学水质

One another aspect about brewing tea, is to understand water and its properties, in relation to its interaction with the liquid in a cup. Water, isn't just water. Water taste very different, and I'm already particular even as to what labels of still mineral water a restaurant offers. In tea brewing, the only way to totally get the theories, is to brew it myself, sip the flavors, and learn.

Tea masters and purists believe in using 'pure' water. This simply translates to water with a pH value of 7. How one could source that, it entirely depends on where you live, and whether a well, creek or supermarket is the most convenient. In Singapore, we're lucky. Our tap water flits between a pH value of 7 to 9, and possesses a low sodium content, which works fine. Once filtered through say, a Brita jug or something to cut out the chlorine and fluoride, this water is good enough to brew tea with.

At the same time, I began using the ceramic scoop with a ceramic kettle in order to understand how water quality might be subtly altered by additional filtering through clay (that is crystalline) before it ends up in the cup to be called tea. I had to also understand how the minerals in heated water react to the way (gentle or rough) I scooped it out. Do you remember watching John Wu's 'Red Cliff' where there's a scene of Xiao Qiao making tea for Cao Cao? (片段为'小乔煮水'。) When I first watched that, I was like..."Does water really matter? Or it was time to slip in eye candy?" Now I know. It does. Water.

I was lucky to be able to partner a senior in class to experiment. She's really good at brewing tea, and understands how water and leaves interact. She's also curious about the properties of water from different regions. Not that she hasn't tried out different types of water. After all, she's got years ahead of me. But it was great to do a concerted, side by side tasting sessions with different teas in a hopefully methodical process these two weeks. The one thing I'm a little perturbed about, was the temperature used to brew each tea. My tea teacher isn't an advocate of water thermometers or a regimented scientific process. She approaches the art of tea from a slightly more artistic and emotional angle. Two persons, no water thermometer, we could only gauge with bare hands and experience. Gaaah. That would be a big factor in determining the final taste of a tea.

However, after tasting out different brews, imh(amateur)o, using water from the mountains work best with white, green and yellow tea. Especially yellow tea. I've been achieving the sweetest brews of yellow with Scottish water from the highlands. (Think Glenlivet Speyside. In Singapore, get a bottle from Glen Brae at Marks & Spencer.) Hurhurhur. It's not very different from whisky when I think about having it on the rocks! Water already 'opens up' and mitigates cask strength whisky. Ice might mask or heighten briny flavors. The nose and taste of single malts and craft bourbons change according to what sort of water dumped in. Evian, is too salty. In comparison, I'm not very fond of using Volvic or Fiji because the taste tests have proven that those produce a slightly less 'sweet' tea, but fairly neutral in whisky. Sometimes, I might be better off using filtered tap water, especially in Singapore.

Immigrants Gastrobar

[Immigrants has closed as of 31 August 2015]

Finally made our way to Immigrants Gastrobar for a taste of familiar flavors just before the last order for food at 10pm. We were over at the friends' house which was not a far walk to the bar. Cool enough night. So we did just that. Took an easy 15-minute walk that we knew would be appreciated on the way back, after stuffing our faces full of food and beer.

I was that anchovy pasta girl. Man, I ate it at least thrice a week. It was that addictive. However, there isn't any pasta on this new menu at Immigrants. Chef Damian D'Silva is sticking strictly to his unique fusion of Eurasian and Peranakan cuisine. I've missed his food. The quality of ingredients is excellent, and one can tell that the food has been painstakingly prepared. Portions are small, even by my standards, but are great for sharing.

The table had sambal goreng that held no beancurd, but had chicken liver and gizzards, and spices. I gently refused the cutlets of pork and potato, and stuck to squid bombs. Those were lethal man. The chillies were awesome! Spicy to the max. Packed a giant punch. Best with steamed white rice, except they don't serve it. Strange. They really ought to reconsider that, even if they want to stick to the concept of a tapas bar. Most dishes are fiery. Nothing better than spices and chilli on a plate of beautifully steamed white rice. Washing it down with beer wouldn't be a good idea unless your stomach wouldn't rebel. The alcohol list is fabulous. Make your way slowly through it.

Considering that it's a bar in Joo Chiat, I shouldn't be surprised that the cute female servers were clad in uniforms of the tightest tops and shortest skirts. Well. Anyway. The one thing I really didn't like, eating off a small deep tin bowl. It was tiny, and cumbersome. The cutlery didn't fit into the utensils. Annoying. It would have been much better if they give the guests wide tin plates instead.

It's got really limited menu for vegetarians. There're only two edible items- a grilled stuffed beancurd or widely known as 'tau kwa pau' and a local salad. Not ideal. I haven't asked Chef Damian if meats are used in the sauces, especially in the sambal buah keluak fried rice. Stick to the beer for calories. Plenty of good beers. The grilled seafood otak was pungently beautiful. That S$20 sambal buah keluak fried rice, pictured below, by the way, is to die for.

No Choice But To Plod On

Since I've gone and done the dumb thing of beginning the apocalypse with Book One, I've no choice but to strive on with protagonist Amy Harper Bellafonte in Book Two of The Passage by Justin Cronin- 'The Twelve'. But she doesn't always appear in each chapter, which is fine by me.

Both books so far, play out like a television script. One more to go. Oh well. (Read reviews here, here, here, here, here and here.) Thank goodness it's at least midway through. Now I'll just have to grit my teeth for the final delivery in this trilogy in 2014 when I would have forgotten just about everything. DAMMIT.

The meaning of the 12 isn't lost (i.e. 12 Apostles) on the readers. Bit of an irony actually, when the 12 death-row inmates have thrown open the doors of Apocalypse and infected all. As the book in the middle, it begins in Texas five years after the Apocalypse, heads back to Denver Year Zero, spans 100 years and rises to expectations by patching up holes in the plot, doing significantly more character development, bringing back the super soldier Lieutenant Alicia Donadio - Alicia of Blades, as the secret weapon, while expecting readers to also suspend all disbelief in certain practical aspects, since this is after all, an apocalyptic scenario. Gloriously depressing. All these move the story along slowly towards an unknown ending.

I want to talk about this more. But the friends will kill me if I do. They're either in the middle of the book or yet to start. So what I'll say here is, regardless of how many names and characters walk through these two books, I only care about Amy (ermm...yes, she's quite old and eternally youthful), Peter and Alicia 'Lish'. The rest don't matter. Here's the teaser for those of you who haven't read it. There's an epilogue to it titled 'The Golden Hour'. There's a printed quote from Shakespeare's Sonnet 109 which reads, "As easy might I from myself depart / As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie./ That is my home of love."

Her pack was lying in the culvert. She had no gun, but the bandoliers were there, blades tucked into their sheaths. She pulled the leather straps over her chest and cinched them tight to her frame. She climbed on Soldier's naked back and clicked her tongue, turning him east. 

Come to me, Alicia. Come to me come to me come to me... 

You're damn right I will, she thought. Leaning forward, his great mane filling her hands, she heeled Soldier to a trot, then a canter, and finally a gallop, wild through the snow. 

You bastard. Here I come.

Wrapped Up: da:ns festival 2012

Strode into more free and ticketed shows at Esplanade's da:ns festival and happily concluded two lovely weeks with a big performance that held major wow factor- 'TeZukA'.

Am glad to have a chance to catch up with the various friends who came by to watch the shows, and also said hello to new acquaintances. Had a lot of fun taking them around Singapore and chilling out at the various cafes and restaurants.

'Paris 1994/Gallery' by The Dietrich Group (Canada)

I could watch shows alone, but this wouldn't be one of them. Was glad that I had the friends for company. I'm not hot about the theme of the dance. (It's strictly personal.) But I wanted to see Darryl A Hoskins' choreography. Heard so much about it. That meant I had to sit through the intimate 'Paris 1994/Gallery' no matter how. Let's put Paris aside. It's not my favorite city in France. I avoid going through CDG Airport and Paris if I could help it. It's the part about remembering past relationships that I'm strongly inimical about.

I concentrated on lighting design, movements and the dancers. Although I wasn't drawn into their world, I enjoyed the chemistry and charisma exuded. Time, space and perception of memory blended into the show and projected themselves on the audience. The dancers were totally convincing, reaching deep into their emotions to pull them out into the fluid stretches and powerful lunges. There was a maturity about the dancers that didn't torture me too much in trying to relate to the themes.

'Aomori Project: Of Landscapes Remembered' by Sioned Huws (UK)

Unfamiliar with Sioned Huws' works, I googled a fair bit for background knowledge. This was a refreshing performance. Loved the musicians, their traditional instruments and beats that accompanied the dance. I was immensely relieved that this wasn't done to the rhythm of a nail gun fired to create wall art with planks.

This must be the first time I see dancers spend so much time lying their their backs twirling around. It was a tad dizzying, along with the hair flips and repetition of movements. Strained to catch the teodori (Okinawa hand dance) influences. Had to firmly keep in mind Sioned Huws' experiences of the cold winter months in Aomori Prefecture in order to relate to what I was seeing ermmm...on the floor. The music and minyo singer helped to draw me into that stark world.



'TeZukA' by Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui (Belgium)

Initially, I was really disappointed because I thought the timings wouldn't permit me to catch it. It was only much later when I took a look at the tickets and realized that the Sunday show was at 5pm. PERFECT. I could make it after all! Excitedly texted the girlfriend for a date at the Theatre.

The score is composed by Nitin Sawhney. That's the biggest attraction for me, next to the part about anime. Citing the show as a "multimedia homage to Osamu Tezuka", I was so curious about how the entire performance would pan out. It sounded like an amalgamation of every Japanese art discipline. I'm not a fan of Osamu Tezuka though. (Sorry, Astro Boy.) I've flipped through his works, enjoyed 'Metropolis' in drawings and on film, understood a little about his motivation, and nothing more.

We opted for seats right at the front because we knew it wasn't going to be just dancing. Curious about which selected pieces of video art from Taiki Ueda, and live calligraphy by Tosui Suzuki, and individual brushes wielded by the dancers. I wasn't sure if my attention would be held by Belgian choreographer Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui's movements which seemed like the backdrop instead. But in the end, I was enthralled, rooted to my seat, in awe of the vision of the choreographer. Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui is obviously a huge fan of Osamu Tezuka's works. This performance paid great homage to the god of manga in the treatment and interpretation of a summary of all his works, themes and beliefs.

The elements of 'Sutra' were also present in the dance movements of 'TeZukA'. I'm very much more impressed by this latest creation though. The dancing, was not second to the awesome multimedia presented. I enjoyed the musicians on stage. Tsubasa Hori was really good on the traditional drums taiko, and from the zither family, the koto. She made the percussion come alive. The singing, and the recitation all, (I spied Astro Boy sing!) added many dimensions to what would have been just dancing on stage. Although at times, I had to filter out where to direct the attention to because there were so many things happening on stage simultaneously.

James Morrison, The Trumpeter and Others

Was so out of it that when I said yes to the friend's invite to a concert, I didn't read the details save for time and venue. A day earlier, it suddenly hit me that we were going to watch this James Morrison on the horn and the trumpet instead of that James Morrison on the guitar and vocals. ROTFL. She did say jazz, and I completely missed that.

For about 15 minutes in confusion, I wondered why he would be playing on 27th at Yong Siew Toh Conservatory Concert Hall when he had already played at Esplanade Concert Hall three weeks ago on the 2nd! Had to retrieve the email to do some googling. Also, the girlfriend didn't strike me as the kind who would watch this James Morrison. :P Anyway, this wasn't a camera-sort of gig. No nazi ushers lurked, but it would be bad form to sneak a photo. I've been well trained by Esplanade. The dance performances have been super nazi about locking up cameras outside of the venues, so I've consciously left the camera at home for these two weeks and stuck with crap quality phone photos.

Thoroughly enjoyed James Morrison's delightful performance. He effortlessly toggled between the favored trumpet, the trombone, the piccolo trumpet and the saxophone. He had 13 musicians (not travelling with him. A brass ensemble from Brass Acts and Sultan Jazz) to back him up. Full sounds on trumpets, horn, trombones, tuba, a guitar, double bass and drums. They were rather messy with the opening piece 'All of Me', but soon found groove by the third piece 'Masterplan'. Pleasantly surprised that he would attempt it, and not that impressed when he rehashed old jokes, which, well, did inspire the writing of the piece. Somehow, while he was brilliant on the trumpet, the band did nothing for this piece, which is probably my favorite of all eight songs tonight. 'Fugue II' was well played. Very Bach indeed. The band and James Morrison showed most chemistry and coherence in doing a lively 'On The Edge', and later, a reprise of it for the encore.

In this 2010 clip below, he played 'Autumn Leaves', one of my all-time songs of nostalgia.

安徽绿茶太平猴魁

One of the biggest tea leaves I've seen would have to belong to a green tea from Taiping County in Anhui province of China- 'Tai Ping Hou Kui' (安徽太平猴 魁). The name of the tea literally translates into 'peaceful monkey leader'. Okay. Not very poetic. Green tea doesn't have to come in a powder form, or tiny buds. It all depends on the variety of the tea plants/bushes. Green tea (like white and yellow tea) is non-fermented and will ferment slowly when exposed to air. So it's important to place it in a fridge once you purchase a packet.

At class, I tried out two batches of tea leaves from different sources. One seemed rougher, and the other appeared more delicate. In these differences, even from the dry leaves, the quality is discernible as well. Always, the proof is in the taste test, and wet leaves.

There're many ways of brewing tea. Sometimes, a lid isn't necessary. For the batch of rougher leaves (which were the ones I was really curious about), I decided to use a yellow-Zisha-clay teapot to steep and bring out all its flavors thoroughly, and to cut out all eeky stuff. For the other batch, since I knew it to be decent, I simply pared it down to a simple bowl for maximum efficiency. The leaves were so huge that I needn't worry about it slipping into the cups.

Upon tasting, it was clear which was the better batch. The first sip, the middle and the aftertaste. Distinguishable notes of quality spread across the tastebuds. The delicate-looking ones produced a more complex brew and its bitter-sweet tang lasted four brews.

Colorful Desserts

A really decent new deli replaced my usual. I buy loaves of bread from a couple of bakeries and regularly bought loaves from this old deli. Soon, I'll have to try the loaves at the new replacement. At least they still offer scones for takeaway, provided that I order them a day in advance. Like the old deli, they don't display the yummy scones on the shelves. That'll be fine. For now, I'll get its sweets and pastries. 'Dolcetto' was all cheery and bright this morning when I hopped over to tapau stuff to visit the girlfriend who was ill at home.

Big plus point in that the deli opens at 8am. Fits my schedule on most days. Today, I picked out a couple of attractive pieces to fill a box. There were macarons too. Looked tantalizing on the shelves. But nobody liked it, so didn't need to get them. They asked if I needed coffee. Umm...no. Not exactly wanting to try its coffee. :P Brought the box of colorful sweets over to cheer up the girlfriend, with a few choices for the parents too. Poor thing could barely croak. She had completely lost her voice, and was groggy from meds and fever. But she was up for some company for a quick bit. I was most disapproving that she turned on the work laptop. Tsk. Obviously sick, and obliged to put in the work hours to meet deadlines.

Out of the whole box, she could have a bite of either the lemon tart or the fig cake much later in the afternoon if she felt better after more meds and a nap. Her throat and persistent cough wouldn't permit her to have any sort of rich chocolate, nuts and definitely no ice-cream of any sort. Girl's been having porridge for meals for three days. :(

Red-ish

We were on our merry way to Esplanade when we passed by the push carts in a mall that were selling all sort of random stuff like phone cases and clothes. The girlfriend stopped at one to browse, and picked out two dresses that she wanted to buy. She had to, since she had no more clothes in her empty suitcase. Hahahaha. She came with just 2 sets of clothes and some toiletries, for a 7-day stay.

Then she turned to me. I was just standing in an innocuous corner randomly staring at passers-by. To my horror, she thrust a red leaf-stripe-ish dress into my hands. "Enough, you wear too much black," the girlfriend said. "Hurry up and get this so that we can all get a discount." I looked at her intended buys and the red dress, and grimaced. They looked WEIRD. Like things that I don't usually wear. I shrugged. I don't need clothes. Did the girlfriend listen? Of course not. She bought it for me anyway. I think many girlfriends own a version of this dress too, in different color combinations.

What do I do? Wear it the very next day lor. What do I know? Save for the cheap elastic band, the polyester-whatever thingy (can't even call it fabric) fell fine around the calves. What a surprise. Don't really care that it's dowdy, unflattering and pile on the pounds to the frame. I'm comfortable. Thin, the S$20-dress is great for hot weather and traipsing around. The only sort of shoes I'd match this with, is a pair of flip flops. Nothing else. Except I can't get used to the look, which is really hmmm...bright.

The 2011 Pen / O.Henry Prize Stories

The man has succumbed, and bought himself a Kindle app on the Apple gadgets. DUHH. Just use the Kindle lah. Anyway, that's mine, and I'm not sharing.

For some reason, single short stories available for download on Amazon keep jumping out. The man loves to download those. A hectic schedule means that he can take up to 2 weeks to finish a novel. But thumbing through short stories mean that he can finish it in a night easily. I'm not so keen on them just yet. Anyway, I could steal it off one of his gadgets when he isn't using them. Ha.

Been attracted to the contemporary short stories in a hard copy. Not really a fan of modern fiction, but I'll strive on, just to see what people are talking about these days. A recent flip was 'The 2011 Pen/O.Henry Prize Stories', edited by Laura Furman. The book holds 20 short stories by shortlisted writers, an introduction by Laura Furman, an essay by the three Jurors (A.M. Homes, Manuel Muñoz and Christine Schutt) on their favorites, and the writers' brief thoughts on their work. A thoroughly relishable read. More like a journal that tells me the hows and the whys that decide the flow and ebb of each story.

Honestly, all the stories are good. Short often means that the reader is able to enjoy a concise narrative, a brevity of thoughts and to-the-point without beating around the bush too much. The Jurors and editor have kept it simple and true to its form of a precise length, and meaning conveyed in a single thought or scene. Of course character development may be a tad wanting, but that's not an impediment to the overall message. I give you three personal favorites.

Lily Tuck's 'Ice' writes of married-for-forty-years Maud and Peter's travel on the Caledonia Star to the Antarctic. The author wanted to "try to describe how this strange and vaguely hostile environment might affect a long-married couple." A cruise is something I've sworn off, after three not-very-pleasant experiences on it over three continents. While I'm not keen on watching movies about it like the 'Titanic', unless it's got a B-grade sea monster toppling the cruise ship, I'm not averse to reading stories set on cruises.

Standing on deck next to her husband, Maud takes it for a good omen - the ship will not founder, they will not get seasick, they will survive the journey, their marriage more or less still intact. 

Also, Maud spots her first whale, another omen. She spots two.

Chris Adrian wanted to write stories that imagined how the world would be like in fifteen years. He took the ex's dog with him and spent days in Nantucket, but didn't begin any writing till months after. He "threw out five or six drafts about Nantucket sinking into the ocean or being overwhelmed by intelligent shoes before [he] finally discovered what the story was about - [him], the ex, and the dog." Thus 'The Black Square' was written, about Henry and a black Lab named Hobart (borrowed from Bobby).

"That's stupid," the girl said. She was standing close enough that Henry could see her eyes through the sunglasses, and tell that she was staring directly into his face. 

"So are you," he said. It was one of the advantages of his present state of mind, and one of the gifts of the black square, that he could say things like this now, in part because all his decisions had become essentially without consequence. He wasn't trying to be mean. It was just that there wasn't any reason anymore not to say the first thing that came into his mind. 

The little girl didn't cry. She managed to look very serious, even in the ridiculously oversize sunglasses, biting on her lower lip while she petted the dog. "No," she said finally, "I'm not. You are. You are the stupidest." Then she walked away, calmly, back to her mother.

Matthew Neill Null's 'Something You Can't Live Without'. Almost a classic drummer tale, of the traveling salesman, in this case, Cartwright during the Reconstruction era as he tried to somehow make a big sale, and ended up getting himself killed. It also seemed appropriate somewhat, for me to be giggling at the fate of the poor salesman by the time I got to the last few paragraphs of the story, which incidentally, is the last story in the compilation.

When the next harvest came, they would have killed Cartwright all over again. The Miracle Plow had failed to increase their yield by any measure whatsoever, no better than the one it replaced. When Cartwright's replacement came down the road three years later, they told him so. He urged on his horses with a grim flick of the traces.

Begun: da:ns festival 2012

The initial flip through the earlier announced programme didn't excite me very much. But as the friends flew in one by one, and asked me which ones I would be watching, I began to feel a tingle of interest. Peer pressure. Totally. Still, there're fewer shows that I'll be watching compared to last year's.

Esplanade's da:ns festival 2012. In addition to the ticketed programmes, the Rasas showcasing the rich dance heritage of Asia interest me. Checked off the timings and made a note to hit Esplanade earlier before whatever main shows I would be catching in order to also fit in a free programme or two from the Rasas at various spots dotting the performance venue. The costumes are so jewelled, intricate, and frankly, stunning under the spotlights. Disappointed that the rains cancelled 2 sets of 'Ramakien' (the Thai version of the Ramayana) by Nang Yai (shadow puppets) Players from Wat Ban Don. The rains paused, and the last show at 9.15pm went on, luckily, but too bad I was at another performance.

Festival Commission: 'Silences We Are Familiar With: An Ode To Love' by Kuik Swee Boon and Bani Haykal with T.H.E Dance Company (Singapore)

I chose to begin the week with festival commission, 'Silences We Are Familiar With: An Ode To Love'. The dancers from The Human Expression Dance Company were fairly strong. Modern dance requires the dancers to also be actors. And they did that through voice and facial expressions. Loved the live music composed by Bani Haykal. The music, very obviously, wasn't just an accompaniment to the dancers. It was also the narrative and the background to the point of the dance, of which I would have been lost without it.

The red strings pulled out across the stage towards the end were pretty dramatic, and remained there till the ending. Frankly, those helped me put the dance into perspective. In a way, this being an Asian production, the red strings would mean so much- Asian legends often speak of the red strings tied to two people in love, or more, and these are the invisible threads of fate, destiny and whatnots.

The post-show dialogue boggled my mind a little. It was said that there were many layers to the dance. However, I feel that it wasn't that multi-layered, and only eros love had been explored. Well, it was the premiere and I would only watch this once. But I guess this is what I, as a member of the audience walk away with after the show.

'Tobari- As if in an inexhaustible flux' by Sankai Juku (Japan)

The dance of darkness, butoh, frankly, can be slow, and I'm not a very good member of the audience at sitting through it. All I know is, while this dance form is performed rather widely outside of Japan, it doesn't reach the same level of popularity in Japan. Mostly, butoh in Japan is performed without an audience. However, the friends insisted. "Ushio Amagatsu is doing a solo. This might be the last time you'll ever see such grace." Right. He's already 63 years old.

At one juncture during the performance, I sat very still, and thought about tea. Those precise movements in the discipline of chadō aren't unlike the delicate to-the-finger-tip movements I was seeing on stage. The same sort of patience and inner zen required from the practitioner and the observer. Ahhh... The music kinda faded out as I concentrated on the dancers. It was secondary, I thought. There was something about the traditional white painted bodies, faces and ethereal expressions set against a constellation of stars. (View an excerpt here.) The movements were deliberate, paced and stately. True to its history, one is not able to see a set of movements as belonging to any specific genre of dance, except to be definable within the realm of butoh.

Don't know, but butoh performances I've seen overseas can be done on the street, by non-Japanese performers, and some also marry other traditional dance influences, and can be completely unlike Sankai Juku's version. Butoh can also be street art, isn't it? That was a topic of intense conversation at supper. We went down to Haji Lane for a street party hosted by Going Om, and laughingly commented that butoh could be transplanted here too.

Yhingthai Palace Restaurant

Now that Yhingthai Palace Restaurant is back on my radar, I've hopped in thrice, and it has won me over completely when it comes to choosing a restaurant for Thai food. Not overly pretentious, I could turn up there in flip flops too. Hurrah. The chefs are good, and it's a restaurant instead of a tiny stall. Nothing wrong with a tiny stall, but sometimes, I want a different style of cooking, non-plastic plates, and a different ambience when it comes to satisfying a craving for Thai spices. This is one restaurant I'll zoom to for now.

Make reservations. The restaurant seems to be always packed, and the servers are always rushing around. But the food comes fast. The kitchen is generous with the accompanying sauces and condiments. They offered a sauce with each dish. Perfect. They didn't mind that we asked for more of the sauces. Love the spices that go great with everything, but don't burn the tastebuds numb.

A table of humans meant that we could order many many items on the menu. So we did. The dishes were excellent. While prices aren't as friendly as Orchard Towers, it's not ridiculously expensive. The menu doesn't claim to serve royal Thai cuisine. It offers familiar favorites. It serves a great phad thai, and I found a wonderful version of winged bean salad (ยำถั่วพู) here. The kitchen can whip this up without meat or seafood and make it vegetarian. All these yummy food. Thrice, the steamed fish had been nicely done. Impressive. However, I'll return again and again for its tom yam seafood clear soup (ต้มยำทะเลน้ำใส). I've had two bowls of soup on each visit so far. Heeeee.

A Happy Third Indeed

Morning came, and I woke up to many beeps from the phone. The gist of the friends' texts was something to the effect of, "Happy Anniversary!" Bleary-eyed, I was more like...WTF. Then I remembered. Jumping cows and moons! I forgot the date. Clearly, I bought nothing, planned zilch, and not feeling the least mortified.

The man whooshed into the room, freshly grouchy from a work conference call at an unearthly hour. "Happy Anniversary!" He chirped. Point to him. However, I made an effort to put on the wedding band and a solitaire the man had bought early in the relationship. The man, is more conscientious about wearing his wedding band than I am. Between tea and piano classes, changing adult diapers, wielding mops and brooms, pilates and parkour, the rings are honestly pesky. I've conveniently left the rings in the drawer for months now, wearing them out only on the weekends if I remember. :P Anyway, we've made a pact not to mark this date or purchase presents in its honor. So we went about the day in the most typical of ways.

Errands, classes and work for us. I had a most spontaneous lunch date with a darling girlfriend who was flying off in the evening to a glorious vacation. The man went out for a buddy's birthday lunch. In the evening, we appeared at the bar for a nip of whisky and randomly met half the world there, with nobody having made any sort of prior arrangements. Everybody adjourned for an impromptu, friggin spicy delicious dinner at Yhingthai Palace Restaurant. 

And this is how it shall be if the fates will have it so. We'll define this marriage on our terms. The 18th day of every October to be mundane, spent with friends, serendipity and much laughter.

Steering Bubbles Away From Techno Beats

Lunch date. Big hugs for Corsage, and a little hug for Bubbles who told me that "It's been a while since I hung out with you, Aunty Imp. This is awesome". A tiny squeeze for little Bun. She didn't particularly care about me. She took her cue from the sister. She saw that the sister was comfortable with me, and decided to lie quietly and give me a grin every now and then.

Unfortunately, Bubbles associates me with the iPad. SIGH. Same thing today. At some point, she asked to play her favorite games, and to get onto Youtube to watch a Sesame Street video. She doesn't really know the titles of the videos, but she knows the key developments, and I'm expected to know them, and pull up whatever she's referring. OKAAAY. It's hard work!

On the video page, she scrolled up and down to decide which to watch. Then her finger slid to 'Katy Perry sings "Hot N Cold" with Elmo'. I was like...noonoooo...baby...that's a bad song. She was all "Why? Why? Why?" and proceeded to click it anyway.

Okay, note to self, don't tell a kid that something's bad. They'll just go ahead to do it. I, of all people, should know that. After 45 seconds, she swiped it off and returned to the main menu. She nodded, "It's a bad song." Hahahaha. I couldn't help feeling triumphant. Those techno beats were really irritating. Well done, girl. You're going to have great taste in music.

About Vampires, Of Course

In Terri Windling & Ellen Datlow's clear summary of vampire lore and evolution in the world of novels in the Introduction to 'Teeth - Vampire Tales', there's a line that read "Many of you reading this book will be too young to remember when Buffy debuted, so you'll have to trust us when we say that nothing quite like it had existed before."

WELL. EXCUSE ME, I KNOW BUFFY VERY WELL, ALL SEVEN SEASONS OF IT. Including her terrible sense of fashion, and some great fanfiction. It did make me wonder if I should stop reading at this point. Reading this book out in public is a tad embarrassing. The cover is extremely unflattering. I could feel eyes zooming in on the cover, and thoughts of some going "OMG, she's reading one of those trashy vampire tales." Ah well. You know I'm not into glittering vampires and the likes of that category of the undead. Same thing for tv. Not 'Vampire Diaries', but 'True Blood', but give me 'Underworld' anytime. Sure, Buffy bound many to Joss Whedon, but it's Firefly that made me a fan. Okay, I digress. Anyway, Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling have edited other anthologies that are quite good. So I read 'Teeth' based on that. Also, the familiar writers of these short YA vampire tales prompted me to strive on.

The first story was already rather funny. Genevieve Valentine's 'Things To Know About Being Dead' touches on the concept of a Chinese vampire, a 'jiang shi' who was kinda dead, then jolted back to life and looked normal. Suyin could walk in the winter sun, and was fed a mug of warm human blood by her grandmother, till the old lady died of natural causes. I was giggling because the undead still had to grapple with graduating from high school and considerations of college. "23. It's just as weird as being alive. You figure it out as you go." Sure.

Yes, yes, Neil Gaiman's name's in the book. He contributes a poem 'Bloody Sunrise' that doesn't hold any punctuation. In his typical fashion, the poem might or might not deal with the topic; his words, when strung together, can mean just about anything.

Every night I put on my smartest threads
and I go into the town
and I don't even look dead

Every night I smile and I say hi
and no one ever smiles back
and if I could I'd just die

Remember, this is YA. Young adult fiction. It's most refreshing how they re-work the concept of the vampyre and Dracula. There's also this little bit in all the stories that deals with growing pains, and I end up grinning at teenage angst. A lot of eye-rolling mostly. Some stories can be found here for now, like Jeffrey Ford's 'Sit The Dead' which talked of how the 'disease' laid dormant in a particular bloodline regardless of the passage of time.

"Every fifty years or so, one of us Cabadula is born with the gritchino in the blood. You can't tell till they die. But this one" - he pointed at the coffin - "I always had a feeling."

A favorite in this collection belongs to a talented writer/artist/singer I'm fond of- Cecil Castellucci. She wrote 'Best Friends Forever'. It tells the tale of a friendship between a frail dying human, and a jaded vampire. I totally get her. To have a friendship like that, to know such a form of friendship in one's lifetime, is the truest blessings one can receive with enormous gratitude.

One of them was going to live and one of them was going to die. But not exactly in that order. 

And then, as if by magic, or by complete mutual understanding and love for each other, the absolute knowledge that they would never condemn their truest friend to their lot in life, they both moved at the same time as they put their weapons away. 

Amy settled back into her chair and read a magazine and lived, as undead a life as it was. 

Gina settled back into her pillows, closed her eyes, and died peacefully, in her sleep.

Found A Pouch

Was looking for a thin pouch to put my messy keys, lip balm, eyedrops and whatnots before dumping it into a big bag. Found three remaining pieces from a stash of pouches by Annabel Lee. Bought in Shanghai. Love her tight stitches, contemporary feel to the designs while retaining the traditional touches, and quality silk. Gave away a few of these to the girls, and suddenly realized I didn't keep any for myself.

Just as well that there's a black left. I must have unconsciously gave away every other color, but black, a much favored color. The BFF has one. But I forgot what color she's carrying. Heeeeee. It's quite funny. In February, when I popped over, she squealed at the beige bag I brought. She had the exact design, but in black. We bought it in separate shops in different countries at a similar timing, give or take two weeks. Talk about telepathy. We rarely turn up in the same clothes. Slightly different preferences there. But we're rather alike in terms of choosing the type of accessories. That includes shoes. But she surprises me with her fondness for Hello Kitty (?????!!!!!), heart-shaped items, ribbons and polka dots.

Russian Circles, In Town For A Second Time

If the bff was still in town, she'd have dragged me kicking and screaming to David Guetta's gig at Fort Canning earlier in the week; and I'd have returned the favor by arm-twisting her into turning up tonight for Russian Circles at TAB. We haven't reached a consensus on the matter of a live DJ-set or a live band-gig. Or rather, we're insistent on our very divided views. Hurhurhur.

I really wanted a tee. But they were all sold out. GRRRRRRR. Gotta order online. So happy that KittyWu Records brought in Russian Circles for a second time. Much love. The band has had a hectic tour schedule across Australia, New Zealand, Hong Kong, Taipei and Kuala Lumpur. It also meant that nobody needed to fly anywhere to catch them, and across cities, we can stay put to share notes on their gig, especially among the few of us who like the band's heavy (instrumental) prog rock sounds. Singapore was the last stop before the band went home for a well-deserved break.

Chicago has somehow produced many post-rock, prog-rock bands. Well, Russian Circles would refuse this label, but I've no choice! Don't know how else to describe their music. Brian, Dave and Mike are awesome lah. Funny and talented. But my secret favorite-st musician in the band is Dave, for those thumping beats of their songs. I've a soft spot for drummers, not so much for guitarists. Heeeee. Allow me to point you back to this 2010 shot of Dave by Aloysius Lim (of Photo Pit Access). Absolutely brilliant.

We bought new album Empros, digitally. The man had torn through it like fire. I haven't. I wanted to wait till after the gig, then hear it on the stereo. Not as if I don't know their earlier songs or sounds. I wanted that element of surprise, to hear some new songs live. The venue, surprisingly, wasn't unconducive to the vast sounds of the band. Enjoyable night. What a treat. One of the best.

Celebrating Life :: Starlight Alchemy & IEHAC

Part of Esplanade- Theatres on the Bay's 10th Anniversary celebrations, 'Gift Box' brings artists together in a celebration of their art, sounds and dedication to the craft. Starlight Alchemy's 'Ten Candles' combines light, fire, and dance into six movements set to the the vocals of Tian Daphne and Iris Judotter, and the music of Dinesh Rai and In Each Hand A Cutlass (IEHAC).

Much more than the music, I was eager for a chance to see the artists of Starlight Alchemy in action. I was mesmerized by the twirling lights. When artist Max Pagel brought the fire to IEHAC's 'Glaciers', the tone shifted significantly into deep booms and pulses, I grinned. Totally appropriate. What a wonderful mesh of visuals, dance and music.

Throughout the short 45-minute set, I was kinda tickled by the projections on the screen that were meant to accompany the reflections of Singapore artists as they remember the past and look towards the future. The images of the fishing villages kept popping up, and the iconic buildings of the skyline of Singapore. Fine, if this performance is taken to another venue, but we're right at the skyline, by the waterfront. Brain didn't register the projected images when I could just lift my eyes and scan the stunning lights beyond the boundaries of the Outdoor Theatre.

All too fast, the show was over. Really enjoyed it. IEHAC's music was brought alive by the movements. Lovely to see another interpretation to it. I like light and fire. No better time to feel the heat and watch the skilled artists handle it with practised ease set against the beautiful night canvas.

One more show tomorrow at the same venue of the Esplanade's Outdoor Theatre on Friday 12 October 2012 from 7.30pm to 8pm. Go see! Plenty more beautiful music and memories lined up for the weekend activities as this gorgeous arts space that Singapore can be proud of celebrates turning 10.

Tea & Thai Food At Cafe Pal

[Cafe Pal has permanently closed as of 12 March 2017.]

Found a gem in the conveniently located (Middle Road opposite the National Library, next road to Purvis Street), quiet, cosy and unassuming Cafe Pal. It marries modern Thai food and tea. MY TWO CURRENT FAVORITES. I was so thrilled to have finally discovered it. Cafe Pal was known as Momo & Moomoo. Now, along with a name change, it has re-branded. Its management structure has of course changed, and with it, a little of its business operations. All for the better, methinks.

Cafe Pal offers refreshing fruit teas, and importantly, a range of Taiwanese oolongs, Chinese tea, and Japanese tea. They take pride in the quality of the leaves and final product. I love their presentation. The quality can be tasted in the final brews. There're also light cakes available for dessert. Umm...I didn't pay attention to the rest of the cakes on the menu, but there's an orange chiffon cake which arrived at our table fresh from the oven.

Beyond Pou Chong (包种), Dong Ting (冻顶) and Gao Shan (高山), I'm not familiar with Taiwanese oolongs. These are generally light, and almost floral. They go well with food. Visiting with the H for tea, we tried the Da Yu Ling (大禹陵) which is similar to what I'm acquainted with. But for an extended afternoon of sipping, I like the Oriental Beauty (东方美人), also known as '白毫乌龙' which is non-roasted but fermented, and has more pronounced layers of flavors in its golden-brown brew.

I don't know why this has slipped under my radar for so long. Went there twice way back, wasn't impressed and forgot all about it. But Yhingthai Palace Thai Restaurant has gotten my renewed interest, all thanks to Cafe Pal. The last visit was for tea. There was no space for food. I was determined to return another time to try its food. The man and I popped in within the week. Keeping it within the family, items on the cafe's lunch menu are made one street away, in the kitchens of Yhingthai Palace Thai Restaurant. Once our orders were put in, they were carefully plated, covered and brought over quickly.

The man and many friends love the simple dish of minced basil chicken (not beef or pork) rice with an egg sunny-side up. Frankly, we like the version served up at the hawker stall at the basement foodcourt of Orchard Cineleisure Mall. The balance of spice, sour and lean meat is perfect. Rarely do we have restaurants do it well. Even the stalls at Orchard Towers and Golden Mile don't do it as crisp. They tend to overload on the salt and MSG. Haven't ventured out farther yet. We found the version at Cafe Pal, and presumably Yhingthai proper, to really hit a spot.

Phad Thai comes in many versions, all proudly made by different chefs/cooks. I don't fancy those that are too wet or too sweet, preferring those that lean towards the salty and finished slightly dry. And I really like the version done by Cafe Pal/Yhingthai Palace Thai Restaurant. Nom nom nom. Next visit, I need to check out its soups and other dishes.

Tea and Thai food. :) I like.

'Soondubu Jjigae'

After eating a lot of versions of Korean food, the man has picked out his favorites. Of course he has identified which ones he might be able to replicate at home. The other evening, he decided that he could whip up a soondubu jjigae (tofu stew) quite easily. It's kinda a mix of that and recipes for doengang jigae. He skipped the mussels, clams and prawns which would have made it seafood stew. That would be saved for the weekend when he's back from the work trip.

Propped up the iPad on the kitchen counter. Randomly flipped a couple of recipes, and he decided to lift off a couple of them. He's not a pedantic cook, and decided to mesh everything together according to taste and instincts. He went easy on the gochujang, fried up the daikon, zucchini and stuff, and stirred up the stock to be a seafood based version without meat. Honestly, it wouldn't be my favorite thing. But it was quite a delicious and hearty stew over sticky brown rice mixed with wild grains. Once in a while. Not too bad. I think many friends would like it. :)

I Love My BFF

Golden Week in China. Glorious for me.

BFF avoided the crush and all traffic jams, skipped town early and whooshed into the little red dot. We went out and away, and back, and now she's flown off home with 60kg worth of supplies (think Lingham's chilli sauce, Ayam sardines, chicken rice paste, curry and laksa sauces, etc) in her suitcase. 

Prioritized the entire week's schedule for the BFF. Of course we didn't stick to each other 24/7 throughout. We've other friends to hang out with too. But we made sure there was a significant amount of time spent together doing nonsense stuff like buying identical blouses and shoes in different color combinations. Woot. Too fast. Time seems to fly by so fast when we're together. The next meeting being planned right now. "Winter is coming." She says. :) Till then.

Hanging Out

Happiness is seeing the girlfriend find so much joy and contentment with her partner. There's a happy bubble within when I know that her partner is cool to hang out with. At lunch, I was glad that my partner didn't misbehave, did his usual couldn't-be-peeled-off-hand-stuck-to-phone stuff, and still randomly piped up comments now and then.

We don't have to be all best friends. Not possible. The dynamics are too complicated to contemplate. I don't care that the man might not like all my girlfriends. But so far, he hasn't hated anyone, while I've put my foot down at refusing to go out with some of his friends because I think they're better off alone on a boys' night out rather than a group outing. The man has a lower expectation of me. WHEWWW. He doesn't expect me to hang out with his friends or their partners. He knows I'm very badly behaved and shouldn't be trotted out often. Hahahahaha. Very pleased about that. That's how it goes. His friends are nice, some I 'click' with, the others I don't; their partners are lovely, but I don't 'get' them. Vice versa. So it's perfect that we don't see one another on a protracted basis. No way I'll travel in a group of friends, like be with one another 24/7 from departure to arrival and back. Unless our definition of group travel matches. That's going to be tough. The trip to Seoul was a pleasant surprise.

While some of my girlfriends and I are not keen to have guys tag along on our girlie dates, others are open to having partners come along once in a while. So for the occasional double dates, I'm appreciative that we can sit down to a meal once in a while (don't need to be regular!) together even if our partners seemingly might share nothing in common. I don't know what men usually talk about. But I know my partner steadfastly clams up when it comes to certain popular and stereotyped topics that men are supposed to talk about. He's not sociable that way. And neither am I. Not quite liking gender stereotyping, especially the part at certain dinners when we have to adjourn, and the host herd the men to a corner, and hostess chaperone the women to another nook. That's usually our cue to bid a hasty retreat.

Often, it's just more fun to hang out with my girlfriends rather than with their partners in tow. Still, I shudder to think of what happens if I hate my closest girlfriends' partners. Note, 'closest' indicates that there aren't that many partners to contend with. As for the rest, I can't be arsed. Thank gawwd that has never happened. Should I add 'yet'? I think no lah, choyyy! Like we're still 18 years old.

A Pot Of Tea, Killed

Many restaurants have noticeably given more focus on its options of tea. But this line is written because I've only recently started paying attention to the tea served. Prior to 2012, I don't even bother flipping through the menu for tea. A few restaurants housed in hotels do provide an impressive list.

The other evening, while glad to have a hotel support local business by sourcing teas from Gryphon. I was a little disapproving of how they served the tea. Excitedly, I ordered a 'Dan Cong Magnolia' (广东乌龙，单丛玉兰香) a Guangdong oolong, a brew known to be gorgeously elegant. This particular batch, going by the earlier held tasting sessions in July this year, would have been from this year's Spring harvest, which indicates that the tea leaves to be tasted ought to be fresh. But it would depend on the quality of tea leaves and chosen method of brewing.

When the pot of tea came, I inwardly yelped. All that metal! All that steeping! Spring harvest, best quality whatever also no use liao. What a waste of good tea leaves! I took the first few sips, lifted the lid to stare and smell the tea leaves, and extracted one leaf to stare and touch it. Sigh. A decent batch, killed by steeping and all that metal. In this giant pot, the flavors were forced out bitter, the sweetness and trademark layers were gone by the second refill of hot water. The third refill simply produced a colored liquid that couldn't have qualified as tea. I could take a couple of steps to control this, but still. :(

The man lagi better, commented, "No taste of tea. All water." That totally cracked me up. He's not even at noob level of structured tea appreciation lor, but he has drunk enough fine brews to discern that this particular fragrance of a Dan Cong is vastly different from what he has tasted from my hand. And yes, I understand that in normal operations at a restaurant, it's difficult to present a decent brew with the hardware, especially with that force of water hitting the leaves so rudely. What a pity, because this batch of tea leaves supplied by Gryphon was so decent.

One Slice Of Birthday Cake

Upon hearing that the man's parents went to the newest steakhouse in town over the weekend, along with other meals of pasta and whatnot, plans for a steak dinner were hurriedly scrapped in favor of a Chinese meal for his father's birthday celebrations. Lighter food. Not ideal for the folks to be eating so much red meat within such a short span of time.

Lighter flavors were found at the refurbished Hai Tien Lou (海天楼), now located on the third floor. Overlooking the lobby, its encased vibes are so different from the breezy sunny feel while on its old premises on the 38th floor. No more view of the sky and the city. Having come by twice since the move, and a third tonight, it still feels so impersonal. Like we're digits contributing to the F & B venue without bothering to mask it or soften the blow. Well, we are, and we did. Thankfully, food is still good, if not better.

The family doesn't like sweets all that much. Through the years, a whole birthday cake is often forsaken when the table is only made up of us four. In its place, one generous slice of cake would be more than enough to share. Tonight, Hai Tien Lou arranged for a not-too-sweet mild piece of mango mousse for the man's father.

Oh Rock Oolong, I've Missed You

Since I embarked on my tea journey, this is the first long stretch that I've gone without my usual favorites. I drank A LOT of green tea in Seoul, and learnt much. That was great, but it wasn't exactly satisfying. I prefer heavier teas over green teas any day. Surprise surprise, not. I actually miss having a thick brew of something in Seoul. I was this close to walking into a teashop that sells Chinese tea to ask for a pot of pu'er even.

I know a couple of friends who bring along packs of tea on their trips. Some even take a '盖碗' along, like seriously. Not going to do that. I can buy a damn teacup if I really want to. But the tea, I'll consider taking a pack along next time, especially if I'm so picky about the quality of the tea leaves, and the tea I want isn't available in said city.

First thing I got in wasn't to head to a coffee joint. (Clearly it wasn't necessary for a dram of whisky either) It was to well...eat, and rummage through the tea packs, picked out a heavy tea with oomph, sat down and stretched the scoop of tea leaves for 8 steaming brews of Rock Oolong (岩茶－水金龟). Ahhhh...utterly divine. Yes, I love this tea this much. :)

Saw so many pretty things in Seoul till I didn't want any more pretty things, not even to set them up for a tea table. If I'm to buy pots and cups and whatnots, I need them to be in something monochrome and not fancy. I'll probably tire of them rather quickly. Brewed the tea with the most boring of vessels ever. They only had to be utilitarian and pleasing. Of course by now, it's possible for me to sort out a cup of tea properly without spilling water all over the table. Didn't share the tea with anyone. Drank it all by myself.

'BluePrince'

Conceived and directed by Bryan Tan, 'BluePrince' was written and compiled by Robin Loon who last did 《男男自语》that premiered at Singapore Arts Festival to rave reviews. Presented by the Substation and The Blue Statesmen, the play was performed by Oliver Chong who managed to hold the audience's interest in the entire play with just his expressive eyes, tone of voice, lighting and stage props.

Carefully set up, the stage was blanketed with hanging coils of Chinese incense and ambient red lighting. All about an artist and his thoughts, with many references to Kuo Pao Kun's works, a bit of an introspective thing going on about questioning the values and roles of an artist's work within the society. One day, the actor oddly wakes up in an electrical substation, with painfully bright stark white fluorescent tubes lit up to indicate the change of scene. He made it his home, and invited us to share his rather surreal dreams, and thoughts that controlled the electrical impulses.

This month celebrates the works and vision of theatre frontman Kuo Pao Kun and also his wife, leading pioneer Singapore ballet dancer Goh Lay Kuan. I'm not really sure how familiar we ought to be with Kuo Pao Kun's plays before watching 'BluePrince'. Frankly, there were many specific references to known plays, and I don't know them. I only caught some of them without full understanding- 'Day I Met The Prince', 'The Coffin Is Too Big For The Hole', 'Mama Looking For Her Cat', and 'The Little White Sailing Boat'...perhaps, et cetera.

Mid-way through when the play switched to a background of Chinese narrative, I was totally lost. Never mind me. My entire row of friends all had this look of 'huh' on their faces. From what I understood about the narration that also used poems, they were relevant to the actor's not-lengthy lines. So subtitles would have been nice, like really nice. It was right at this juncture that we heard thunder and the heavy fall of the rain. We actually thought it was part of the dialogue, sound effects and mood settings. But after a while, we realized that the sounds were for real. Heh.

One Pink Macaron

Before I hopped out to Yogyakarta, there was a window to catch up with one teeny birthday girl. She had a breakfast croissant. Like the other little girl I'm very fond of, this one also picked out the two crisp ends of the croissant to munch on. The adults were left with the soft parts. Bleah. I really like those corners of a croissant too. Hmmmph.

After breakfast, the birthday girl announced that she wasn't ready to go home. "Let's go shopping and have tea." I completely fell off my chair. You're 4 years old. What business do you have with tea and shopping? SHE IS SO GIRL LOR. And she runs away from the sun. I was tickled mad when she ran screaming from the rays of sunshine as we strolled down the street in the almost fierce noon sun. Okay, if she wants to come traveling with Aunty Imp, she needs to embrace the sun and the sea. Must.influence.the.children.

With much eye-rolling, Y and I looked for a quiet cafe that had a comfortable table at the corner, and something for Lil'Missy. Not quite a cake, but something tinier. Quite easily found. We sat down for tea with Lil'Missy. Of course she can't have tea just yet, only a sniff at our teas in the giant teapots. She was allowed one birthday macaron, blackcurrant I think, with her choice of freshly squeezed orange juice over apple and watermelon. When the orders arrived, she turned to me and said, "Take a photo first, Aunty Imp!" She cheerfully posed for me and grinned into the lens. Yes, my dear. She knows the drill well, having watched the silly adults who always whip out phones and cameras before anything on the table is touched.