bowl. No frills, minimal fuss. It's fairly efficient and a meal will take no more than 15 minutes. Whether it's satisfying, depends on how much you like the pork broth. Quite perfect if the outing doesn't focus on the food per se. For most people, stepping into a ramen shop is simply to fill the stomach.

Onigiri!!!

I love onigiri. These are carbs which I tend to stay away from. But I can't reject pilaf and Japanese rice. I LOVE onigiri. Truly. And this is onigiri-land. So many different kinds! I don't need the freshly made ones or anything exquisite. Just those found in the supermarkets or convenience stores are good enough to satiate a craving. Each time we walk into a convenience store, the friends will find me in front of the shelves of onigiri, drooling.

Since we're walking quite a fair bit in the city, sometimes we buy it as a snack in between destinations for a boost of energy. The size of one is just about right for a light lunch on-the-go. They've got all sorts of filling in there. Luckily we can understand what the labels say. We do know how to read Japanese, and by that, I don't mean cheating by reading the kanji. We haven't entirely forgotten what went on in the long-ago Japanese lessons. The bff's Japanese, is way more fluent than mine though. She makes frequent trips to Japan and is familiar with the city, enough to stop me from doing the rude thing of eating and walking at the same time.

So. I've been eating an onigiri a day. Absolutely awesome. Hehehhheehhe.

Whisky

A trip to Tokyo isn't complete without checking out its whisky bars. I'm not interested in the chic and hip clubs of the moment or fancy cocktails. I just want my alcohol from grotty whisky bars or those with old world charm. Or perhaps, I'm not in a mood to dress up and would like to just sprawl at places that won't raise an eyebrow if we're in jeans.

I wasn't looking to try Japanese whisky per se. They often don't contain peat and aren't layered enough for my palate. I prefer the deep smoky notes or briny taste of the Scottish drams. So for the whisky bars I'm interested in, I'd like to make sure they also have a selection of non-Japanese malts. However, it is ironic as Suntory now owns Bowmore Distillery, Auchentoshan and Glen Garioch; Nikka has interests in Ben Nevis, and Takara Shuzo owns the majority share of Tomatin Distillery.

Not surprisingly, the friends went along with the focus on whisky bars. Quite enthusiastically, too. We picked 3 bars to hang out at in the city. There're Cask at Ropponggi Minato-ku, Quercus at Ikebukuro and Bar Track at Ebisu. Polished wood, ambient lighting, plenty of choices for whisky. AWESOME. I made a note of the Japanese words for my few favorite whisky just so that I can identify it the next time. Not too difficult when they split the menu into Highlands, Islay, Speyside, etc. I could hazard a guess, but need the friends to help me translate.

While one can't smoke anywhere and anyhow along the streets of Tokyo except at the designated smoking areas, the whisky bars still permit smoking within. Likewise, MOS Burger. If MOS Burger takes the whole building, there'll be one smoking floor that is entirely filled with putrid smells. It takes alot of guts to sit there. Which will then mean, the rest of the non-smoking floors stink of cigarette smoke too. So out of the whisky bars and back in the rooms, we had to spritz plenty of Febreze (or its Japanese equivalent provided by the hotel) to get rid of those stale cig smells.

For A Cup Of Coffee

Tokyo's answer to Starbucks is in the form of the self-service Doutor and full-service Excelsior Cafe. Stepping into them is alright, but the coffee is just as bad as its American counterpart. Their sandwiches don't look appetizing at all.

It's almost like how we hopped into the maid cafes in the city and the friends warned us not to have any sort of expectations about the quality of food and drinks at the cafes. You're paying for a concept, not quality. I did some serious eye-rolling there. It's just so weird man. Saying "Mo-e, mo-e, kyun!" doesn't endear you to me and it isn't going to make your food or drinks taste any better.

Quick fixes are grabbed from Starbucks and Tully's. They're everywhere! Much better than crap coffee from random cafes or even from the hotel's machines. On mornings when I really want a good cup of caffeine, I make the trek to Cafe de l'Ambre at Ginza and Paul Bassett at Meguro-ku. Those, serve real coffee that hits a spot.

I'm in a metropolis, so I demand coffee which doesn't taste like muddy water. There must be good coffee found somewhere. As usual, the internetz and the friends are a great source of information. Trust me, it's worth the trek to these 2 cafes. However, bear in mind that I judge cafes based strictly on their cafe latte, cappuccino and flat whites. No sugar. I like my caffeine to arrive in a basic form. That rich creamy coffee with its beautiful beans wake you up with its aroma before the first sip. Fortifying. Their coffees are fabulous.

We've been really lucky with the weather. The rainstorms have held off and it's been rather sunny and warm throughout. The rains are scheduled to return over the weekend and next week. Currently, it's just cool and comfortable. Perfect coffee weather, I call it.

Dried Things Look The Same

The bff was looking for munchies to buy as gifts and to eat along the way. She wanted umeboshi (dried ume). She told me to stay in and she would only be a quick while. I no like munchies, but I wanted to kaypoh at the astonishing range available. So we went around the dried fruits' section. I saw plenty of boxes of exciting stuff and took a peek.

"Ume!" I animatedly picked up a box. She looked at it, sighed and shook her head. "This isn't ume. It's your favorite thing." I stared at it from all corners for a really long time before I realized that it was.....fig. Dried figs. The bff had this look of utter resignation on her face. She was not going to explain what were the contents in each box laid out across the shelves. Heh.

The bff took a box from the next box. "Here, this is ume." They looked similar! Except that one's bigger than the other! She glared at me. "They don't look the same." She was most emphatic about it. She pointed out the differences in the folds and shapes of the fruits while I stood there looking quite dazed. Finally, she thrusted both boxes at me and told me to be a good girl to study the both closely while she went around grabbing other stuff.

When she came back, she eyeballed me for a bit and went off again to pay for her purchases. Hmmmmpf. They still look quite the same to me, except their sizes! Chehhh. But I can differentiate between these and dried persimmons.