Guinness The Golden Ale

Joined the friends for The Great Grill Out organized by Guinness. Hadn't come to one of these cookouts in a while. The event began at noon on both days; we went in the evening, and the erratic weather thankfully held. It was such a pleasure sitting outdoors under the clear night sky. The music was terrible; we suffered one hour of bad singing, out-of-pitch songs and terrible drumming. The violinist was good though. We tried to ignore it and talked really loud.

We didn't have to grill our own food. We paid. Hahaha. There were plenty of meaty choices offered by Artichoke, Red Eye Smokehouse, Camp Kilo Charcoal Club, and Decker Barbecue. All meats, and a few types of grilled bread and cheese. I didn't actually go there for dinner. This much meat would give me terrible indigestion. I ate a light dinner of soup and bread first before strolling over to party venue on Emily Hill. It was actually on the grounds of Kult Kafe lah. Dunno why the event refused to name the venue, and simply said '11 Upper Wilkie Road' and 'Emily Hill'. It doesn't hurt the branding! DUHHHHH.

Guinness Dublin had set up a bar run by their own Open Gate Brewery, offering their new beers to the crowd. However, they came in bottles instead of draughts. Can lah! We decided to start 'light'. So it came to pass that all our first drink of the night wasn't a Guinness stout. HAHAHAHAH.

I was pleasantly surprised by Guinness Rye Pale Ale. Not too bad. Not hoppy. I don't really fancy hoppy beers. My winner for the night was Guinness Golden Ale. I loved it! It wasn't a bubbly light golden ale as I had assumed. It had more punch and tasted closer to a brown, and wasn't hoppy. Quite delicious. I nibbled from the friends' plates. Literally bird-sized bites. Oof! I was all about the alcohol, and of course a final one for the road Guinness Stout. Ha! Four pints more than filled me up nicely for the night.

Eggs and Ham

The man is one of those who is always excited about hotel buffet breakfasts in Asia. He loves the range and choices available. Hotels in Asia do breakfasts sooo right. Since I'm not a hot breakfast person, I cannot understand how important a hot breakfast might be for many people. Hahahah.

I haven't attempted a Japanese-style breakfast for the man. It isn't difficult, but it's too much effort to expend this early in the morning or late in the night. The fridge isn't always stocked with ingredients needed. And my occupation isn't a 'housewife' or 'meal planner' or 'cook' okay.

Decided to assemble a hot breakfast for the man one morning when he would be having a long and likely angsty day at the office. The store-bought pieces of smoked blackforest ham were seared, and I used the rest of the oil for the egg. I almost always can do a sunny-side up with the yolk still runny. I haven't lost that skill of 'one crack of the shell and the yolk comes out whole'. I never have to waste eggs to get the perfect sunny-side up. Today was no different.

The man went, "Ooooh, what a nice breakfast! Thank you darling." He sat down, and almost as an afterthought, asked, "Do we have avocados? An avocado will be perfect!"

WALAOEH. NEVER DIE BEFORE IZZIT. DON'T HAVE AVOCADOS LAH. 😒🙄

Next week then I do avocado toast for him lor.

Sand, サンド

I was compiling a shopping list for the BFF who offered to shop for meeeee in Tokyo. Wheeeee! So I wrote out items wanted, tagged accompanying photos and their descriptions in both English and Japanese. Then the BFF has a point of reference lah. It's the least I can do to enable a smooth interpretation and fulfillment of my 'demands'. Hahahah. She speaks passable Japanese, but I'm not sure she reads it fully, and I can't assume the sales people would understand English fully either.

There's this tube of Shu Uemura BB cream which I use (and like very much). I never knew its full name (I'm assuming the brand has a few types of BB creams), or the name and number of its shade. It was bought at the shop in Tokyo where the I simply picked the most coherent shade of all tubes that were tested on my neck. Sure, there was an English portion in the front that states it as 'shu uemura stage performer BB perfecto', but it doesn't tell me the shade or hue.

When I saw the shade's name and color, I started laughing. Why would people still bother to learn Japanese then?! Just make sure we know our katakana and hiragana damn well, and slang every English word will do. You'd more or less hit an accurate contemporary pronunciation of sorts. Like 'シーフード', 'seafoo-do'. Although the 'f' syllable isn't very pronounced in Japanese, and 'v' isn't used at all, 'シーフード' is used everywhere from shops’ signs to menus. I personally prefer to use '海の幸' to refer to seafood. Everyone else who understands Chinese can guess at the kanji, which won’t be far from its actual meaning in Japanese.

So this tube of BB cream. The tube states 'BBパーフェクター', which literally reads 'BB perfecto'. Okaaaaay. Then its hue of 'サンド' is literally pronounced as 'sando'- sand. The brand categorized this color as 'sand'. 🤣

Addendum: Case in point, this is done even in parliament. The new Justice Minister used 'kurarifai' for 'clarify'; I DIED. (H/T to J for the tweet.)

Morsels〜で千葉の味

Aged kinmedai | pickled noge nori, mee sua, Yamasa usukichi vinaigrette.

Went to Morsels for its sake-pairing dinner menu themed 'The Taste of Chiba'. Chef Petrina went to Chiba and brought back good stuff and ideas for a meal. The seven-course menu utilizes the current season's ingredients from across Chiba and the dishes are paired with a range of Tokun Shunzo sake from Sawara.

Totally enjoyed the kinmedai. The flesh was aged and served with mee sua, Yamasa usukichi vinaigrette and pickled noge nori. Then its skin was served in a yuba wrap with persimmon sambal on kinmedai sauce. Both courses were delicious!

The rest of the food was good too. However, I should have requested to swop out the main of Jack's Creek wagyu beef brisket to a fish. Forgot to ask about it when I booked our seats. I really dislike wagyu and with the demi-glace, it was indeed way too rich and sweet for my liking. Left the whole chunk on the plate.

Loved the jackfruit banana cake. It's quite hard to go wrong with this combination unless you over-do the sugar. Tonight's cake was still too sweet for me, but I suppose it's okay for most diners. The final candy for the evening was a strange persimmon pate de fruit. My tastebuds couldn't get used to it. The pink peppercorn! Had to discreetly spit it out.

I skipped the last sake of the evening. It was Tokun's karakuchi honjozo (辛口本釀造) served WARM. I took a sip and stopped there. While I can't always differentiate a honjozo (本釀造, 30% of the rice has been polished away with an added a small percentage of distilled alcohol) from a junmai (純米酒, pure rice wine with no addition of distilled alcohol), I'm not fond of karakuchi honjozo as a combination. Honjozo is usually recommended for warm sake. I hate warm sake almost on the same level as warm water. UGH.

I loved the first three sake of the night. I was quite taken by Tokun's ginjo (吟酿酒, with 40% rice polished away). It was named futari shizuka (吟醸 二人静). Teeeheheheh. There wasn't any explanation about the types of sake during the dinner lah. They just poured it out for us, and we referred back to the menu for the respective sake's tasting notes. It's only because I know my sake stuff, so when the man asked, I explained it to him. It was an enjoyable evening.

Murakami's 'Killing Commendatore' ::『騎士団長殺し』

I wasn't going to bother with Haruki Murakami's latest 'Killing Commendatore' (2018) till Hong Kong censors declared its Chinese language edition as indecent. WHUT. Now, what is so indecent about it that Hong Kong bothers to censor and not Singapore? LOL. Oh. The sex, and the description of sexual happenings. DOHHHH.

I read this in both languages. Borrowed English version from the library, and borrowed the Japanese edition from the girlfriend. Both are just as annoying. My gawwwd, within the first 100 pages, the protagonist repeats his life story about a million times and I wanted to strangle him. Walaoeh, the rambling. (Reviews here, here, here and here.)

The book's title sounds way better in Japanese —'Kishidancho Goroshi' or 『騎士団長殺し』The two parts are titled, 『騎士団長殺し: 第1部,　顕れるイデア編 』そして『騎士団長殺し: 第2部,　遷ろうメタファー編』. The Japanese edition is a two-part series. It features, what else, another one of those Murakami men. This one is an unnamed 36-year old painter living in Tokyo. He paints portraits. His wife Yuzu is seeing someone else and wants a divorce. Startled by the news, he took off on a solo road trip to Hokkaido and Tohoku, and ending up in his friend’s father’s old house on a mountain in Odawara, Kanagawa. Everyone else he meets is incidental, although they feature a lot in this story, from his nearest neighbor fifty-four-year-old Wataru Menshiki to thirteen-year-old Mariye Akikawa who may or may not be Menshiki's biological daughter.

This house used to be owned by famous traditional Japanese artist Tomohiko Asada, who is now senile and debilitated. The temporary occupant-artist found a painting in the attic titled 'Killing Commendatore', drawn by Asada, but wrapped up and never saw the light of day. The painting depicts a violent killing from the olden Asuka era, adapted from the opening act of Mozart’s ‘Don Giovanni’. After this discovery, the book degenerates into total surrealism, replete with shrines, ringing bells, and of course caverns and wells. Ohhhhh. Walaoeh.

Basically Tomohiko Asada's years in Vienna resulted in an assassination plot, government deals and secrecy. He was so traumatized that he threw everything he had into this painting, and the painting captured the essence of his fury, angst and pain, and came alive. Okay, so the Commendatore does appear in this book. He's a two-foot-tall manifestation wearing traditional Japanese garb who seems to have popped out of Amada’s painting. He is an IDEA, a neutral. There is Long Face, who's like a goblin of sorts.

This blend of fantasy, warped realities and normalcy is typical Murakami, and it just falls flat for me. I want MORE. I want full out supernatural or fantasy, not this halfway world. UGH. Ermmmm. I lost interest in the book halfway through. But I doggedly finished it. I really don't like this story and the narration; I'm going to take so much pleasure butchering it if any of the friends defend it. HAHAHAHAH.

"I can spare your life," I sad, my knife still on his throat. "But only if you agree to guide me to where you came from." 

"That is something I cannot do," Long Face said in a firm voice. It was the first time he had used that tone. "The road I took to get here is the Path of Metaphor. It is different for each one who traverses it. It is not a single road. Thus I cannot guide you, sir, on your way." 

"Let me get this straight. I must follow this path alone, and I must discover it for myself—is that what you're saying?" 

Long Face nodded vigorously. "The Path of Metaphor is rife with perils. Should a mortal like you stray from the path even once, you could find yourself in danger. And there are Double Metaphors everywhere." 

"Double Metaphors?" 

Long Face shuddered with fear. "Yes, Double Metaphors lurking in the darkness. The most vile and dangerous of creatures." 

..................... 

"Please, sir," Long Face begged. "Will you not loosen my bonds? I fear what may transpire should I be left in this state." 

"If you're a true Metaphor, untying yourself should be easy. Aren't Concepts and Ideas and others like you able to move through space and time?" 

"No, you overrate me. I am blessed with no such marvelous powers. Concepts and Ideas are Metaphors of a much higher order." 

"Like those with orange cone hats?" 

Long Face looked stricken. "Please do not mock me, sir. My feelings can be hurt too, you know."

Gloves of 'New Fit & Feel'

E flew into town, and it was randomly very nice to catch up over an easy lunch. The sweet girl came with a bunch of gloves. She said she was horrified to find a new packaging for it and almost shrieked it aloud between the supermarket aisles. The packaging said 'New fit & feel'. I blinked. Aiyah, whyyyy. The old ones work perfectly fine, and I like precisely for that old fit and feel.

Meidi-ya Singapore stocks it, but it isn't as fun to see it in a different packaging, and it's such a treat to receive the gloves as presents. I love it! I usually use two pairs of it at home- one for the kitchen and one for the grunt work, like washing toilets. E and V have both been supplying me with the best kitchen/work gloves ever! Hahaha. They discovered it hiding in Australian supermarkets, thought it of good quality, and proceeded to supply me with years and years of inventory. Hahaha. I have sufficient stock to last me through 2020!

The gloves at home are due to be rotated anyway. Decided to open up a new pair just to compare the differences. Slipped them on and realized that the supposed 'New fit & feel' truly meant that. It was bigger around the palms and fingers, and longer on the arms. It makes it easier to remove instead of having to struggle to peel them off. It doesn't feel too bad, really. I have sweaty palms, so the extra space seems to have made the sweat ease up. The biggest difference is in the additional dots and groove on the fingertips. It used to be all smooth. The quality's still there, and when I wield glass, ceramics and such, they still don't slip either. I think we can all continue using it. :P

Lunch at Edwin and Cooks

Went out to lunch at Edwin and Cooks, where we ordered loads and our friends beat us to the bill, again. I love the restaurant's casual vibes, and very decent food. When a bistro tries hard and gets the basics done right, we can't fault its food. The menu offers a range to cater for most diets, and the kitchen is obliging to individual preferences (pending on available ingredients of course).

Chef Edwin Eng came to take our orders and doesn't mind all the tweaking to carb-free, keto, vegetarian, quirks and such. How very nice! The eatery's specially customized vegetarian burger was really good. Chockfull of mushrooms and avocados. So savory! I understand that the pork ribs are nice. But we were full and none of us bothered to order that. All these would have to be done at the next visit! The restaurant has expanded from three tables to six outdoors, and has also occupied the adjacent unit, which holds four tables indoors and can comfortably seat 23.

The mini fish and chips were so fun! It came with a generous amount of tartare sauce, of which I promptly licked it all up. If I ate this and a salad all to myself, it could be a filling meal. Couldn't resist the salad. Cranberries, squash, tomatoes, kale, orange and parmesan. Mmmmm. It's the exact combination of ingredients that I love and will assemble for myself at home too.

They were out of Hokkaido scallop pasta, which was a pity. I really wanted to try the lemongrass and kaffir lime broth. Had to settle for the gamberoni, which is their take on prawn pasta done aglio e olio with calamansi, broth and egg. It was good! They even asked how many pieces of chilli padi we wanted. D went for a conservative one piece. I went for a normal two. The man went for three. I should have taken three. We're chilli fiends- me more so than the man. Three would have been nicely spicy but I still get to taste the full flavors of the food. Prawns stand up very well to chilli and spices.

Beef Short Ribs & Duck Soup

Stole a bag of Ponni rice from the friends that day and cooked up a big batch for dinner and for the fridge. Decided that the best sort of meat and sauce to go with it would be Korean style beef short ribs- galbi-jjim.

Bought $80 worth of beef short ribs to feed four. These short ribs are fairly fatty; the lean parts are quite sizable still. This sort of meaty meal wouldn't be ideal for me, however, it was super satisfying for the man. The marinade wasn't difficult to blend, but I had to go out to buy a bottle of applesauce. That was required as part of the marinade. I wasn't going to also make applesauce. Marinated the short ribs overnight.

The man had just gotten back from a week of crap food in the US. Hahaha. It was a good work trip, but food wise, it was soooo sad. He wasn't in the right venues, and he had no time to rent a car to get out to look for food. He only had two good meals on the day that the friends drove down to take him out around town. So he was absolutely happy to have a one dish meal of sorts like this, and a bowl of soup.

The BFF and I had zipped off for an impromptu dinner of Peking duck one rainy evening two weeks go. Of course we couldn't finish the whole thing. Ate the nice breast meat, and packed the rest of the meat and bones home. The BFF made me take the bones and declared that she wanted a bowl of soup from the bones. Okaaaayy. These bones sat in my freezer till this meal. #ImpieCooks2018

I'm not quite into using duck as a soup base. One could do salted mustard greens and duck soup (鹹菜鴨湯, kiam chye duck soup), but I'm rarely in the mood to boil that. Hahaha. Duck can be very strong, so go easy with the bones and skin if you'd prefer a lighter tasting soup. Always add a few slices of old ginger to balance out flavors. Boiled up a pot of  winter melon, barley and duck soup. The portions of duck bones plus meat I brought back could be split into two pots of soup for eight. Saved a large bowl for the BFF who couldn't join us for dinner. Packed it with a bit of rice and beef, and sent it over to her kitchen. One big portion of 靓汤 for her (she's quite a soup monster) before she flew out on a hectic work trip.

The Watson Backpack Arrived

After everyone kicked up a major ruckus in July about the delayed shipping of the Watson backpack, the brand somehow got their act together to send out shipping notices by the batches. When I saw the shipping notice for the Watson backpack three weeks ago, I rolled my eyes. It was taking a route from Canada to Manchester, UK and to Singapore. Obviously I'm not holding my breath. One fine afternoon, without notice, it arrived. FOR REAL. OH. LIKE, FINALLY.

The man could have picked it up from Manchester since he was right there. Anyway. When I opened it, I started laughing. It looked like a turtle shell. I gave it a go. The Watson backpack isn't that light. It's quite heavy on the hand. All of 2.7kg. However, when slung on the shoulders, the weight feels okay. Someone did give thought to the design. Bit of a bulk, but kinda sleek still.

I wouldn't carry it. It's highly impractical for me. The outer hard case makes it a little bulky for me as a backpack. Besides suitcases, I kinda like my bags squishy. I was highly tempted to stick wheels on it and pull it around like a cabin suitcase. Well, the man likes it, and that's all that matters. It's his backpack. He's the one who'll be using it frequently. Apparently it fits his notebook and all travel essentials fine and will keep them secure when he runs around.

Bhutanese Peppers for Stir-Fry

Our friends went to Bhutan and came back with groceries for us. Amongst the packs were cheese (similar to mozzarella, but not feta) and these huge Bhutanese peppers. I don't think I want to make ema datshi with it. To be honest, I'm not a fan of it. 😬 I'll use these peppers in a normal stir-fry. Those peppers are only a little spicy; no heat or fire, but possess a depth of taste and flavor that the bell peppers in our supermarkets don't provide.

It's not that I enjoy cooking all that much. It's still a science, and salt and spices totally make everything taste better. It's more of that I rather eat food from my own pots than to eat a mediocre meal outside. On many days, there isn't an excuse not cook when I do have access to decent ingredients. It's just a lucky coincidence that the final products turn out edible.

I really love my cast iron pots. They do stir-fry just fine, and prevent the oil from splashing all out and turn the entire kitchen greasy. For a bit of crunch that evening, it was asparagus and French beans with the Bhutanese peppers and a clove of garlic. It was super satisfying to have that with just a fillet of pan-seared sea bream for dinner.

Cantonese style sweet and sour pork (咕噜肉) isn't difficult to do. It's all in the sauce really. Never stinge on ingredients- use a good brand of ketchup, and always include real tomatoes. The pieces of pork doesn't have to be deep fried till there isn't any meat left. The pork just needs to have a hardier texture somewhat so it doesn't turn mushy sitting in the thick sauce. Fried up beehoon with mushrooms and pumpkin, and a small batch of sweet and sour pork for lunch that day with M. I like this dish of sweet and sour pork to be spicer than sweet; the Bhutanese peppers gave it that extra oomph. #ImpieCooks2018

Trainspotting in 2018

Happy to have heard Irvine Welsh speak at the Singapore Writers Festival. That very first book blew me away in 1993. 'Trainspotting', both book and films (1996 and its 2017 reboot) took me to a world I didn't understand, didn't know and while not wanting to know, was absolutely fascinating. The world of 1980s punk, rock and roll and the fast life in Edinburgh. I eagerly lapped up the sequel 'Porno' (2002) and its prequel 'Skagboys' (2012).

The author now lives in Miami, and is seeking out partnerships with film studios in Los Angeles. I suppose we'll be seeing his works on television pretty soon. In an interview with The Guardian's Sean O'Hagan on 19 August 2018, he said,

You were renowned for your somewhat hedonistic lifestyle when you were younger. You’re 59 now; have you settled down? 

It’s controlled explosions these days. I’ll have the odd tickle if something interests me. It might get messy occasionally, but nothing like it used to. I’m pretty sporty these days. I go to a boxing club most days; it’s the ultimate workout. You feel alive at the end of it. We’re all getting older and heading towards death, but how much of your life do you want to spend thinking about that? I’d rather have the intensity of the boxing gym. It keeps you alert and alive.

I've just finished reading his latest 'Dead Men's Trousers' (2018). While it's kinda nice to 'see' Mark Renton, Franco Begbie, Sick Boy and Spud again, and see how they are now. But this book is kinda long-winded. I'm not very fond of stories that turn into an epic.

If people don't get out of this punk phase, continuing to party hard, drink heavy and do drugs all the way, then dying at 27 years old is the rockstar way to go. If adults don't get off heroin and whatever addiction, never mind the illegal bits and the lack of a steady job and income; their personal lives will be in shambles. Alcohol, gambling and drugs are a lethal mix that provide a one way ticket to hell.  (Reviews here, here, and here.)

I'm working out a lot, going for runs with Vicky. I'm eating well, keeping off the drink and drugs. I occasionally dae NA as a lifebelt, like before I go traveling with the DJs, and have an app tae tell ays where the meeting are in each city I visit. I'm watching my weight, for the first time: I was always a thirty-two-inch waist. Bow Billy's thirty-fours fit me just fine. My tribute tae him and Spud is tae wear them until they fall off. 

But maybe we'll all have some ice cream. Just like when Franco and I first met back at that van, outside the Fort, him carrying the Tupperware bowl. This time he won't be chasing radges, and I won't be chasing drugs. My phone rings, and I step down the beach to take it. It's Gavin Gregson, the publisher in London. The one I sent Spud's manuscript tae, with just a few corrections. Well, two words mainly, both on the title page. He will reiterate to me about how excited they are to be publishing my book next spring. I think about Sick Boy's words, that you can only be a cunt or a mug, and you really can't be a mug. A thousand things go through my mind at once. Maybe atonement is about doing the right thing. But who for? I see Vicky smiling at me, as Alex does a wee dance on the spot. What do I do? What would you do? I let it ring another couple of times, then hit the green button. — Gavin, how goes?

Irvine Welsh's lecture in Singapore was titled, 'Who Are We and Where Do We Belong?: Questions in a Divided World.' As expected, it was a politically charged discussion. I don't expect less of Irvine Welsh. He's got a forceful opinion on what's with the state of the world right now, and it was less of discussion about writing styles or even directions. The world is his inspiration and I'm not sure he wants to talk about 'Trainspotting' all that much now. He's back to DJ-ing, uhhh....techno music. I really don't care for that. LOL

"I think humanity is in a bit of an existential crisis, I think we don't know exactly what's ahead for us... Technology has pushed us towards a whole different mode of production. The growth of the internet, information technology, that was a force for globalisation. We opted for a neo-liberal form of globalisation, and that was a mistake, really." 

~ in a review by The Straits Times, 4 November 2018

Dark Chocolate Cookies

Grinned at the long tube of cookies. I haven't had them for a while. I always buy a few tins when I'm in London. But I haven't passed by that way for years. L was on quite a mad work trip, and that girl somehow squeezed out a pocket of time to get out for a bit and even found space to stuff a tube of these dark chocolate cookies into her suitcase and brought them home for meeeee. There was no occasion—she just wanted to do so. I was super appreciative!

I have a weakness for dark chocolate biscuits/cookies or sablés. The less sweet it is, the better; the higher the percentage of cacao, the more I welcome the dessert. Fortnum & Mason retails a decent version that's about as sweet as I can bear. Although I now see the macadamia nuts in the photo, I don't actually taste them. Perhaps it's always ignored since the dark chocolate is the star.

It was a hectic morning, but the afternoon was free. I blocked out that chunk of time after 2pm so that I could comfortably be at home to...read a book. Of course there would be an afternoon coffee, and I thought, 'why don't we open up the tube and have ourselves some cookies?' I did just that. I was greedy! One should be enough, but I felt like having three pieces. Hurhurhur. I take my coffee thick and black anyway. Those cookies were slowly savored and lasted longer than the cup of coffee. It was a rather lovely breezy afternoon on the patio.

Two Plays

I wasn't very keen to watch these two plays. But the friends were persuasive, so I bought my tickets and went along. I certainly don't regret seeing them, and I suppose no matter how unenjoyable (to me) some plays are, they add to my critical appreciation of theater.

'Private Parts' (2018)

When I understood that the re-staging of Michael Chiang's 'Private Parts' in 2018 wouldn't be a new adaptation from its 1992 screenplay (commissioned for the Singapore Festival of Arts), I was less keen to see it. But the last time I saw it was in 2004, and fortunately I was within a circle of family and friends who supported the show's themes and actors.

Directed by Beatrice Chia-Richmond, I'm frankly not impressed with this 2018 version. Sure, I get that intolerance and misogynistic views towards transsexuals and transgender people still exist, and Michael Chiang firmly believes that the themes are relevant today, but watching it, I truly felt that it's dated. Sure, there's 'RuPaul's Drag Race' with all its glamor, blitz and fashion through its ten seasons, but there's also immense talent. I don't see a discussion of talent being focused on in the play. I also feel that the playwright and whoever he spoke with, didn't properly define gender identity, and the play comes across as lacking in this aspect. However, I suppose stereotypes and caricatures are what the superficialities are. If these topics in the play and its associated stereotypes or otherwise stir plenty of conversation for the next generation to take up the cause of equality, then the play is still relevant.

'The Reunification of Two Koreas'

Directed by Jacques Vincey, and translated into English by Marc Goldberg, Theatreworks staged Joël Pommerat's 'The Reunification of Two Koreas'. Well, it's got nothing much political going on, and before the show, I knew it was a weird name that has nothing to do with DPRK or South Korea. The idea of 'reunification' is slipped into these human relationships, of people reuniting, reconnecting in various situations. What is love and what is communication? The play centers around love in the age-old exploration of 'eros' and 'agape'.

The play is made up of short stories, vignettes into everyday relationships, and situations that aren't unfamiliar. A teacher accused of molesting a child, Sisters fighting over a man, a bride discovering how her groom had chosen her after a fling with her sisters, husband and wife arguing over the merit of having a son in the army, a husband and his wife hospitalized for dementia, ... et cetera. While the stories are interesting, and the actors were pretty good, I was fidgeting in my seat. At two hours and thirty minutes, the play was a tad draggy. 

An Early Birthday Meal for J

When I asked J about the items that she usually eats at Samy’s Curry at Dempsey, I meant to replicate them. I wanted to do an early birthday gift for her in the form of a homecooked meal. J enjoys fishhead curry, but I can’t replicate that. I don’t exactly fancy fishhead curry Singapore or Malaysian style, so I wouldn’t be able to produce a decent version. I would probably do a fish curry Kerala style with barramundi fillets for her another day. I already have kudampulli (or kokam, Malabar tamarind; which can’t be substituted with our local assam), and a treasured Kerala fish curry recipe from S’s mom whose version I love best. J said that she usually takes the aloo gobi Manchurian too. Okay, I can't do that because I dunno how to cook it! It would have to be aloo gobi. Luckily the supermarket sold cauliflower by the quarter. A quarter and one potato sufficed for two.

I never knew J loved butter chicken (murgh makhani) this much till today. Hahahaha. The man did a kickass butter chicken for dinner a few weeks back. I didn’t think I would fare worse, except that I prefer it spicier. Since I might be better with a knife, I made tandoori chicken from the usual raw fillets. Hehehe. Cooked up a small pot for J, fully intending to freeze a portion for her lunch next week. I used a ton of tomatoes, yoghurt and uhhh butter. But I skipped the ghee and coconut milk. #ImpieCooks2018

Prawn biryani was cooked to fulfil the quota for carbs. To be honest, I didn’t really know how it would turn out- I’ve never cooked prawn biryani before this. HAHAHAHAHA. I only know the theory and I've seen how restaurant and home cooks do it. However, with the cast iron pots, it's so easy to do biryani now. It isn’t very different from cooking a vegetarian biryani or a version with goat meat. I think this prawn biryani turned out pretty decent. Except I forgot about boiling eggs to go with it. Teeeeheehehhe. I think J was very pleased with her dinner. Oof.

📷: J

A Bowl of Wonton Noodles

This post isn't about me. It's about private bus driver Y and how he seems to be a nice guy who works hard, but almost got screwed over by his old company, and has been dealt a poor hand by fate and circumstances. He was injured working his old job, was forced to quit, and because of the nature of his injuries, he had to change jobs to be a driver for bus companies which provide private charter services.

I take this private shuttle bus quite often. Out of the blue one afternoon, Y asked me about his issue of injuries sustained at work, medical treatment, insurance claims and compensation. I told him I couldn't answer him properly if the stories and questions were in bits and pieces. It wouldn't be fair to him. It wasn't as if he knew what I did for a living or whatever. I had no idea why he started talking to me instead of his family, or friends. By now, I have a fairly good guess about the reasons, but I won't go into details here.

Y took a giant leap of faith and thrust a stack of letters and reports into my hands. He doesn't fully understand English, and he doesn't understand the system, and he wasn't sure what was going on with all these letters or what he was supposed to do. Over the next few weeks, as more letters came, he brought them to me. I didn't mind. Those letters were not complicated and I do read letters for a living. Hahaha. However, I don't have a practicing certificate, and I'm not in the position to give him proper legal advice. What I could do for him, was to walk him through the processes and explain to him what all the parties were obligated to; directed him to the relevant departments and names, and found him the accompanying numbers to call to chase for what he rightfully deserved. Each time I explained something to him, I waited for him to absorb it and sort of repeat it, just so that I knew that he got it.

However, the way I saw it, he didn't need a lawyer since the Ministry of Manpower (MOM) took over his case. Two months on, and let's just summarize it to have proceeded smoothly — MOM cleared his medical reports and issued instructions to his old company and insurance firms to process his claim for compensation within 21 days. Y got his payout. Hurrah. Credit is due to MOM for taking action, and the insurance company for facilitating the compensation. I didn't do anything of substance!

Dunno why Y saw it fit to include me in his 'treat' to the 'colleagues'. There was biryani (for the first batch of colleagues), which I declined. But he insisted on my share of wonton noodles (for the second batch of colleagues), and reminded me to collect it at the appointed time. Okaaaaaay. The noodles came with a packet of satisfyingly thick kopi-o-siu-dai.

What did I do to deserve this delicious food brought to my front door? Stared at my bowl of noodles in thorough bemusement and appreciation. It was the old-school sort of wonton mee that I've missed, and would have to make a long trek to get a taste of. This was a good iteration. I was very thankful for my lunch that day.

Many Drinks With Shogayaki

Dinner at Suju the other night was hilarious. It was almost as though we were there for drinks instead of food. We had so many drinks on the table! Well, it was a very hot day. Umeshu on ice with soda, iced hojicha, and iced water. I felt like having an easy glass of red, and ordered it too. Hahaha.

Yes, we were thirsty and hungry. Ordered a few appetizers, my favorite kaki gomadare, and for additional crunch to the food, a kabocha tempura. My dining companion couldn't resist pumpkin or decent tempura.

Suju's kitchen does a really good version of shogayaki (豚の生姜焼き, stir-fried ginger and pork) that I'm quite fond of. If the restaurant does it well, then there's no reason for me to cook it at home. Hurhurhur. We each also greedily polished off a full bowl of beautiful rice. I usually ignore the soup and the pickles, so next time I might skip having the set and simply order a bowl of rice. I love the combination of sticky white rice with shogayaki (with the fatty bits scraped off) and its little bit of gravy.

Missed Out On Asking David Sedaris About Chicken Toenails and Such

I missed 'Love, Death and Family Life: Postcards from David Sedaris' at the Singapore Writers Festival. I'm quite a fan of his humor and how he conveys that through his very effective writing. Had to ask friends to fill me in, and I checked out reviews about it.

Asked by a member of the audience if he enjoyed reading his books out loud, Sedaris, whose recordings series on BBC Radio 4, Meet David Sedaris, involves him doing just that, said: "If I lost my voice, I might lose my will to write." 

"Reading out loud is really the laziest form of show business," he added, to much laughter from the audience. 

~ 'David Sedaris is sometimes mistaken for an old woman' published in a review in The Straits Times on 4 November, 2018

Do you remember that years ago, David Sedaris stirred up a bit of controversy with this article 'Chicken toenails, anyone?' published in The Guardian on 15 July 2011. The lines that introduced the article were completely clickbait, "David Sedaris would eat Chinese food – but only as an alternative to starving. So a visit to China was always going to be tricky..." 

I'm not very fond of Chinese food in China either (they always give me the runs) unless I'm in Yunnan or Mongolia and out in the grasslands or mountains. Also, American Chinese food is just WEIRD. I wouldn't eat moo shu pork or moo goo gai pan. I feel a little sorry for David Sedaris. Hahaha.

Chinese food and its ingredients can be a challenge to people unused to this sort of cuisine. Basically, anyone who only eats boring fried food, baked beans and pies and think pasta is adventurous, are going to have problem with any other food that isn't a chicken fillet. And if that's all David Sedaris knows of Chinese food in the diaspora in 2018, then he really has to check out more cities where there're plenty of Chinese restaurants. To that, I assume that when he's in Singapore, he'd not have any reference points to compare our local foods to China's, and that somebody has explained to him how Singapore Noodles doesn't exist in Singapore. 😂

To be honest, the essay he wrote is a little tedious and chockfull of stereotypes of Chinese. And a lot of talk about turds and people pooping in the streets. Unfortunately, he's talking about his own experiences, which many of us share. Ermm, I'm guilty of it too, only because I see it for myself all these examples unfold in my face. It's now 2018, and marginally better. But I still see perfectly formed steaming piles of turd ambushing me in the fanciest of toilets in the big cities. Well, just take a look at the forums, and you see enough people yelling about bad behavior of Chinese tourists too.

This was what I had grown accustomed to when we flew from Narita to Beijing International, where the first thing one notices is what sounds like a milk steamer, the sort a cafe uses when making lattes and cappuccinos. "That's odd," you think. "There's a coffee bar on the elevator to the parking deck?" What you're hearing, that incessant guttural hiss, is the sound of one person, and then another, dredging up phlegm, seemingly from the depths of his or her soul. At first you look over, wondering, "Where are you going to put that?" A better question, you soon realise, is, "Where aren't you going to put it?" 

I saw wads of phlegm glistening like freshly shucked oysters on staircases and escalators. I saw them frozen into slicks on the sidewalk and oozing down the sides of walls. It often seemed that if people weren't spitting, they were coughing without covering their mouths, or shooting wads of snot out of their noses. This was done by plugging one nostril and using the other as a blowhole. "We Chinese think it's best just to get it out," a woman told me over dinner one night. She said that, in her opinion, it's disgusting that a westerner would use a handkerchief and then put it back into his pocket.

Butter Chicken & Spinach Dhal

Before the man went off on a work trip, he was in the mood to cook. An easy meal of spinach dhal and butter chicken. V wanted to catch up before she flew out on back-to-back trips too, and didn't mind our dinner menu for the evening. So she came over, and she justified us having a bottle of wine to go with the meal. Hehehehe. Burrrrrrp.

The man zoomed out to Tekka Market bright and early at 7am, (I was at the gym) and came back with ingredients. I was a little stunned by all the little packets of...... powder, beans and such, like we don't already stock 'em at home.

This is his first time doing butter chicken; he was understandably nervous. BUT during food prep that morning, he somehow accidentally sliced his finger open to the cuticle. It was a short but deep cut that needed some tending to. I was a little amazed at how much blood there was. Thank goodness for antiseptic powders.

Once I put a plaster over his finger, he went back to slicing onions. DUHHHH. I forbade him to handle raw chicken after that. I didn't feel like doing it either, so we went out to BUY a few pieces of tandoori chicken from our trusty eatery. HAHAHA. Butter chicken is really all about the gravy. All the flavors are there. Tomatoes, onions and butter. The larder always has spices, and bottles of chilli powder, paprika, and garam masala. As long as you get the gravy's texture and flavors right, it's all good. The man's version was fairly appetizing.

Brunch With Friends

We had brunch a month ago (literally to the date of this post) at our still-favorite brunch spot of Basilico. I haven't gotten around to sorting photos or even deciding whether to write a mundane post about it, then life exploded, and so many things have happened since then.

It felt good to have the friends for those few hours. It made the world feel more sane. We hope to have them in Singapore longer, but they'll probably leave town soon. It's tiring toggling between two countries and three cities. If there's nothing to hold them back, then it's time for them to shrug off shackles and obligations and fly out.

At this stage of our lives, the forties... we're all doing some serious adulting now. It's more than dealing with our emotions and the realities of caring for aged parents and those who are stricken with long-term illnesses. We're good at compartmentalizing, and we're fairly clinical about sentiments. We'll simply do what has to be done. But it is exhausting.

In this season of life, we're extremely blessed to have many good friends, friends who have shown (Not 'prove', okay. It's not a test) their sincerity, discretion and love. The man and I ask ourselves, ‘what can we do for our friends?’ Often, the answer is sadly, 'not much'. Our friends are of course fairly independent and aren't the needy sort. By now, we've kinda weeded out those people from our lives. We hardly bother to meet new people nowadays. Whatever for? What we can do for our friends is, offer emotional support, and help whenever called upon.

I DID IT.

I chickened out of the aquathlon last year. I didn't feel ready. This year, I feel stronger. But I'm not up to doing Spartan races, not even when the friends waved their Trifecta in my face. Not quite my cup of tea. When the friends signed up for the aquathlon this year, I idiotically agreed to join them.

I didn't mention a squeak to anybody else, in case I chickened out again. These friends are seasoned athletes doing regular triathlons and trail races. I’m green and haven’t joined a race ever, and dislike crowds. I wanted to puke all night and just before the start. Hey, races are like that, one shouldn't race unless you feel fine. Oh, trust me, I really didn't want to turn up at all, but I was kept so busy before the date that I had no time to think about it till the night before. Sunday's 'race' wasn't about timing or even gaining experience for future races. I wanted it as a fitness check. A one-off. I had no tri outfit, and was a total noob at transition. It was still quite fun! Everyone had fancy gel packs and such, and I ate a dark chocolate cookie. 😂

To my surprise and quite a bit of thrill, I wasn't the last. Teeehehehehehe. Being in the middle of the pack is really quite comfortable for me. By God's grace, the weather was wonderful and the waters were calm. I'm a fish—1.5km is my regular sprinting distance in the pool; that was literally no sweat. I was really pleased when I came out of the water far ahead of the pack. I fell behind in the run though, but I cleared the 10km run in a very respectable timing under 58 minutes.

I DID IT. And I still turned up at the gym for my usual classes (GRIT Strength and Pilates Reformer) two days after, and the much-needed private class at the pilates studio. DOMS has officially set in. Although I'm not in pain, and going down the stairs isn't an issue, the muscles are rather sore. Oddly, the soreness is all in the core, abs and glutes. My feet, ankles, calves and arms are okay. The lats and obliques are aching like never before. Hmmm. I am proud of myself. That said, I'm NEVER running 10km again without good reason (not for another race either).

Netflix & Gin

On an evening when the BFF and I were both exhausted, we had a quick bite at a nearby hawker center, and stayed in on her couch to binge-watch Kim's Convenience.

It had been crazy two weeks at work for her. She hadn't left work before 8pm for two weeks straight. I had a looooong week too. There was nothing of importance to discuss between us, and we didn't even have to talk very much except make stupid comments in reference to the happenings on Netflix. And that was the quiet night with good company I wanted. No hypocrisy, no schmoozing, no double-crossing, no games.

I brought a bottle of Kyoto dry gin, and three bottles of tonic water. She had lemon and wilted mint in the fridge. All good; light drinks followed. I had been gifted a huge bag of Popo muruku separately packed in edible portions, so I brought a few packs over too. It was a rather strange flavor, sweet and spicy. The BFF loved it. The sweet notes were strange; I'm more used to spicy muruku though. It did go well with drinks.

An evening of crazy television humor, drinks and muruku. That totally counted as a night out. To be honest, it was more satisfying than parking our asses at a fancy bar and paying through our nose for overpriced cocktails. 

Easy Meals At Home

It's such a breeze to cook in this kitchen that it's almost effort-less to prep breakfast and dinner here. Avocados, eggs, tomato salsa and such form the man's staple hot breakfast items. Anything else goes for dinner, depending on whose turn it is in the kitchen.

The man has cleverly allocated two weekdays for me to sort out dinners. Weekends are a toss-up, depending who's in the mood to cook. He knows I'll cook light stuff for myself anyway, so he asks for his portions too. Bleah. On days when I get home at 6pm, it means I have exactly 90 minutes to prep, cook and put dinner on the table. Steamed eggs with minced pork, steamed fish fillets, whatever stir-fry vegetables. These are what I call my 'default food'- easy dishes that I can whip up in 45 minutes with minimum fuss and grease. However, brown rice does take 50 minutes in the cooker. If you ask me about the recipes, I'm just going to laugh. I don't cook with any. At most, I glance at the internet and improvise.

As much as we love Cantonese soups, we don't need to have it every other day. Once or twice a week is fine. Cool rainy evenings are perfect for soups. Whatever type of soup it is, it has to complement the meal. Fish soup takes extra effort to cook though. The BFF has staked her permanent claim of one bowl when I boil soups. She loves soups, but I have no idea why she actually likes mine. I'm not sure if I'm flattered. 🤔

The other night, the man requested for steamed barramundi (fish of the month!) with lime and chilli, Thai style. Luckily for him, I usually have a ton of chilli, lime, blue ginger and lemongrass in the fridge, and could easily do that. These stems form the base of the spicy tangy broth the fish sits in. I'm not very fond of adding sugar to this mix and try to minimize it. I'd rather adjust the flavors with onions. And my broth tends to be fiery. Thankfully, the ratios have been okay and the steaming broth Thai-style has been turning out decent. #ImpieCooks2018

The Haunting of Hill House

To be honest, I was a little skeptical of Netflix's reimagined 'The Haunting of Hill House' directed by Mike Flanagan. Remember the 1999 film (starring Liam Neeson and Catherine Zeta-Jones) that was a flop? After two episodes, I binge-watched the entire Season 1. I didn't read anything prior about it, and assumed it's simply a television adaptation of the book. As I watched, it drew me in. I started googling.

This isn't Shirley Jackson's 1959 novel.  Mike Flanagan's version is completely different. The television series is clever and very well thought-out, centers around the horrors a family experienced, and is still experiencing. The story for this 2018 version runs concurrently in two timelines, and it works great.

However, the point is, I went out to the library to borrow a few of Shirley Jackson's books and re-read them long-form stories. I love horror stories that evoke the element of the supernatural (and not psychological). My childhood is filled with these strange scary tales, and I've never outgrown them. Oh these books are such a joy to read after all the staid sombre boring crap I had to read to pass academic examinations. Hurhurhur. Shirley Jackson's stories fascinated me, and they still do.

In time for Halloween, in its October 28, 2018 issue, The New Yorker also published Shirley Jackson's spooky short stories- 'The Lottery' (from 'The Lottery and Other Stories' 1949), and 'The Man in the Woods' (first published in The New Yorker, April 28 2014), and 'Paranoia' (first published in The New Yorker, August 5, 2013).

Oooh. What a serendipitous recap online. I didn't borrow the short stories from the library, so this is nice. To me, Halloween is never about parties or candy. It's All Saints' Day. Funny how at this time of the year, I do spend quite a fair bit of time re-watching old horror films, and reading all my favorite horror authors. There's something about letting the imagination wander. It's a healthy thing to do, then you don't really fear what lurks within the shadows.

If you aren't going out to re-read Shirley Jackson's books, there're these three stories online. You have to at least read 'The Lottery'. Then... Which is your favorite? 😉

The Pilates Bridge

Instructor did a textbook bridge up and scooped to roll down each vertebrae. 

There will always be a few Pilates exercises that I don't look forward to. Somehow, they always zoom in on my weak spots. Ugh. Besides The Teaser sort of exercises that work tight hip flexors, I also fear any sort of Pilates bridge. The ache in the glutes are so not funny. If the glutes don't work hard enough, the quads will be dead.

That afternoon, the Pilates instructor smirked and decided on 15 minutes of doing Pilates bridges. Good lawwd. In gym time, especially during a HIIT workout, 90 seconds would be madness. Those reps can kill if you go mad and do them fast. Don't you hate it when the instructor says "20 more seconds" and you're about to keel over from burpees or mountain climbers?

She put me to work on all the machines, ending with the Cadillac. That was the worst. She literally saved the best for the last. A Pilates bridge with feet in suspension straps on the Cadillac. Those springs aren't the steadiest! Good laaawd. MY ABS HAD TO EXERT SO MUCH EFFORT. This year, it's been so crazy because I'm not even focusing on it, but I have been keeping these six-pack abs for months on end. The last time I saw my abs this defined, was like, two decades ago.

I can't seem to scoop and round that back more to come down. 

Breakfast At S's

Spent a morning at S's happy new home. It was spacious, sun-drenched (gentle morning sunshine) and decorated with the girlfriend's signature tasteful colors and flourishes. She also needs the space for her growing girls who are active and full of energy to jump and run around.

It's pretty fun how S, A and I now live so much closer to each other that it's a straight road up and down in twenty minutes. Hehehe. We eked out a good portion of time that morning. We didn't want to just do a one hour date and run off. It's not that easy for us to meet now, and once we have a date, we lock in a good four hours. Oof! It was so good to see S and A. I've missed them. A has disappeared into the depths of theological studies and prepping for what seems like a deluge of essays and tests. Now that S has secured her masters, she's busy with the house move and all. S's daughters were at school, and we had her all to ourselves.

S prepared a light store-bought breakfast for us. Good! We requested for light bites so that she didn't have to fuss over us too much, especially in the middle of such a busy week and a ton of boxes yet to unpack. She tends to spoil us. It was a cheerful spread at the table. Bread, good coffee and a loooong conversation, peppered with serious topics, and hilarity. I'm grateful for this precious time of fellowship.

Goodbye Uncle K

Tonight, today, tomorrow, and for a long time more, the man and I mourn the loss of Uncle K who passed away peacefully after an eight-year battle with cancer. Nine years ago, at super short notice, he took time out from his hectic schedule to officiate our marriage as a Justice of Peace. He didn’t even hesitate in agreeing. We’re still not sure how much juggling his assistant had to do to shift his schedule around.

He’s a dear dear friend’s father, a friend whom the man has known for two decades and counting. She and her husband (then boyfriend) saved the man’s ass in law school by loaning him their notes so that he could scrape by the exams. Ha! I’m glad to know her and the husband, and form a genuine friendship with them. They’re such wonderful, amazing, witty people whose company and conversations are always a pleasure to look forward to. She is the only person who bakes me the most delicious chocolate-Guinness cake, which in fact, is the best I’ve had to date.

We remember the many afternoons of ice kachang and cheng tng at SICC. We appreciated the advice he dished out to us when we were mulling over career options. We remember his kindness and our conversations at his dining table.

Thank you for the many many crates of beautiful Sassicaia 2008 and 2009, and offering us the only bottles and expressions of Macallan we enjoy, and the gift of that prized pack of Da Hong Pao that I've hoarded till this day. You’d have had a fearsome reputation at work. But you’re never just the ‘Chairman’ or 'CE'; you’ll always be ‘Uncle K’ to us. We choose to remember your warmth and generosity.

We will miss you. Farewell, Uncle K.