Renewing A Friendship Over Coffee

I like it that boutique coffee shops are springing up all over the island so that I could pop by one depending on where the appointments are located on any given day. After a meeting at Harborfront, I fixed up an impromptu coffee date nearby with an old friend whom I haven't seen in a decade and more.

From facebook updates, I gather that AP and I have a couple of shared common interests without having to drag out the hour by talking about safe topics that we don't really care about. She's been away for many years and just returned to the city. She starts a new job in November, and is feeling out of sorts still. She says she doesn't feel as though she has 'integrated back' into the fast-paced, competitive and sometimes-narrow-minded Singapore society that tries to put women in their 30s into little square categories. (Sadly, often by other 30-something women who already sit within those squares) She's quite unsettled by the attitudes, social trends, and ridiculous number of shopping malls here.

We sat down for a strong aromatic brew of Sulawesi's True Toraja at 93 degreesC Coffee. It's a spacious well ventilated cafe with different types of seats sprinkled around. I like the little poem on the wall. It's a stanza from Emily Dickinson's 'A Bird Came Down'.

It was great catching up with AP. We overshot the intended hour, but were both pleased by the renewed friendship, and the fact that in essence, we haven't really changed since the last conversation about Maya Universe while perched atop Mt Rinjani. Next date- we'll put on Vibrams and exchange opinions on jumps at her place. :D

93 degreesC Coffee
16 Morse Road No.207   Singapore 099228
(Turn in from Wishart Road. It's directly across Telok Ayer Chinese Methodist Church)
T: +65 9649 3902     Email: 93degc@gmail.com

Dinner For 3 And A Bear

A mid-week dinner date was arranged at Luke's Oyster Bar & Chop House. We all made it before 8pm after various work meetings, yes, me included. Drinks were in order. We began with that. I'm quite impressed by the bloody mary.

To Ivan and M.'s credit, they didn't display any sort of eye-rolling to the presence of a tiny cute bear and welcomed him to the table. Luckily they didn't think I've kinda lost control over some of my faculties. :P

I'm okay with corn bread (not corn muffins) per se. I just don't like it with butter, no matter how good the butter is. It's a little weird when the bread is already flavorful. For Luke's version of corn bread, I'd prefer to eat it with chutney or jam.

Lobster rolls and lobster pot pies available in Singapore restaurants are few and far. The lobster rolls aren't available at Luke's after happy hour in the evening. So we settled for the lobster pot pie. While I've had the lobster mac and cheese and love it, I've had no chance to try the pie version. It was a very good attempt with a whole lobster de-shelled and plated. Tender and creamy, it went pretty alright with the crispy pastry.

Oysters, of course, had to be ordered. We were trying to decide between the raw platter or just oysters. Oysters won. Tonight's choices were from Massachusetts and Canada. They were fabulous. We had it after the tasty oyster po'boy burgers. Nicely chilled, the oysters were briny and flavorful. It could be either a great start to a meal, or order 2 platters to be the meal. 

I'm not a fan of oysters and was done after slurping up 3. Then I had a bit of fun placing Indie Bear on the cold bed of ice. He was very interested in the oysters, but I didn't let him have any. After we were almost done, he gamely clambered onto ice and stayed there while we took photos. But he didn't seem to enjoy that very much. Hahah. Don't ask me what the other diners thought- I wasn't prepared to check that out. I already tried to be as surreptitious as possible. 

The photo below is proof that we didn't starve Ivan. While M. and I would be perfectly pleased with ordering numerous starters, Ivan needed something more filling by way of a main. Carbs or something meaty, preferably.

The menu also offers different chunks of beef. Ivan was in the mood for veal, especially after he requested for a different cooking style that is less charred than the last visit. He ordered a portion all for himself. The veal chop arrived beautifully brown, apparently just the way he likes it. Chef Travis Masiero made sure of that.

M. and I were not interested in dessert at all. (By the way, the innovative variation of key lime pie here is good) Ivan couldn't quite resist ordering one for himself. See, another case study of how the men seem to be the ones liking sweets rather than the women. It's not a matter of calories for us; we just don't have that sweet tooth. So the boy(s) opted for a stout-infused milkshake with warm chocolate chip cookies. If you like your comfort sweets, I suppose this hits a spot. From the looks of it, Indie Bear loved it.

Main topic of interest at dinner: the perennial question of whether an omnivore or carnivore will date a vegetarian or a pescetarian. Dating is already a dicey game by itself. Throw in individual quirks and idiosyncrasies, and the game plateau becomes a minefield. So what happens when one party in the relationship changes dietary habits?

(What are your thoughts? You're very welcome to add your 2 cents' worth in the comments.)

3 years into the relationship with the man, I changed dietary preferences. It's not because I feel more confident in the relationship. It's because fundamental beliefs have shifted and the time has come. Knowing him, he'll be respectful because he understands. With that change, came a tangible weight loss and a healthier glow. I'm not anorexic, so people don't raise eyebrows. Vegetarian food that comes out from our kitchen (and many of the friends') is never boring, and never horrible. The man, remains an omnivore. It could be the ageing and slower metabolism, but he has been cutting down on the meat. He eats what he wants, sweetbread and innards included. We don't have to share food.

What's the fun, you might ask. It's still fun if you've the right mindset. Food doesn't define life. Sometimes, I find the obsession with food and conversation among foodies a tad off-putting. It makes each meal a chore. I say this with conviction because I'm bloody fussy about food and the restaurants I step into (i.e. NO RWS and its establishments). It can be very tiring to eat out with me. You think I'm maddening? You should hear my friends.

We adjourned for light drinks. Plenty of pubs along the way, but we preferred something less noisy with strong air-conditioning. Many humans spilled out of the sidewalks. There was a palpable buzz to the night scene mid-week. We walked up the road to the more promising The Club Hotel.

Plenty of interesting choices on the menu at B28. The evening was completed with a smoky dram of single malt, where the snob in me quietly cringed at another table's serious request for a bottle of Jack Daniel's. Although it was tad annoying to have our phone signals go dead in the basement, except for a weak signal if you're on Starhub. No, Indie Bear didn't appear at the bar. Too many humans. He was shy.

About My Choice Of Food

Having a conversation about food with some humans can be very trying. Some think that I eat rabbit food to stay thin. Dear people, I eat those because I truly LOVE it. (Also add curry and alcohol to that please.) To me, they're the most delicious things in the world. How difficult is it to understand that?

I've always been picky about food because the home serves wayy better quality of food than what restaurants offer. It's only in the recent years that better standards of food are served up to customers, and even that, is not a common thing.

I've had no problems giving up meat. It all started with the nauseating smells of chicken. Then there're my ethical concerns. (Not elaborating on this. Google can provide all information) After firmly kicking chicken out of my life, everything else comes easy. I've no great love for poultry, red meat or pork. If you must know, my tastebuds and sense of smell have been heightened to the point that there's a certain stink about meat that doesn't appeal anymore. Fish, is one item I can't give up just yet. Specifically sashimi and sushi, and steamed fish. I can skip shellfish and the rest, no issues.

Next comes the exercise. No diet will succeed without complementing it with exercises. Is it so difficult to move one's ass off the couch to do something? Not for me. I'm very disciplined that way. I was quite happy being plump. But not bothering to exercise, inching towards 65kg and feeling lethargic weren't ideal indications of health. I've always been an active girl, but not into cardio workouts or weight training at the gym. Certainly not running. Ugh.

It's not difficult to get back into the rhythm of doing exercises I love- swimming, pilates and in-line skating. When I grew stronger, I added sparring and parkour, both of which relied on foundations that were solidly formed as a child. The turning point was the daily riding and wiping down of horses over 2 winters in London; that tipped the stagnant weight into a merry downhill slide.

I changed my diet, tanked up on regular exercise, built muscles, stamina and strength, losing weight steadily over 2 years before I hit my ideal approximate that fluctuates between 45 - 47kg and no heavier. The last medical in March revealed that I'm in the best physical condition of my life. Being too thin is not an issue. You can be fatter or thinner than I am, and still not half as healthy or as lithe. So lay off the snide comments and seemingly considerate advice.

Before you criticize or sneer at my food choices, know that you're not paying for my medical bills in the future. It's in selfish interest to be a prick and choose what I want to eat instead of having to justify it to you why this is so. Do not rub it in my face by saying you'll eat shark's fin and foie gras at every single opportunity just to even out us nazi pescetarians (and vegetarians). It's not a war. You might actually be crippled from clogged arteries because of your petulance. If I could punch you, you would feel the superb benefits of exercise.

L'Shanah Tovah Tikatevu

Homemade challah lovingly baked by D. 

Yom Tov.

The Last Bits Of The 24th SIFF

While I was thrilled about the second screening of 'Page One: Inside The New York Times', I wasn't so pleased with the messy logistics in the 24th SIFF. Up to this point, I've been relatively sheltered from the bad experiences of other movie-goers. I've only heard about it from the friends and through the complaints in the newspapers. Tonight, I experienced it in full.

The cinema was switched from Lido 5 to Lido 2 at the last minute. Mind you, both cinemas are configured differently. So if Lido screwed the organizers over the cinema swap, I'd expect a notice outside Lido 2 to say 'free seating' or have organizers to be stationed at the door to re-direct the audience to new seats. But no, they left it to the audience to figure out how and where. People had to go down to the organizers to ask about seating allocation before the latter realized the mess. Seriously. In a nutshell, it was literally free-seating. Bloody confusing. It doesn't help when these tickets (sold at the door one hour before screening) are handwritten and arbitrarily coded. Too bad all around for both audiences and organizers.

The programming for this year's SIFF (24th) is strong, and pleasantly palatable without being too arty, poseur-ish or deliberately obscure. The films are very relatable to many across the different genres. But the logistics, my gawwd...it's ridiculously awful. It's almost as though these people are operating on a not very well-thought-out template without an ounce of common sense.

Anyway, back to the subject at hand, the movies.

'Night Fishing' (Paranmanjang)

Filmed entirely on an iPhone 4, directors (also brothers) Chan-Kyong Park and Chan-Wook Park made sure the Korean short 30-minute screen time is well utilized to optimize spookiness and show how surprisingly clear the shots are.

While I've to kinda guess that it's a supernatural 'thriller', there're clues strewn around, and I suppose in a way, having seen Asian funeral rites helps in the faster understanding of what's happening onscreen. Or perhaps it's just an exposure to the genre or familiarity with Korean horror in general. At least it's not sappy and long-suffering like those Korean dramas I avoid with a ten-foot pole. I quite enjoyed the eerie creepy portions and the partial peek into elaborate Korean funeral rites and the duties of their shaman.

'Page One: Inside The New York Times'

Depending on how interested you are with the stories of behind-the-scenes of The New York Times (NYT), this film will either be a really boring documentary pretending to be clever, or a fairly interesting conversation. I like it. I wonder why there were so many people who left halfway through. (Read The Guardian's review here, and MediaBistro's summary here.) 

There isn't much of a plot, so to speak. It touches on certain scandals and milestones in the paper. It speaks of press freedom. But it doesn't tell you very much what the objectives of this film are. It's not a comprehensive film, but it does focus on the independence of the paper and ponders about the relevance of it versus its partnership with the other non mainstream media platforms.

The camera mainly follows the very-in-your-face veteran reporter David Carr, who after a while, can be a little grating. It's of course, a running debate about whether newspapers will survive in this new world where information flows faster than the reporter is able to get to. I'm glad it doesn't try to stretch the point that only mainstream media is a credible source of information. Most jarring, it never fails to remind you for no less than six times that it's unthinkable if NYT should fail and close.

Anyway, it was a good watch for an evening. I was amused to see old footage of NYT power meetings that comprised of all men and no women. Very Mad Men-ish. I'd hate to have lived in those days. The man doesn't want to watch Mad Men with me. Each time he does that, he gets smacked, cursed at, and kicked. Muahahahha. I greatly dislike the series. So in the portions of NYT power meetings in the 20th century, it's nice to see more ladies in senior positions.

No Need Batteries

For a lark, the girlfriend gave me this manual water game gadget. It's been placed on the desk within easy reach. Oddly, I've been picking it up quite a bit. Not out of boredom, but pushed by a real desire to tinkle with it.

It's no sophisticated toy. But it's brainless fun. In a way, it's kinda welcome to play a manual game where there isn't any sort of backlight or fear that the battery runs out. Best of all, it doesn't make any sounds. I play video games and whatnots with the beeps, shrieks and theme songs muted, and in absolute silence. Zombies are ideally slayed that way too.

As a kid, I was into toys of course. I loved M.A.S.K and Transformers. I liked those western bar thingies you play on a handheld. But I outgrew them for Doom and DND. Then you get the nonsensical Angry Birds and stuff like that. I've long forgotten about manual games. Okay, nerf guns not included in the reminiscing.

I've been late for pilates class twice because I was so immersed in turning it upside down, left right out, shaking it and whatnots, trying to get the maximum number of rings into the 2 posts. It's ridiculous how long a simple handheld device can occupy me. Well, unlike the story the photo tells, the device doesn't belong to my bear. It's MINE. I'm quite addicted to it not because of a lack of things to do. It's just...old skool fun.

Old-Skool Food

Hanging around Lido Theatres the past week has resulted in us having quite a fair bit of meals in the area, fancy or otherwise. Plenty of choices. For old times' sake, the man wanted to eat at The Ship. It's an interesting place to me that has somehow been locked in time, and still popular.

By evening, the famed sliced fish bee hoon soup would have been sold out. Only the western menu remains. Fish and chips, escargots, steaks and etc. Nice to see a baked ikan kurau fillet offered on the menu. An Asian offering compared to the regular haddock or halibut. And they still hand out old-skhool SCS butter. WOAH. The food isn't fantastic. For the price, you could go downstairs to The Canteen and possibly have a more satisfying and cheaper meal.

Much of our little island's history can be gleaned from food. I suppose it's nostalgia. As we ate, the man recalled how these restaurants were THE venues to dine at in those days. That was proper fine dining. The Hakka or Hainanese (?) chefs who cooked for their colonial masters and learnt how to grill a steak. What evolved were western restaurants with a Chinese twist. Remember Troika at Shenton Way then Liat Towers way back when? Now we're left with The Ship, Shashlik and the English Restaurant at Sloane Court Hotel. The servers are about as old as the restaurants. I wonder if these pieces of charm will go into food history when the servers pass on.

In our time as teenagers, we grew up with Ponderosa, Jack's Place and Compass Rose. :) I'm not really sorry that they disappeared (Jack's Place, not quite) into the dark mudpool restaurants that have bowled out, along with Texas Fried Chicken and A & W.

By the way, while Fabrice Gobert's 'Lights Out' is a big yawn to me (think re-living high school nightmares of cliques, being bullied and whatnots. Only saving grace- the soundtrack is scored by Sonic Youth), Hitoshi Matsumoto's 'Symbol'  is a big WTF. I greatly dislike it. I was this close to walking out of the theatre. Whatever the director/writer/actor is high on, I ought have some of that before sitting through this film.

Son de Almendra

Mayra Montero's 'Dancing to Almendra'. It's translated into English by Edith Grossman. It looked primed for a light read, a bit of a crime story going on here. A Cuban noir, if you would. (Read Washington Post's thoughts and NYT's review here.)

1957 Havana, Cuba. An enigmatic pre-Castro city of vibrance and intrigue. A vibrant setting that is brought to life in the book. It weaves in and out of the layers of society, giving depth and shades to an already colorful city in the form of the various characters and their different pursuits.

The author does not shy away from portraying the country from what history has recorded. The fifties in Havana were hedonistic days when it grew to be a Latin Vegas under President Batista's desire to boost gaming revenues before he was exiled in 1959. Meyer Lansky is a name frequently thrown up then; between politicians and the mafia, it's a name not to be underestimated. The police seemed to be nowhere in the picture.

The story- an escaped hippopotamus that is eventually shot and killed by pursuers. On the same day, mafia capo Umberto Anastasia murdered in the barber's chair further away in New York. A side plot is provided through an older one-armed woman- the mysterious Yolanda, It's an exciting journey for protagonist rookie reporter Joaquín Porrata.

"I'd take it personally to the editorial offices as soon as I got to Havana. This would be not just another article about the war for control of the casinos but an analysis of the situation of gambling in Cuba: in recent years, the plan seemed to have been completed, the government didn't want to do business with newcomers, and the island stopped being the open territory it had always been. Those who showed interest in obtaining a franchise in the new hotels were advised to direct their attention to other establishments in the Caribbean or in South America. This was how a silent little war had begun, waged with a good amount of discretion except for the death of Anastasia, which had been bungled."

It's a fun little compact story that has been well paced. Mayra Montero is an excellent writer, and Edith Grossman has done a fabulous job of translating it. This is the first time I'm reading Mayra Montero, and I'm going to get her 8 other books.

Vegetarian Moussaka

Our version of vegetarian moussaka takes a lot of effort to make; neither the man or I is keen to do it often. I miss it quite a bit and want a bite. The man said, "Find me some nice people and we'll do dinner." So I found some dear friends and special new ones to make a table on a Sunday evening. It's pretty obvious that none of us cared very much for F1 or any of its fringe events.

The man tried out a green minestrone soup. It was an easy vegetable soup finished with a dollop of homemade pesto meshed with parmigiano-reggiano. He's very particular about not adding store-bought pesto. Since we would be having moussaka with tomato ragoût, it wouldn't be wise to add a tomato-based soup. A portion of the huge pot of vegetable stock was put to good use- stirred in a variety of lentils, onions, carrots and cabbages to make a light soup. A spoonful of pungent pesto would flavor the soup further upon serving.

As fun appetizers, there were easy homemade guacamole, and pumpkin fritters done in olive oil and a battery of lightly spiced curry powder, garnished by curry leaves from our plant out at the balcony. We assumed these would complement each other. In case the fritters didn't go with the guacamole, we added a store-bought packet of lentil chips for some crispy punch. I forgot all about the homemade fruit chutney in the fridge till after the friends left. Arrrgh.

The mains were cute-but-not-so-small slabs of vegetarian moussaka. Depending on the stomach capacity of each guest, each slab was either too much or just enough. Muahahahha. Layer by layer, we made the ingredients- boiling the lentils, stirring up the ragoût, frying the zucchini and eggplants, potatoes, and trying to shape each one as neatly as possible.

Did you think I cooked? Of course not! I simply stirred and did whatever the man instructed. We're not pedantic cooks. He'd say,"Add salt to the stock, will you?" Oddly, I don't need to ask how much. I'd just sprinkle, by instinct. Portions too, are done by instinct. If you ask me what the soup lacks, I'd know whether it needs- nutmeg, cinnamon, lemon juice or even raw sugar. As for the exact quantity, I go by a pinch, a dash, a handful, etc. Heh. After all, as a kid, I did squat in the grandmother's kitchen to be ordered around like a little stove elf.

After finishing the layering, I felt rather proud of my handiwork. Oof. It was kinda fun! Had to take a photo of the tray before topping it up with the béchamel sauce bubbling in the pan, and grated parmesan cheese. The tray sat quietly aside. It would go into the oven 40 minutes before the guests arrived. Then it would be all piping hot and ready to be served after the soup.

We haven't had anyone over for dinner properly for some months. This was a random perfect excuse to have the friends meet, eat and chat, and hopefully didn't bore the hell out of one another. :P  When the soup was almost ready, I went out to an empty dining room. Where's everyone?! They had trooped to the music room to hear one tinkle with the piano. Easy jazz sounds. He's a great 'by-the-ear' player who's got an astounding touch on the keys. He randomly played some bars from 'Phantom of the Opera'. See why I love my friends- they can entertain themselves perfectly. Heh.

The girlfriend called dibs on dessert and brought over a gorgeous strawberry cake. No photos of it here. I hate the lighting. Won't do it justice. She greatly reduced the amount of sugar in the mixture, and placed extra strawberries on the cake. YAYYY! By the time dessert rolled around, we had a tiny bit of space to squeeze in a couple of bites, fueled by more bottles of Croucher ale and single malts.

(Not the best photo of the moussaka. There's a clearer one from 2008.)

Groceries Today

The man's finally done with his busy period at work and has retrieved his frame of mind to cook for the weekend. He seems to like boiling stock in the nights. During week, a huge pot of vegetable stock had been prepped and stored away in the freezer.

We still needed fresh items and the man preferred to get his supply from the colorful Tekka Market. It was amazing how I packed a spot of jumping, 25 laps in the pool and taichi all by 9am, and managed to hop along to the market with the man. Already late! He mumbled. Hope they haven't run out of things! It's not like I can be useful...but since I made a request for vegetarian moussaka to be on the menu, I should ahemmmm...try to help with the prep.

There were no du Puy lentils to be found at the wet market. We were pleasantly surprised when we strolled in for a coffee at Smitten and found the Farmers' Market in operation. The man was happy. Among the stalls, he found organic Himalayan lentils and kidney beans which are delicious and would do well in the ragoût. We also came away with packs of Croucher beer for the fridge and a cold bottle in hand for instant gratification.

Colors, textures, sights and sounds. What a happy morning. Ooooh! Figs too. We buy them weekly from Chia's Vegetables, but today we bought extra boxes of black figs, and beautiful green and red apples. It's Rosh Hashanah next week. :) I love love love figs.

Don't Tell Them "You Should..."

We sat down at eM and ordered our food. JP said, "Iced water for us please." The server stopped writing, blinked, looked at her and asked, "Iced water? Are you sure you don't want warm water?"

My eyes widened. I stared at JP. This must be the thousandth time she's heard this from servers at eateries and restaurants on this island. The expression on her face was priceless. I stifled a loud cackle and glanced downwards, willing the laughter not to erupt. JP was good. She hid the annoyance in her voice. "Yes, iced water. I'm sure." The moment the server turned away to arrange our order, I laughed and laughed and laughed.

The best part, when the server came back with the 2 glasses of iced water, she nearly stammered it out, "Ummm...the water is cold tap water. From the tap. Is that okay?" JP smiled and said with great neutrality in her tone, "Yes, it's okay." I curled up in the seat and roared with mirth. It had taken her plenty of self restraint not to smack this server who was polite and competent (great language skills there too), but had clearly, stepped out of her boundaries.

Poor JP. Ever since her belly bump got more prominent, she has been receiving unsolicited 'well-meaning advice' from various people from all walks of life. In most of Asia, I believe it's brushed off as 'advice' and general concern. In truth, it's ridiculously rude to offer opinions and advice to pregnant women when it's not expressly sought.

My other pregnant friends stand in agreement. Fortunately their mothers rebelled against the idea of confinement when birthing them. So when it comes to the younger generation, the mothers don't heap advice on them either. Either that, or they've had enough of the "You should..." spiel from relatives and don't need additional nonsense from random humans. The pregnant friends find it incredibly irritating to have unwanted members of the public and other non-related humans proffer advice completely based on myth, legends and customary practices instead of scientific recommendations from gynaecologists. What is it about pregnant women that make people think that they could take more liberties with them and be their unwanted new best friends? The feisty ones take the effort to tell people to STFU. The genial others will just brush it off, but not without major eye-rolling.

Most of my friends aren't inclined to know the gender of the baby, and say so when asked. Apparently, many traditional mindsets can't seem accept that. Dear people, you don't build a life based on gender preferences, and you certainly don't tell these pregnant ladies what they should or shouldn't do. It's their baby, not yours, not even if you've a wealth of experience to share. Nobody asked you, so butt out.

Pineapple Cakes (鳳梨酥)

The girlfriend made a surprise drop-off at the flat. She refused to tell me what it was. "A surprise!" From her tone over the phone, it sounded like a gift of food. Very brave girl. Few people bother to give us gifts of food because we're so picky about it!

When I finally got home in the night to check out the gift, the maid had stored it in the fridge. Whewww. It can't sit out in the open in our weather. The minimalistic brown box holds pineapple cakes (鳳梨酥) from Sunnyhills! Apparently they're pretty famous in Taiwan and now, the label is stocked at a lovely little shop at Raffles Hotel fashioned very much like a teahouse. The girlfriend likes how they welcome everyone with a slice of the product and a cup of tea (oolong), regardless of whether you ultimately walk out with a purchase. I think it's a nice gesture. I should go take a look soon. I've heard of it in January when the company did the promo rounds, but didn't bother since the family doesn't fancy snacks.

The girlfriend has made quite a discerning purchase. I stared hard at the packaging. The information in English provides bare basics and I don't quite like that. It's only when I flipped to the a random side of the box, it states 3 Chinese characters- "奶蛋素", with no punctuation, literally, milk, egg, vegetarian, or ovo-lacto vegetarian. This is so important. Most commercial products contain lard and animal proteins which many friends consciously decline. I could also get these pineapple cakes as gifts if the friends are so inclined to try. But I don't like it that the "奶蛋素" isn't stated in English and the table of ingredients only give the barest of details and leave it to the consumer to surmise. Most of the friends won't understand the Chinese characters and will have to base it on trust- of what I tell them, and the bare information given. Not quite ideal for a brand that's pushing out an 'atas', 'holistic' consumer experience.

Individually wrapped, we couldn't eat a thick slab each. We shared. Cut into tiny little pieces, we ate them with homemade iced lemongrass and ginger tea. The pineapple filling was surprisingly not cloyingly sweet. There's some bite to it. So I managed 2 tiny pieces. I don't mind it. The rest is happily sitting in the fridge now. We like it cold. We're most pleased to share it with guests who pop by this week.

About the shop's marketing promise. It states that the pineapple cake is made with organic Taiwanese pineapples (grown on the plains of Bagua Mountains, 八卦山), free range eggs, Japanese flour and New Zealand butter. Hmmmm. Okaaay. The proof of quality is in its taste. I'm no expert on Chinese snacks. While I don't want to ingest them in huge quantities or on a regular basis, I'm pleased to have tried this pineapple cake. Can the quality be sustained? I hope so; it seems to be pretty alright for the now.

Khansama Castle

At lunch time, Biopolis was kinda empty. Huge buildings and very few humans around. Perhaps they're all morphing into the experiments at the labs. It felt as though one could use this area to film a zombie movie. Wooohooo. I was almost tempted to run on the streets and jump about.

We saw no zombies along the way to Immunos and a few more humans at Khansama Castle. Decided to try this out because we were curious about the decor. The decor at the Village at Science Park is a hoot. We were hoping that the Castle would be OTT tawdry. It was disappointingly mild.

The food was alright. The standards don't seem to vary much except that some of the stuff is cooked differently in the buffet compared to an a la carte order. i.e. more ingredients to justify the higher price per item. The very reasonable S$12 per pax lunch buffet gave a light spread of 2 soups, 6 vegetarian dishes, 2 meat items, and all the papadum and naan that you could eat.

We need to get back to the kitschy Village.

Flora & Fauna Of The Malay Peninsula

Forewarned and intrigued by notabilia's post, and not about to pay S$800 for a limited edition 2-volume selection of 'The William Farquhar Collection of Natural History Drawings', D and I popped into the re-opened Goh Seng Choo Gallery at the National Museum to view the drawings.

A small portion was on display a couple of years back and now, the full set has found a permanent home in this small gallery. For now, it's free admission to the public. Not all 477 commissioned works in the collection are displayed. Only 70 are brought out at any time with one annual rotation scheduled.

While you can stroll through the 70 drawings in a matter of 15 minutes, it would be nice to allocate a little more time to appreciate the history. We lingered over the drawings for a closer look. The techniques of the Chinese artists commissioned to do these paintings are most interesting. It's a mix of Chinese brushwork (shade, texture and dotting) and Western watercolor dry-brush techniques which blend beautifully into the details of the veins of leaves and shades of color on the fruits, spices, porcupine quills, feathers and tree bark.

The works are gorgeous in their hand-painted glory in a quaint, almost archaic style. They're also however, absolutely entertaining in their non-precise details, torn between Farquhar's scientific requirements and the artists' recherché slant. They look nothing like the creature we can rationally envision. It's quite a hoot since we now know what the real bird/animal looks like in hindsight gleaned from digital manipulation.

There're the monkeys which are rather hilarious. We naughtily grinned and whispered of not knowing any monkey this elegant. We were rather entertained by some of the descriptions which acknowledge the implausibility of certain birds associated with local flora. The drawing of the Blue-Winged Pitta is matched with a mangosteen tree. The description wryly states, "The blue-winged pitta, an uncommon visitor to Singapore, is depicted here on an unlikely perch - a mangosteen tree."

'Oriental Bay Owl and Angsana'

At the 'Oriental Bay Owl and Angsana', I paused and giggled. It looks like an exotic owl straight out of 'One Thousand and One Nights'. The description read, "This drawing illustrates the tension between Farquhar's demands for scientific illustration and the artist's aesthetics interventions. In adhering to the standards of botanical drawing, the artist included a dissection of the individual angsana flower. Yet, much of the rest of this drawing is imagined, from the unrealistic separation of the owl's stylised feathers to the deliberate rendering of a canopy over its head."

We just had to go to the museum shop. D needed to buy some prints of Singapore for her associates. We browsed the shop's eclectic and varied offerings. Yes, the S$800 book is available at the museum shop. Errmmm, I don't love the contents enough to pay the asking price. However, there's a more affordable one-volume version at S$70 which includes essays by John Bastin and Kwa Chong Guan providing insights into background of each painting and William Farquhar himself.

3 Storeys (Pop, Ceramic and Glass)

Took an evening stroll with notabilia to White Canvas Gallery to take a look at '3 Storeys' (Pop Art, Ceramic Art, Glass Art) presented by Casey Chen, Saya Yamaguchi and Tan Sock Fong. The 2-week exhibition reflects the artists' interpretation of life in Tiong Bahru estate through their various forms of the art.

There're graceful swirls of color in the Tan Sock Fong's glass conceptions, clearly inspired by the colored glass windows of the quaint apartments in the estate. Fascinating. Some are precisely moulded, others are raw, some are pictorial portrayals of everyday objects. I lingered over some of the shapes and colors.

Saya Yamaguchi's ceramics in this exhibition seem to lean heavily towards shapes of cups and vases. While I admired them for the work done, I also wondered what inspired them. Very probably from the scenes of people having tea with their bak kut teh, or simply sitting around chatting over cups of tea, be it Chinese tea, masala tea or teh halia.

Pop art is always a little mind-boggling. Depending on how one sees it, it's fairly interesting to see the artist's comments, and often a satirical 3D projection. How thought-provoking it would be, also depends on the audience's reading. Aside from the unusual bears made of the local currency notes, there're other displays in various materials. The centrepiece in the room seems to be the largest item, which is the carpet art of a Singapore currency note, created by Casey Chen, hand-tufted by weavers in Thailand, using New Zealand wool. Very striking. It can be yours for S$25,000.

Always, in contemporary art exhibitions, one walks away thinking, is there a need for art to justify itself? Or does the work of art find its value primarily in its content or in our approach to its interpretation? Or perhaps, an artist's desire to be free from interpretation, in the absence of hermeneutics, any contrivance to find a reason in an artwork becomes philistinism?

Much Ado About Milk

Had tea at Arteastiq where the server completely bemused and befuddled me with his "no plain milk cold" but they had "steam milk cold". After that he came back to say the cafe didn't have it after all.

I've had enough. I wasn't in a mood to let it go, not after last weekend's nonsense at Canele Lido where my chamomile tea came as 'caramel macaron', and even after I checked with said server, she said that chamomile tea wasn't served at the cafe and asked me to pick another tea from the menu. It was only when I went to the counter to ask the supervisors if it was so, then I realized that the blur-like-sotong server doesn't really speak English, and expects MY pronunciation to be like hers before she can understand the order.

At Arteastiq, this server looked totally confused at my request of "Plain milk, cold." He evidently understood that it was meant for the 2-year-old, but he didn't seem to comprehend my request. ARRRGH. Do I speak in such a strange accent or send out weird requests that these servers just don't understand me?

So I continued my questions. The story became- the machine was spoilt, and then they ran out of milk and the supplier hadn't come with new stocks. The server did sound really apologetic. Whatever. It didn't make much sense to me. The other table ordered caffe latte and it was served without fuss. Hello, caffe latte requires milk isn't it? Milk. It had better be a different quality from the menu's "steam milk" then, if the "steam milk" had been available. *cue loud shrieks

AND, please amend your menu, Arteastiq. It's supposed to be 'steamED' milk.

I gave up. Luckily Lil'Missy didn't need the milk right there and then. She could wait for a while more so that we could grab a bottle from the supermarket. Our teas were at least adequately presented and there was no more funny business since we didn't ask for anything else outside of the printed menu.

The dreary rain continued all day, but the mood indoors was uplifting as the girlfriend and I chatted. It's quite refreshing that we can meet on weekdays instead of the weekends. But it still takes so much effort to arrange a date because both our schedules are packed out! Her little girl merrily used her tiny camera to capture certain shots which looked really alright! At least she didn't chop off our heads. Heh.

Pearl Jam Twenty

Nirvana and Pearl Jam gave me sanity through the angsty years in secondary school of which I hated every single second. Punk rock, alternative rock. It was a fashionable period of ahemmm....questionable plaid and trademark locks. That was the look. I didn't embrace the culture, but I understood the torment, loved (still do) the music and soaked it all up regardless. That 1995 Pearl Jam concert in Singapore, a stop on their Vitalogy tour, I was there.

Tonight, I was persuaded to give up all other films that shared the 7.30pm slot (like 'Little Treasures of Lombok', 'Curry Munchers', 'Cold Weather'...) for the screening of rock docu-film 'Pearl Jam Twenty' (PJ20) in its official worldwide release. Directed by Cameron Crowe, it was a pretty good one. We clapped politely before the show and clapped vigorously after. It's a film, but it felt like watching a gig. :) (Read reviews from Forbes, The Guardian and CBS News.)

20 years together as a band in more or less the same line-up. No easy feat. Pearl Jam has never been known to sell out their ideals. They stay true to themselves and to the music. In an interview during the film's screening at the Toronto International Film Festival, Eddie Vedder said,“Playing in a band is really a delicate thing, .........If you’ve ever tried to order a pizza with five people, it’s difficult. ... So we’ve been very fortunate.” 

Each of us have our favorite songs. Alright, maybe 2 or 3 favorites. It's a 20-year collection yo. I love 'Alive'. The whole point, as a teen, is to stay alive, to remain alive, and to be alive. Wasn't it? Isn't it? The man likes 'Elderly Woman Behind The Counter In A Small Town'. He's totally into the band when Ten came out. He was doing rounds in Oz and the album was on his (my gawwwwd) walkman throughout. The inital couple of Pearl Jam albums were on (!!!) cassette tapes. Another likes 'Corduroy'. Well, we did own a pair of corduroy jeans back then. But the point is, we all hated passionately back then, and probably can't recall why we hated a certain person then. It probably doesn't matter today. Sigh.

Plenty of memories. What's yours?

When the credits ended and people streamed out of the cinema, there was an excited chatter. I think there's something we felt...a touch of, what do you call it...nostalgia. Let's just say we'll never see Eddie Vedder climb the rigs and dive into the crowds again.

The Friends Made A Surprise Appearance

The crazy friends from Thailand popped into town at the very last minute to also catch Mariinsky Ballet's 'Don Quixote' on Sunday and some films. They could have waited for the company to go up to Bangkok. Mariinsky's staying there for the week for 'Le Corsaire' first, then 'Don Quixote'. But no, the friends decided to fly down to our little red dot for exciting happenings.

I had to find time to meet them and sit down for a quick chat. That meant adjusting the entire day's busy schedule. I've already got the films settled on some dates with another group of friends. Luckily, this group of friends got tickets to watch the same films for the evening.

Mad rush, but we had time for a boisterous early dinner at Shunjuu. Wheneven we meet in Singapore, often, we don't quite sit down to a proper evening meal because that slot is always taken up by performances. We do alot of drinks, fast food or light bites. This round is slightly less of a rush- we even had time to check out Smitten before dinner. We definitely regretted ingesting caffeine at 5pm.

'A Heartbeat Away' and 'Pina'

Then we ran off to watch Gale Edwards' 'A Heartbeat Away' and Wim Wenders' 'Pina'. The beauty of 2 films showing in the same cinema. Ran a little tight on the time though. But we picked these 2 films for its general genre more than the storyline and plot development. Rock music and dance. Loads of color and human passion.'A Heartbeat Away' ummm....isn't what I expected. Never mind the predictable storyline. The treatment of the scenes left it a little disjointed in trying to be all artsy about it. It turned out a little cheesy. The lines spouted by the actors were so bad that I couldn't stop laughing. (Read The Vine's review here and also SMH's.) If you like 'Billy Elliot' and of course 'Brassed Off', there's a chance you'll like 'A Heartbeat Away'.  'Pina' is more of a dance than a film per se. It's quite a change to see dance in sunlight away from the traditional notion of a stage. Watching it in 3D enhanced the viewing experience and the imagery portrayed. However, it's not anything like 'Billy Elliot'. (Read The Guardian's review here.)

Too bad we didn't pick the same films for tonight. We split up across venues. No sweat. I'll see them again very soon (in 2 weeks!) for the performances at da:ns festival.

Look Beyond The Tiger

I thoroughly enjoyed being immersed in the world of 'The Tiger's Wife' written by Serbian-American Téa Obreht. (Click here for Guardian's review of the book. Also see New York Times' comments. ) A story about Balkan conflict, the narrator Natalia tries to make sense of her grandfather's mysterious death, and in her quest, learnt about his early life, ideals and dreams.

"Everything necessary to understand my grandfather lies between two stories: the story of the tiger's wife, and the story of the deathless man. These stories run like secret rivers through all the other stories of his life-of my grandfather's days in the army; his great love for my grandmother; the years he spent as a surgeon and a tyrant of the University."

Set in an unamed Balkan country in the fictitious village of Galina, folklore, village tales and superstition form the story that sounds almost light-hearted bellies the author's view of the pain that has torn through her childhood home country. Fables and allegory run amok in the book. Of course the escaped tiger is symbolic. It's as real as any in the book. Overtones of the Kosovo War loom large in the shadows of the incidents and tales described.

The author places all the stories in the foreground till I was almost distracted. What mattered to me was the overarching narrative in the background. It's not so much of the relationship between Natalia and her grandfather that the author is telling, but more of the stories that she isn't directly saying.

"His trips to the zoo had become a thing of the past long before the bombing forced the City to close its gates. There was a lot of speculation about this closure-people, not just my grandfather, were furious, felt it was a sign of giving up, accused the City of using the bombing as an excuse to slaughter the animals to save on resources. Indignant, the authorities set up a weekly newspaper column that ran current pictures of the animals and reported on their well-being, on the birth of their cubs, on plans for zoo renovation when the raids were over."

Gloves For Washing!

You must think I'm loony for being so discerning over gloves used for washing. But hey, I truly like washing dishes, so gloves matter and feature rather largely each time I step into the kitchen.

I've probably tried out all the gloves sold at the supermarkets and am not fond of most. I need them to be latex-free and nifty at the fingertips so that the dishes don't slip in the soap suds. They also need to be kinda thin and be able to withstand the hot water I use for washing grease off pots and pans.

There's a particularly decent German brand found at Takashimaya departmental store. I've never bothered remembering the label. I simply head there, pick up the familiar green gloves and check out with 3 pairs. Can't be bothered to buy more. But the supply is inconsistent. The mall doesn't stock up often. A pair will last me for about 2 months before tearing. I needed a second label as a back-up. I was beyond thrilled when the girlfriend bought me 3 pairs gloves from her Oz trip. Wieeeee! These make wayy better travel gifts than any crappy souvenirs.

The girlfriend mentioned that one of her friends love using this brand of gloves and would ask her to buy a large batch each time she pops over to Oz. I forgot about buying this earlier in the year when doing the rounds in Oz. When I finally remembered about trying out the mentioned label, it was the girlfriend's last day in the city, so I didn't bother asking her about it. What do I know- she had already put aside some for me!

I love these pretty white gloves tinged with pink tips. They work beautifully!

Let's just say that I've managed to cart over a year's supply of my favorite toilet paper (Kleenex Cottonelle!) from Oz because the supermarkets keep playing hide and seek with the stocks for it. So ensuring a continuous supply of this brand of gloves won't be a big issue. Heeeheeeee.

Soaking Up The 24th SIFF

The 24th Singapore International Film Festival (SIFF) has started and my nights are packed out these two weeks. I'm watching it with the man and different groups of friends! Not possible to watch all with just one person or even two. When it comes to movies, even the man and I, as it is with books, have vastly divergent genre preferences. When we first dated, he tried asking me to watch romantic shows. I kept saying no. After he sneakily made me watch two forgettables and I walked out in the middle, he's learnt that I really really dislike movies to the tune of 'You've Got Mail', 'Notting Hill' , 'Four Weddings and A Funeral', 'Titanic' and 'Love Actually'. So you can see, I didn't spend my youth in cinemas. (Wait a minute, I think I might just hate Hugh Grant too!)

We had such a hoot deciding which movie to watch without having the schedules clash. Still it happened and many of us had to swop tickets. It was a tough fight between 'Twenty' (Pearl Jam) and 'Troll Hunter'. Twenty won. Troll Hunter is listed on iTunes. The majority wanted to watch Pearl Jam 'live' on a huge screen. They probably wish it's a real gig. Ha! When we saw 'The Tree of Life' in the listings of SIFF, we didn't bother with it. It's got Brad Pitt. Need we even doubt that it'll hit iTunes and of course mainstream cinema? 

'Beyond (Svinalängorna)'

I like Swedish films very much. There's something very stark about storylines. I'm not too familiar with the era of Bergman, it's Lukas Moodysson's dark tragedies that call to me. In SIFF's listings, the depressing 'Beyond (Svinalängorna)' directed and co-written by Pernilla August thrilled me. She's one actress under Bergman who has kinda successfully made the transit to writing and directing. Most movie-goers will be familiar with protagonist Noomi Rapace. I've liked her since I saw the 2006 'Enhälligt beslut'. There's a social commentary in Beyond about the Finns, who are the largest immigrant group in Sweden. However, as a foreign viewer of the film, the portions I can claim to fully understand, are only the social aspects presented of a dysfunctional family because of thoroughly irresponsible parents.

'Griff the Invisible'

Halfway through 'Griff the Invisible', I almost elbowed the man in the ribs out of pure irritation. Yes, while it's a fairly well-directed and lovingly produced movie about a man's tortured mental self finding some solace in a surprising partner, it borders on a romance. A tad grating. Yes, I'm prejudiced. But I recognized the subtle touches of social awkwardness and how the superhero-thingy bellies a serious mental issue. Still, the build-up isn't quite there and the pacing isn't great.

Luckily for the man, lead actor Ryan Kwanten made an appearance at this screening, sat through the show and cordially took a Q & A session after. On stage, he really felt more like Jason Stackhouse instead of Griff, but less annoying. Heee. He gamely took all questions and exuded a really friendly vibe. Nobody was starstruck, and importantly, nobody ran to him screaming or melted into a puddle of mush. It made for a nice end to the evening.

Balloons & Bubbles

Good photos of children, dogs and cats are virtually impossible to capture without a good 50mm lens on a DSLR. Gaaah. I got really blurred ones of the jumping kids and the glossy dog who were all distracted by the many humans and food smells. Adequate lighting, but tough to crystallize with my point and shoot. I captured what I could (which were really bad shots), and put the camera away.

Corsage had prepped activities of balloon painting and lotsa bottles of bubbles for the kids. After a while, they ignored the large humans and went about doing their thang. They were running all over and laughing, showing off their proud creations to all who requested a closer.  Lotsa fun for them! I didn't join in. I didn't come to a children's party to terrorize the little tots. I put on my best behavior and sat with the friends to chat, tickled a tiny one with the host's bottle of single malt provided for the attending alcoholics, and stuffed myself full of fishballs and homemade tuna sandwiches.

Everyone definitely noticed how the birthday tot's missymessy dress of colorful hearts matched the sprinkles on the chocolate cake. Very cute! I eyed that birthday cake from start till my first mouthful. It promised to be a yummy cake that would be more chocolaty than cloying. It was one tasty cake from Vicky's which thankfully didn't overload on the sugar. I had 3 bites of it before passing the rest to the man to polish it off.

Happy Two, my dear sweet Bubbles!

At The Waterfront!

Back at the Esplanade for a consecutive night, but instead of being dolled up, it was a casual tog for the heat. We wanted to watch MONSTER CAT, Lunarin and West Grand Boulevard. As we walked through the spaces, it was nice to see audience dressed up for the ballet at the Theatre. We were headed to the outdoor theatre and flopped around in birkies. Heh.

In between sets, there was time for a drink. Not hungry enough to eat just yet. Food at a little tot's birthday party in the afternoon filled us up. Drinks were sufficient. COLD. Cold beer was good. I was feeling dehydrated and stuck to iced water and tea. The air was deathly still this evening and not a hint of a breeze stirred. Arrrrgh.

When we finally felt a little hungry after the gigs, it was off to Murugan's for a late dinner. It was bustling! Ordered the beautiful masala dosai that came with the yummy potato and pumpkin. We also had the pongal that went beautifully with sambar. Carb-laden. Luckily we parked rather far away and the walk back to the car was somewhat good. We got to see the Diwali street lights properly before human crush next weekend when it's officially lit.

At Mariinsky Ballet's Don Quixote

Attended my first show under the series of da:ns festival 2011. I can't wait for the rest of the performances in October. Wieeeeeee!!! Spent a magnificent evening at 'Don Quixote', presented by the Mariinsky Ballet and the Orchestra of St Petersburg.

Reading Cervantes' 'Don Quixote' in school didn't really fire the imagination or make the story come alive this vividly. Yea, I know. How could I miss all that Spanish fiery passion. I don't know! I was too busy identifying literary devices and reading the 'right things' in order to pass the exams. Anyway, I love how The Bolshoi Ballet had put this out, so I was most eager to watch Mariinsky's interpretation of the ballet in its choreography. (Read a review of it at The Guardian) The moment a couple of girlfriends and I knew the company was coming, we went about the business of securing tickets.

A full evening at the theatre meant that we should pad the stomach with light bites and drinks at 5pm. After the show, we trooped back to E's house where a light supper had been prepared to facilitate our noisy discussion about Mariinsky's interpretation versus Bolshoi's. It was such a wonderful recap of the evening riot of music and colors.

Some have watched Mariinsky Ballet's productions, some of us haven't. I've been so excited about watching the company for the first time. For those of us first-timers, we weren't disappointed. What a lavish and extravagant night! Those costumes are spectacularly jaunty, telling of the most splendid period in the arts and literature in Spain which has been gently infused with influences from the Italian Renaissance. I've no idea if these costumes transmit total authenticity, but hey, this isn't flamenco which requires a traditional trajes de faraleas. The strength and unsurpassed techniques of the dancers are breathtaking to behold. I love the cabriole, chaînés and coda in this performance.

I was completely blown away. :)

Ristorante Bologna With The Parentals

The man and I had separate engagements and missed the weekly dinner with the parentals. So we rescheduled it for later in the week. It's a date we'd always try to keep, regardless of how busy we are. Thankfully, the parentals eat late too. Dinner at 9pm makes it much easier to stick to our date.

We earlier picked Candlenut Kitchen as the restaurant for the week, completely forgetting that they've gone off to NYC for the Singapore Takeout happening this weekend. When we finally realized that, we scrapped the idea of Peranakan food. Not feeling like popping into the other few traditional restaurants. So it was an easy switch to Italian fare, and it was off to the dependable and often underrated Ristorante Bologna.

It's an ideal venue if the table comprises of fussy eaters. There's always something for everyone. Service is decent and the kitchen never fails to accommodate all our quirky requests. Importantly, Chef Carlo Marengoni is still at helm. For the past few years, we've gotten used to his cooking. He serves up consistently good food that comes with comforting, familiar tastes.

Since our dinners have been arranged at progressively later (from 8pm to 9pm!) slots due to work and every other social appointment, the food at dinner has also proportionately lessened. Nobody really needs to eat that much. A light dinner would suffice. After all, most people are going to eat breakfast, isn't it? Over the past 2 years, the stomach has learnt to accommodate less in the nights when I don't have enough time to work it off before bedtime. The table passed on the meats and fish and stuck to a couple of different starters and pasta for the mains.

My garden pasta was beautifully done. The portion's too much for me, so it was shared. The kitchen was generous with the clams in our order, so those were spread around too. However, the mussels came tightly closed with the pasta. All 3 of them. Odd. So we sent the 3 miserable pieces back to the rather horrified server. Within 10 minutes, there was a replacement plate piled high with piping hot (opened) mussels. Heh. Yummy.

I Smelt Like An Oilpot

Spent an afternoon at Antoinette with Ame and eveeleva. I came from lunch and wasn't at all hungry. The 2 girls were famished and ordered food. None of us have tried this cafe; while we knew that its desserts weren't too bad, we weren't too sure about the food.

The girls considered its all-day breakfast menu of eggs, with something truffle somewhere. But we decided this wouldn't be a place for eggs. eveeleva's smoked salmon crêpe looked good. I frowned at Ame's ham and cheese baguette that was supposed to come with French butter. The menu doesn't state what sort of French butter. The bread was served with butter already melted on it; the slices of prosciutto and emmental were spread out on the side. It shouldn't be done this way. Anyway, Ame said it was kinda tasty still.

Antoinette tries (operative word here) to emit the Parisian vibe with its armchairs and wall paintings, but this branch at Mandarin Gallery is so tiny. The low ceiling makes me feel a tad claustrophobic. The thing I can't stand- the smells from the kitchen. ARRRGGGH. The exhaust and ventilation aren't done well. It's practically non-existent. If I'm across the aisle from the shopfront, I could smell the stale stench of grease, especially at lunch hour. Sitting there, the smells assaulted the nose till it was quite unbearable. They overpowered the fragrance of the tea. After we left, my hair stank faintly.

I couldn't resist the strawberry shortcake. It looked light and fluffy. It was quite tantalizing. Not too sweet. Fresh cream was luscious. Nice. The girls ordered the signature Antoinette three-layer chocolate cake tinged with earl grey and had a bubble of raspberry coulis to be poked at and dripped over the cake.

I forgot to take a photo of the earl grey macaron which eveeleva loved. It was just one that came on a cute little plate. When the chocolate cake was placed on the table, the girls insisted many photos of the cake to be taken because it was very pretty and delicious. Heh. They loved it. It was very easily polished off between them. They've got the sweet tooth.

After tea, there was still time. We didn't want to split for our next appointments just yet. None of us fancied strolling through the malls. So off we went for a session of foot massage. Good laugh, good talk, good times. I always enjoy our outings. These girls make me feel alive. It was a rare afternoon spent together. Me likey.

The Rain Didn't Matter

Little India is just one of those places that I never tire of checking out. The friends and I are probably the rare few Singaporeans who'll never mind braving it on a Sunday night for dinner. :)

Made a lunch date with notabilia. She took me to the franchise of the noted Mumbai vegetarian restaurant Kailash Parbat at the ground floor of Hotel Grand Chancellor at Belilios Road.

The vegetable pulao was a tad sad and wet. The rest of the food was pretty good. I really liked that corn. They must have improved it since the last few reviews. Then again, diners' experiences always differ. I was happy with mine. The tags on the buffet trays listed exactly what each item was, with no further description. notabilia took one look at my piled-up plate and decided I could decipher what the food items were, on my own. Heheheh.

It was a day of fickle weather. It was like a 24-hour display of tantrums. It rained and shone, rained and shone, and rained and shone. We didn't care. It matched our schedules of hopping in and out of buildings. It somehow cooled the late afternoon, enough for us to walk a fair bit before hopping on a bus. There, everything I stuffed into the stomach would have been half digested.

The woman has adapted very well to the city's humidity. She walks ALOT. Well, I walk loads too, in another city with a kinder climate. But here in Singapore, I melt within 1km under the blazing sun. I believe the woman has walked 5km home from dinner one time, and probably does that quite regularly. Very impressive.

Luncheon Was Fruitful

Against better judgment, I attended a luncheon-gala thingy with the girlfriends. I didn't do it out of boredom or curiosity. I went along simply because there might be a possible partnership for the side projects.

Quite fun to take a look at the fashion choices and labels around the room. Lots of colors swirled about and ALOT of gaudy bags. We fit the theme of ostentatious-ness too. Muahahhahaha. And the hair. OMG, the HAIR. What's with big hair and big curls??!!! Well, at least I bothered to blow dry mine instead of leaving it wet to dry in the humidity. Not fussed about going to the hair salon to prep for any sort of event. I'm really not a chiffon-floral-flouncy-frills sort of girl. The best I could do, was to don a sombre black dress in a lighter fabric of silk with asymmetrical shoulder details.

Surprisingly, the 4-course meal was more than adequately edible. As tentative pokes at the food began, the nibbles soon gave way to actual eating. It was really quite delicious. Instead of fish or seafood, I opted for a vegetarian portion. I'm glad the kitchen didn't give me just strings or globs of vegetables piled up in a terrine or something similar. They attempted a good measure of creativity in the food.

I didn't know half the guests. Never mind, as long as the girlfriends do, they can introduce me if the situation calls for it. Otherwise, I do fine working the room on my own. I'm just keen to know your first name, and mention something about the floral arrangement on the table to open the conversation, and let's see how it goes from here. The faux pas in this setting, would be to ask the other, "So what do you do?"

In many ways, networking is unavoidable as a socioeconomic activity. Am glad that I'm not in the business of public fundraising. Otherwise, I'd have no choice but to do the business tango. Many enjoy the power thrill, some thrive on it, but I'm not an adroit practitioner. It isn't a way of life I welcome.

Did I leave the luncheon with possible partnership opportunities sussed out? Yes. Everyone offers an equal opportunity, in that sense. Since I'm in the fortunate position of being able to choose who I want to work with, I've managed to take stock of who I could possibly work with in this room, based on a superficial yardstick of shared values in a certain sector. This meant, the 2 hours spent schmoozing had been rather useful.

Lobsters & Movies

We called to order, a lobster dinner. Our tiny flat won't be able to take the group. One couple generously provided their dining room and expansive kitchen (equipped with fancy industrial gadgets and toys) for this much-anticipated get-together.

I suppose this is our way of celebrating Mid-Autuman Festival, but without walking about with lanterns or eating mooncakes with good tea. We did ask, but no one's exactly keen on that. So we kept the 'celebrations' our style.

There was an intense debate and in the end, everyone passed on the Alaskan crabs. There were freshly specially flown Maine lobsters, one for each guest, and an extra tail. Not proud of the fact that we probably decimated a pod. Damn, they were tasty. We have separate preferences on how we'd like to ingest the crustacean, and the final result- the lobsters were spectacularly done to our specifications. To freshen the tastebuds, there were nibbles of brussels sprouts, artichoke hearts, witlof, pasta and coleslaw. Strangely, chilled yuzu sorbet went well to round up the white meat.

Bottles of the gorgeous Cristal Brut 2004 accompanied the fine meal. A beautiful complement. I took only 2 glasses and declined more. Still on a casual alcohol ban for the now. After dinner, we settled into the couches for good old movie night. We had earlier declared not have anything cerebral! Something light! Again, by unanimous choice, 2 movies were picked- 'Cold Souls' and 'Hanna'.

'Cold Souls' has every potential to go down as a crap B-grade movie. Extracting souls, and having mules transport these souls?! Com'mon now. However, Sophie Barthes did a really good job with it. It's emotive, just a little reflective and seriously funny. Playing himself, Paul Giamatti is absolutely endearing.

We couldn't wait to watch 'Hanna'! It's absolutely wicked. Nothing new with the storyline. It doesn't pretend to be a deeply reflective movie. The slow parts are thankfully not too frequent. It gives me all the gore and action as promised. I love it!!! Never mind the startling fact that a teenage girl is a trained killer. Suspend all ethical and humane notions please. None of us missed the symbolism of the deer at the start and at the end.

It's good to have the evening with the friends. We reminisce, we remember. But we never forget that we live in the now for no regrets. There're many ways of saying it. So many have said it, but nothing like how it's said, flatly- "Carpe diem."

No One Is Indispensable Indefinitely

This has never been a genre I'd linger at the bookshelf. It's pure bias, I do confess. The man was persistent in getting me to read it. He insisted that it was good. I brushed him off with a "Your type of good. Not mine." Still he said it was so brilliant that I should read it. Seriously. Okay... Seth Godin's 'Linchpin : Are You Indispensable'.

Sure, Seth Godin is inspiring entrepreneur. He makes things happen and through his books, he tries to teach you to make your products remarkable and spread powerful ideas. But I'm not interested in being an entrepreneur. I've never wanted to create anything. I'm quite happy to participate, or be a consumer. Clearly, I'm not meant to appreciate any sort of marketing or even try to market anything. I'd fail so miserably.

Since this book touches on choice and linchpins as "essential building blocks of a great organization......who can walk into chaos and create order" (meaning...the mavericks), I'd have a browse. The book also talks about thinking of choices, of buying into a climate of fear within the rigid system or to chart one's own path and create value as one would. Sure. I want to know who on earth is indispensable to an organization in this day and age. With a great deal of skepticism, I flipped to the first page.

"You want your employees to be indispensable. // Really? After all, if they're the linchpins, you have to treat them better. Pay them fairly. You won't be able to quickly fire them for any reason, knowing how easy they will be to replace with all those folks lining up at the door. The linchpin represents a threat to the orderly execution of your agenda, because the linchpin is necessary. The linchpin has power! // No one is irreplaceable, of course, because over time, someone can be trained to fill the shoes of your linchpin employee. But right now, knowing you have to depend on someone is a scary feeling. Not only does he have power, but he might leave you hanging. This isn't what you were taught in school."

The writing is easy, as though one is carrying on a conversation with the author. But hey, this is his skill. It welcomes you into the book as though you'd soft step through the doors to a one-day conference on this topic. The structure presents the idea flow in a rather structured manner across the various ideas thrown up in the content. There're astute observations and good examples proffered. It's an easy...management textbook published in layman language with contemporary bells and whistles. A version that's easier to digest. It'd appeal to readers with a short-attention span and whose approach to management styles could be termed as the 'new-wave', and who require to have the information presented to them in such a bite-size format.

I accorded this book all of 30 minutes, and endured through certain chapters. The concepts aren't going to get drilled into this brain. I get it, but I don't geddit. I'm the wrong type of reader who refuses to understand the smashing revelations that the book may impart.