Cookies for The Man's 44th

You know I'm not keen on desserts, cakes or baking. The last time I attempted baking anything was in 2007 when the man was so tickled by my cookies in a muffin tray that he called them 'mookies'. So I bravely thought I would bake him a small batch of cookies for his 44th birthday in 2019.

The recipe said it made 12 cookies. Perfect. When I scanned through recipes for dark chocolate cookies, I knew that the mixing was going to take some effort. I don't own an electric mixer and I don't intend to get one. Whipping the ingredients to produce 12 cookies sounded do-able.

Had to raid the girlfriend's larder for some baking supplies. Stole flour, cocoa powder and caster sugar. I halved the amount of sugar. Added a wee bit of salt to the mixture before it went into the oven. STILL, when the baking smells wafted out, I puked. It isn't just nausea. It's a straight-up stomach churn that I can't control. There's something about the smell of flour and butter and sugar heating up (like those smells of waffles or pancakes) that sends me to hurl up all stomach contents within 10 minutes. UGH. At least this round, I only puked once in the 20 minutes that the cookies were baking in the oven. I wouldn't be baking again for a long time to come. It's an unenjoyable activity.

I didn't bother using any moulds. Smashed them into little lumps. Almost adorable. Hahahah. The cookies stayed as mishapened lumps, but after they cooled, they were hard and crunchy as cookies should be. They didn't turn out half bad. It tasted fine. Hahahha. They just looked ugly. The man didn't mind the cookies at all. Hahaha. He ate one upon arrival at home, after being fully fed on the plane. He would take one cookie a day to satisfy his sweet tooth.

Popiah For Lunch!

Went to Aunty J's for lunch. She gathered us for popiah. Yay! Popiah for lunch on any day is great, and it's this bonus I can never say no to. Popiah is one of my favorite foods. I inhale those and have them as a full meal, even as dinner. If I want popiah nowadays, I still head to Maxwell Market for a superb fix; I love that stall's iteration.

Aunty J makes all the ingredients in her kitchen, down to the popiah skin. All that effort. It's not the first time I'm tasting her popiah, which was why I eagerly looked forward to this lunch. There were many desserts of homebaked kueh ambon, sugee fruit cake, and soya beancurd. It's always an absolute treat to be able to sit down at Aunty J's dining table and quaff all the delicious foods.

Grinned when I saw sliced lupcheong in the tray. That's kinda fun. I would put lupcheong in my popiah! Lots of minced garlic, sambal belachan, and greens, but no crushed peanuts. It's always fun rolling up our own popiah. Then I could slather all the minced garlic possible into each roll. Homemade popiah skin rocked. I don't bother with slicing up popiah. I roll it up like a burrito and chomp it like that.

I was hungry, and this 1pm luncheon at Aunty J's made me hungrier. I arrived all ready to EAT. It was with a fair bit of consternation when I realized that everyone else ate two rolls of popiah only. I happily rolled my own popiah...... I ATE FOUR. 🤭 Wah, I really not shy sial!

Going Out For Beer

Work has kept us and the friends so busy that it was tough to find time for drinks. Also, when I have early mornings at the gym, I find it tough to have more than two drinks the night before, and I would have to finish that last glass before 9pm, otherwise I end up with a tender stomach and a splitting headache. I can't quite take that much beer or stout/porter; two pints in one evening tend to be okay. Within our social spheres, it seems to be a conscious effort to cut down on alcohol and sugar, methinks.

But the we made it out for a pint over two weekends. Very good to chill out in relaxed company where few conversation topics are taboo. We had a number of welcomed flavors pulled by Smith Street Taps at Takumi, then went for a last drink of the night at Muddy Murhpy's with a boring and comforting pint of Guinness.

Finally checked out Pink Blossom Brewing at Ubi Avenue 3. It's awesome to have a proper brewery + tasting room in Singapore. I like it that the brewery doesn't pretend to be a bar. It isn't; it's just a small brightly lit tasting room, with the vats and such behind in a separate room. I really hope they survive. They trot out decent brews, and that vibe is quite like our favorite breweries in Washington State. (Think Holy Mountain, Reuben's Brews and Cloudburst) However, the brewery doesn't offer tasting portions or half-pints. Dunno if they would do that in future, but for now, their logistics don't permit that option for customers.

That weekend, Pink Blossom Brewing had two stouts on tap- a milk stout, and a smoky stout. LOVED THEM BOTH. Some friends thought that the stout and pale ale are a tad fizzy. I thought so too. They're definitely not flat, but it might be a little high on the sugar. The signature pale ale I like is their 'Lean on Me'. I like the fruity notes. I'm not into hoppy beers, so when IPA week rolls around, I won't be there unless there's a random pale ale or stout on tap, then I can still have a pint.

7.30am Mondays

I was highly annoyed when the gym arbitrarily canceled the Monday 11.15am slot for LES MILLS GRIT™Strength. Nothing else replaced it. There're no classes at 11.15am anymore. I like GRIT™Strength at this time slot led by my favorite instructor. It's before the lunch peak, and I get a reprieve in the showers before the crowds whoosh in. 😕😤

What I'm displeased about, and made it known in writing (of which there aren't any replies from the gym, as expected), was how the gym didn't even give fair notice about it. It simply removed the class from the timetable (online), and told their instructors to announce it a week before implementation. It felt like they couldn't care less about what we thought. This 11.15am slot wasn't an empty class. There were plenty of people who attend it. It's sooo disruptive to my schedule. What the gym has done, is push me away from them. And thoughts of not renewing the membership have floated up more often.

Somehow, I enjoy starting the week with a GRIT™Strength class. I'm fussy about instructors. They're important because I'm not so disciplined to push myself that far. The instructors play a large part in encouraging me to go nearer to fatigue point. As the years go by, the number of instructors whose classes I enjoy has reduced. To be honest, if the last three instructors (I'm fond of) leave the gym or their classes get rescheduled to an impossible timing and inconvenient venue, then that's the final nail in the coffin.

Now I have to do the Monday 7.30am class at another outlet of the gym, if I want to follow said favorite instructor. I wake up at 6.15am and roll to class in a daze. I have to be extra careful with form in order to remain injury-free. My body and muscles aren't warm enough for a 7.30am class. ARRRRGGGGGH. 😒😠

A Garlic & Honey Roast Chicken

The in-laws' current helper, Y, can cook very well, provided she's not restricted about the ingredients in the dishes. When she cooks for me, or according to my instructions, her dishes came out as expected. The other evening, I told her to roast a chicken, Western style, according to whatever recipes she chose. She mulled over it, and asked if I was okay with garlic and honey. Oh yes. She usually doesn't roast it like that for the in-laws. There's a roast chicken recipe in Ellice Handy's 'My Favourite Recipes', which is horrifying, because it's exactly the type of roast chicken that I fear, as it's served along with baked stuffing. Eiooow. It's a little too traditional and conservative.

A roast chicken is brainless, and a crowd-pleaser, especially if the quality of the raw meat is good. The suppliers to Singapore's chicken stocks don't offer very many nice ones. Done simply with garlic and honey, pepper and salt, properly flipped over without one side turning black, one can't go very wrong with roast chicken on the table. Even the breast meat would be moist and tender. Obviously I can't be arsed to touch a whole raw chicken, much less roast it. Meidi-ya provided us with a lovely spring chicken. Y sorted out it with a bed of fine beans, pumpkin and zucchini, all of which was added in only when the chicken was flipped. Vegetables cook faster, anyway, so it's one's choice whether to put in the vegetables first, or later.

The roast chicken was PERFECT, to me. Honestly, it was delicious. I took a bite to taste. A pity I'm not a fan of chicken, otherwise it would make a great meal. There were no additional carbs that night. We didn't need it. Y stir-fried a portion of sambal kangkong for me. The chicken was mainly dinner for the man, who ate it with gusto. He loved it so much that he didn't mind having it packed as a cold sandwich for lunch the next day.

I love Y's sambal terasi and sambal belado. She's the only helper (in a long line of helpers) who can do sambal-anything to the complexity of flavors and level of spiciness the way I like them. I only needed fry up the types of sambal once for her to taste, and she's able to replicate it. Awesome. Y is independent, smart and decent. She went away after her first stint with the in-laws, and she returned last November for a second stint. She has the patience of a saint. I don't know if she'll hang around longer, but I'll be very sorry to see her go. 

Ellice Handy's 'My Favourite Recipes'

Cackled when I unwrapped the gift and saw the title. Apparently this is like the de rigeur cookbook that all home cooks refer to in late 1950s to 1980s. First published in 1952, Ellice Handy's 'My Favorite Recipes' held many local recipes tweaked from her own kitchen experiments. The author is an accomplished home cook and wrote this book to raise funds for Methodist Girls School (MGS) where she was principal till 1957, and then teacher till 1964.

Obviously I don't know this book because neither grandmother referred to it, and neither of them were MGS girls nor did they have close friends who were, and the grandmothers had employed full-time cooks for their kitchens back then. Hahaha. They don't exactly cook these foods, and if they do, they used the recipes their grandmothers used, like a taimeshi or nasi bogana tegal. I ate lots of variations of pecel madiun too. Severe childhood allergies meant that my grandmothers had to be very creative with my meals; I also missed out on a lot of foods that Singapore kids of my generation know.

So these funny dear friends gifted me 'My Favourite Recipes' (2012 edition published by Landmark Books). I like books, but I'm not sure how well I'll utilize this book. I told them that we could share this book since one of them is into baking and they're all into desserts. Two thick sections of 50-over pages on 'Cakes, Pastries & Desserts' and 'Snacks' could be sliced out and filed into another book for someone else who could better use it. 😂 Bear in mind that someone who grew up in Singapore and the region would approach these recipes very differently from someone who didn't, but love the foods of the region.

In the 'European Dishes', the beef and chicken liver rolls and duck pot roast sound quite all right. The fried spaghetti and 'sauce and meat balls for spaghetti' are positively frightening. I do not eat pasta like that slathered with sauce. Even if you cook everything from scratch, I highly doubt it would taste very different from ketchup and canned sauce over meatballs and pasta. Think spaghetti bolognese done at shitty cafes. That is NOT the kind of pasta I favor.

The 'Chinese Dishes' are rather unimaginative, and when every recipe calls for corn flour and thick soy sauce, they're all going to taste the same. Soups and broth all suggested the use of 'seasoning powder'. What is that? Ajinomoto? Five-spice powder? *shrug The two recipes for pickles are pretty okay- pickled radish and carrot and pickled kwak chai. I was like, what is kwak chye? Then somewhere in those lines, it said 'salted preserved mustard greens'. Ohhh. Anyway, I'm skipping every recipe in this section. Hahahahaha.

'Malayan & Indonesian Dishes' didn't wow me. Okay I was hoping for sambar, sambal and fiery spices galore. But no. The palate is different. It slants towards lots of friendly coconut milk things and chutney, and rojak in Indian, Malay/Chinese style plus another categorized as 'easy-to-make rojak'. The recipe 'Sauces for Malayan salads' sent me into peals of laughter because I realized 'Malayan salads' referred to the rojak. 'Penang pickle' got me for five seconds before I realized that that's 'achar'. Okaaay, the recipe is sound, and could be tweaked for sweetness and heavier belachan and chilli flavors. I'm quite impressed with salted fish roe sambal. Hurhurhur. The recipe is exactly the way I would do it anyway, not as chunks but 'mashed', which I assume will be not be in the style of mashed potatoes, but more of broken-up pieces when I stir fry. The duck pot roast in 'Chinese Dishes' appeared again in this section; instead of rubbing the duck with brandy, this one requires ground ketumbar and pepper, salt and soya bean sauce.

The 'Indian Dishes' is extremely unhelpful to me. The spices used are insufficient and limited in imagination. When I gave it a whirl in my head, I didn't think these dishes, if I followed the recipes, would be palatable. The biryani and dhal would suck. The only thing vaguely do-able is the Indian kurmah, which actually would end up closer to Indonesian and Peranakan flavors. I'd go as far to say that the author doesn't understand that the dishes require and the final flavors that come out. The recipes are very mild, and lacking in many ingredients.

The cookbook is really what it says it is. It's page after page of recipes and concise instructions. There're no interesting tips, no funny lines, nothing. There're photos of the various food items, but there aren't any stories, no personal anecdotes, and not even humorous. They literally teach you how to do it. After a while, I decided that I'm going to see it from the author's eyes, as in how her generation perceives food and cooking, and just read it for information and background knowledge. Belachan in the book is spelt as 'blachan'. The fish of choice back then seems to be the threadfin; ikan kurau is used for every recipe that requires fish.

When I went through the various ingredients, cooking methods and timings, I realized that these are truly easy home-cooking staples. The dishes themselves aren't difficult to produce. It's the prep work that's a tad lengthy because of all the buying of produce, cleaning and such. Depending on how I tweak them, I suppose I could try out a dish from each section at some point, BUT never from the last two sections. Hahahah. 

A Plant Went To Its New Home!

When I moved into the new flat, I knew that I didn't want any plants that required roots in soil or gravel. Allergies meant that I couldn't touch soil without triggering swollen flesh on the hands or hives. I wouldn't be able to re-pot or do anything. The pollen from flowers would be highly annoying and I would be sniffling for weeks and months. The patio's limited hours of sunlight meant that herbs couldn't be grown either.

I didn't think it was a matter of green fingers. It's a matter of science and botany, and understanding how a plant adapts to a particular environment. And I'm not very inclined towards caring for plants, especially big flowering plants. I don't even fancy cut flowers in vases. Air plants provided the answer to livening up the patio with bits of greenery. They're fairly utilitarian and suit my purposes without irritating the allergies. They don't seem to require much care and I chose the species of tillandsia that are hardy and only need occasional watering.

Acquired quite a number of air plants (tillandsia). Hurhuhurhur. I have a few tillandsia xerographica and tillandsia streptophylla that seem fairly pleased in this flat. On a sunny day last September I thought, why not include a plant as part of the gifts for the BFF's birthday next year? So I selected a luxuriant-looking xerographica and paid it more attention.

Well, I suppose when the time came, I could have chosen a plant at random, but it's kinda fun to designate one as the gift. I could have sworn it knew its purpose and embraced it. The designated plant grew bigger and faster than the rest of its cousins. Over six months, I watched its leaves gracefully lengthen.

I have no idea if plants make good gifts, but it felt riiight. The BFF wouldn't mind a plant if it's sturdy enough. If I can keep a plant alive, so can she. We have about equal talent in killing plants. I'm especially skilled in scaring succulents to a quick death. That day, I decided it was time for this tillandsia xerographica to go to its new home, as Part 1 of the birthday gift for the BFF. Put it gingerly in a sturdy bag and went out to buy it a suitable pot. Grinned at the other air plants in the shop. I could have also just bought one giant plant, but I guess it's more meaningful to have grown it, although it isn't from a baby pup.

It felt like a fine day to send the plant to its new home. Whispered my goodbye and wished it 'good growing'. Handed it to the BFF who seemed quite all right with adopting it; she even knew where to place it at home. It brought me joy. May it bring a small measure of happiness to the BFF too. Cackled when I learnt that she has named it Medusa. Okaaaaay. 😂

Impossible™ 2.0

You won't have to convince me about Impossible™. I'm already a convert before I tried it, and when I ate it, I loved it. I was just waiting for it to arrive in Singapore, as the latest version 2.0. Temasek’s 2017 USD75 million investment round in it is paying off (after its recent slew of investment flops; Salt Bae, really?! And Bayer, whoops), and the product gets a boost from the restaurants carrying its plant-based burger patties. I enjoy a steak every now and then (that's probably about thrice a year), but I'm not fond of different cuts of beef minced into a patty, lightly seasoned and served as a burger.  It's just not my thing. However, if an eatery serves an Impossible™ burger. I'll think about it. Hahaha.

I’m okay about Beyond Meat (I definitely do not like Quorn), and I already buy them for the home. But Impossible™ might just get my vote. Perhaps it's the treatment of the meat done by the respective restaurants. I'm not vegan, so I can’t wrap my head around JUST Egg yet. Not hugely supportive because the texture and smells are all quite wrong. When you lather scrambled eggs with gravy and sauces, the calories simply shoot up. I love mung beans and I love eggs, but mung beans do not an egg make. Have you smelt cooked mung beans? You cannot take away my laid-from-a-bird eggs.

We went to Bread Street Kitchen for dinner because I wanted a taste of Impossible™ version 2.0. The restaurant does a regular Beef Wellington, and offers beef from cows. But tonight, I'm here for its special Beef Wellington done with Impossible™ meat. For my dining companions, they were free to order meat and actual beef in the form of a grass-fed Australian Angus ribeye, chicken liver and foie gras parfait with Madeira jelly, fish (hake) and chips, tagliolini with blue swimmer crab meat, parsley and chilli with white wine sauce, and such.

Served with glazed spiced carrots and seasonal greens (in this case, kailan), the Impossible™ Beef Wellington was delicious! I was so pleased with my meal. The kitchen did a great job! They did provide chilli sauce upon request, but it just isn't spicy at all, tasting not much different from ketchup. 🙄

If you rather not take 'fake meat', akin to how one would stay away from those Chinese vegetarian dishes that utilize gluten, then by all means don't eat these types of scientifically-engineered food. To me, I will, once in a while, because it's just better for the planet and our eco-system. (I have a supremely depressing view of the state of the world and its ecological balance that I rather not share at length.) If you're vegan or vegetarian, you will appreciate technological advances in culinary innovation and its wider choices. We're still in a privileged position of saying that we don't want GMO foods. At the rate we decimate the environment and farmlands, one day, (hopefully not in our lifetime) we won't even have those choices anymore. 

This Second Week of Lent

Lent began with my patience sorely tested. The first week was ridiculous—little things that added up to major frustration by the end of the day. These aren't major hiccups in the larger scheme of things; they're just life's little annoyances. The more I think about them, the more I understand that they exist to remind lesser humans that we ought to ponder about 'letting it go'.

If I don't let it go, then the angst simply fester when there really isn't any sane reason for it to do so. I'm not responsible for the actions of another, and even if I'm offended, I can control the intensity of my reactions. I clearly lack grace, be it sanctifying or actual. This Lent, I especially need God's grace and mercy.

As I read my daily devotionals, acceptance in the last long breath of the night sets the pace for a peaceful sleep and a cheery morning. There will be many stressful events and things ahead in this year and the next (and likely beyond) that will require faith and much strength. They mustn't break me. If I'm fearful of them, then I should dig deep within to seek more than stoic resignation, to stay in the light and to draw comfort from the gentle hands of God. To take each day as it comes. The second week of Lent is drawing to a close. I should continue to make penance and live up to the spirit of Lent.

[36] Be ye therefore merciful, as your Father also is merciful. [37] Judge not, and you shall not be judged. Condemn not, and you shall not be condemned. Forgive, and you shall be forgiven. [38] Give, and it shall be given to you: good measure and pressed down and shaken together and running over shall they give into your bosom. For with the same measure that you shall mete withal, it shall be measured to you again. 

~ Luke Chapter 6:36-38, Douay-Rheims

Asian Flavors In a Cup

I don’t think my palate has ever fully appreciated cocktails or vibes of cocktail bars. Once in a while, when it’s early enough that the crowds haven’t whooshed in, and the cocktails offered have a twist, I really don’t mind checking it out. Bars in Singapore tend to have a short shelf life. Strolled over to Native on Amoy Street to see what the fuss is about.

Occupying mainly level two and three of a shophouse unit, Native is tiny and if it gets super crowded, it’s somewhat uncomfortable, especially for me because of insufficient airflow and ventilation. I can imagine the long wait for cocktails as evening falls even though the mixologists have given logistics a thought. The efforts in the presentation of the drinks still require significant prep time.

I suppose they could do me a regular gin and tonic if I really wanted. Hahaha. Never mind, I was fine with flavors this evening. I think Native changes up its menu every few months, so in its limited offerings, one can still find a tastebud-suitable drink or two. The ‘Oolong Highball’ was so dangerously light and refreshing! We had the ‘Chai’, ‘Peranakan’ and ‘Pineapple Arak’, all of which tasted like dessert, and had rather ingeniously infused flavors. The arak was delicious. These didn’t come across as just a gimmick, and are truly Asian spices and syrups done well. Drinks were extremely palatable. The sugar though, sent me bouncing off the walls. Tsk.

Il Den

Hopped into the tiny Il Den at Orchard Plaza for dinner. The tiny restaurant seats six comfortably at a communal table, and eight would be a squeeze. The high chairs at the counter take four persons. Make reservations ahead especially if there're specific dates desired, and do cancel in advance too. They now accept not just cash and PayNow, but credit cards too. Run by Chef Javier Low, he doesn't just cook, he also sorts out the washing up. Anyone who's hosted meals for friends without a helper knows that this is a lot of hard work. Tonight, he had two helpers for a full house.

Il Den's food is a fusion of Italian-Japanese, influenced either from the chef's personal preferences or his days honing his skills at Iggy's (which I like, but not enamored with) and other restaurants. The current menu offered us an omakase set of either S$120 or S$150. The difference in price lies in the number of dishes, and we saw a Margaret River duck fillet trotted out to the diners next to us. We blinked at it. Okay, sorry, we can’t do duck this rare. It needs to be at least seared to medium. Luckily we went for the $120 menu.

The appetizer of tomato-something wasn’t impressive. I had no idea what the kitchen was trying to achieve. The pesto was weird, and the tomato froth/foam wasn’t done well and resulted in it tasting like tomatoes dunked in a Slurpee. The fishball with crab meat (surimi-style) in thick soup was boring but tasty. The cold uni and tako somen was expectedly dependable. But for someone like me who doesn’t take wasabi, this dish was a little overpowering on it. If they could have placed a blob at the side instead of mixing it in, it would have been tolerable. It wasn't a good mix of wasabi too, and the elegance and sweetness of freshly grated wasabi didn't come through at all.

The sawara fish fillet was utterly disappointing. While fresh, firm and beautifully grilled, and topped with delicious burdock chips and pureé, the fillet was horribly smoked. In fact, it smelt and tasted of stale Marlboro Lights. It could be smoked with dry salt or wood chips. If they had used bonito flakes, that’s a mangled use of it. I didn’t know how the kitchen smoked the fish, but whatever they used stank so bad that the lingering aftertaste was bitter. My table companions forced themselves to finish the fish, because, 'don't waste'. I didn't. If fish sucks, I refuse to eat it. I took two bites and left the fillet alone. I explained to the chef that the smoke wasn’t to my tastebuds, and that rendered the fish inedible to me.

The red meat came in the form of two small pieces of A5 wagyu beef neck. The neck of the A5 wagyu is a clever cut. It’s not just cheaper for the restaurant to control its costs without sacrificing quality and flavors; it’s not so marbled, making it acceptable for us, who aren’t into marbling at all. The surprise hit was dessert- banana cake with black sugar ice-cream and topped with foie gras shavings. Hmmm. It made dessert sweet and savory. Most interesting.

There were hits and misses in our meal. Depending on individual tastebuds, it can be more misses than hits. It wasn't memorable for me. While Chef Javier Low's flavors and experiments could do with a lot more refining, it’s a pretty okay meal. We hope our young chefs in Singapore can survive the brutal dining scene.

Cersei Lannister Sips Wine

Couldn't stop laughing when I saw Adam Gopnik's article in The New Yorker published on March 7 2019, titled 'An Art-Historical Analysis of Cersei Lannister Sipping Wine'. Ahhhh Game of Thrones. Die-hard fans will know exactly what this title alludes to and in a flash, we'll remember all those times Cersei calmly sips wine from a goblet. She manages to make wine seem to taste easy like grape juice.

I'm unapologetically a huge fan of 'Game of Thrones'. G.o.T. I love fantasy and I love one that's well done in books and on screen (very few). When I see a well thought-out television series of a fantastical world, it's hook line and sinker for me. It doesn't hurt that Ramin Djawadi has been composing music for the shows. The scores are excellent.

I was quite prepared to stop watching after two or three seasons. After all, many television series usually tank after Season 2 or 3. For G.o.T, imho, all seven seasons have been riveting. The character development has been superb and the twisting conspiracies and story plot, delightfully merciless. In this penultimate fight for the right to sit on the Iron Throne, The final Season 8 might as well be captioned, 'Last One Standing'.

Another vein of pre-Cersei iconography comes to mind, possibly a lot more significant. I mean movie stills that show hardboiled Hollywood actresses, Bette Davis in particular, sipping away at a glass of wine with exactly the look of smug and mordant superiority that Headey has mastered for Cersei. The mood—when, for instance, we see Davis and Miriam Hopkins raising a toast to each other in a still from the nineteen-forties movie “Old Acquaintance”—is not one of intoxication or even mere participation but of a brazen autonomy. By seizing on the male-gendered beverage, as they would say at Sarah Lawrence, the women are actually participating in an act of subverting the patrimony’s control. I sip because I can, I smirk because I choose to, and all of you White Walkers and dragons do no more than delight me as I do.

Villains in G.o.T come in all forms—outlaws, brotherhoods, snakes, nobles, advisor, royals, et cetera. Not all villains seem to be intrinsically evil. Most of us will agree that Cersei Lannister is a narcissist psychopaths, and is adept at manipulating humans to her whims. Like all main villains, she survives to the end, and we see her again in this final Season 8. However, this is war, and she's doing what every character in the show does- murder another when it comes down to a fight for your own life. Young Arya Stark is no exception. Heroes are always flawed. They've saved innocents, honored, and also killed innocents and disobeyed and rebeled. Causes seem to remain constant, but allegiances change like the shifting sands and clouds. Is redemption then necessary?

G.o.T's brilliance, also lies in its dragons. They're the mythical beasts of awesomeness in fantasy novels. Fire-breathing creatures who aren't quite the evil that folklore depicts. They're reinvented into loyal companions and fearsome warriors, as righteous as the humans who ride them or own them. Drogon, Rhaegar, and now ice dragon Viserion thrilled me to no end. Them dragons fierce, and are gorgeously designed by Dan Katcher. Led by Sven Martin at Pixelmondo, a visual effects team of no fewer than 30 to 40 artists work hard to animate those dragons, literally breathing life into them.

We've waited soooo long for Season 8. I'd better go have a think about the avenues of HBO subscription, and how I can legitimately watch this without kowtow-ing to our telcos. I can't wait for this final season to premiere on April 19.

A Cranberry and Orange Loaf

Y’s on a roll with her new Panasonic bread maker and has been churning out crazy delicious loaves. She baked me a fluffy cranberry and orange loaf. Awwwwwww. Gifts of food are always super appreciated! I sliced it up and put them into a box to sit in the fridge. Sure, there's sugar within the bread, and from the dried cranberries. But the sugar levels were kept low and very tolerable. I don't mind it at all. It goes great with natural Greek yoghurt. It could also go with savory items.

I was happily eating a slice a day. I didn't need to eat it with butter or yoghurt or anything else. It made for a quick grab-and-go nibble when I was rushing out for early morning meetings or gym classes. I don't bother to heat up bread usually. I kinda like my food cold, most of the time. Hahaha.

Kept refrigerated in the air-tight box, the slices of bread lasted well. As much as I love bread, I didn’t inhale them all. There were two slices left for the man to try. When the man got home from his long-haul flight and went straight to bed, he woke up to a decent breakfast. He loved the cranberry and orange flavors and the texture of the loaf too. He likes his bread toasted and hearty. The bread was a good base for a sunny side-up with homegrown basil leaves. Mmmm.

The BFF to the Rescue!

When I lost my tote bag in Hong Kong, there was a brand new pack of Very Important Pills within. That was no good. It meant that I now lack a two-month supply and I don't know when the next trip to Bangkok would be. I can't go without these Very Important Pills for even a month. It's not as if I can't buy them in Singapore. But big pharma monopoly and price control and all that—these pills go for thrice the price in Singapore. (Like everything else, basically.) I wasn't going to pay S$24 for a box of pills when I know the retail price in Bangkok is S$8 per box.

Luckily for me, the BFF was still in Bangkok for the week. She could help me out with buying two boxes of pills if she happened to pass by a Boots pharmacy. Regardless, I didn't want her to go out of the way to do it. Bangkok is honestly not far from Singapore. I texted her in a hurry, and she was all like, "No worries I'll get you the pills! There's a huge Boots next to my hotel." Yayyyy!!!! Thank God for friends who just so happened to be in convenient places. When the BFF passed me the Very Important Pills, there were not two but three packets. Very precious. Expiring mid 2021. Perfect. Hurrah. I was very grateful.

Along with the Pills, the woman also gave me a new set of wireless headphones. I lost my travel set too, right. But those were wired and almost 10 years old, but hey, they still work. Obviously BFF doesn't think much of wired headphones. Tsk. She insisted that these wireless Powerbeats3 are tough, and can resist a little sweat and they've got quite a long battery life.

You know what, she's bloody right. On a day when I was cutting it really close to gym class, those Powerbeats 3 stayed on my head and ears while I sprinted for the bus and the train. Woot. I doubt they're that sweat-resistant, but I don't drip buckets. The fit is fine for my ears. The fidelity isn’t great and the bass is too heavy, but I’m okay with it because these are meant to be hard-wearing and I’m not looking for audio clarity in a pair like this. I don't need the battery life to last 12 hours. 10 hours would be decent. Even on a long flight, I'm not awake for that long. Hurhurhur. I don't need to sleep with music. I have ear plugs.

Quick & Dirty Nitrates In A Bowl

I hadn't found a chance to boil up a pot of laap mei fan for myself. I do this every year around the Lunar New Year. But since I ran out of lupcheong and only just replenished my stock, I could only do this now.

I was exhausted from a long week, and resolutely declined all invitations and went home at 5pm for a quiet night in. The week had been crazy busy till I hadn't had much alone-time. With the man away on a work trip, it was the perfect time to indulge in my 臘味飯 (laap mei fan). He likes to put pieces of chicken to do claypot rice, and he prefers to use brown rice. I don't. No chicken, want white rice. I'm focused- it's all about the salt and nitrates yo! Full on! I don't even bother with faking nutrition when I do this 'claypot rice' meal. #ImpieCooks2019

Tonight, I decided to cheat by using the electric rice cooker. Heh. Took out a piece of lupcheong and a piece of yuncheong. Didn't put in the waxed duck breast. Too much nitrates already! (I'll dedicate another bowl of nitrates to the waxed duck breast another day.) Didn't even bother with buying vegetables on my way home. Didn't feel like having them in the meal since lunch was a giant happy plate of salad. Soaked a few pieces of dried mushrooms while I went off to shower and sort out the laundry.

Found a half a cup of jasmine white rice grains in a ziplock. Used that instead of brown rice. If I want to go the whole hog of a cholesterol salt and sugar bomb, might as well do steamed white rice, which would completely soak up the oils from the preserved meat. And, white rice cooks faster than brown. I was really hungry. Diced up shallots. I like to add them raw into the bowl, just to cut across the oil and salt.

Late Company

'Late Company' was written by Canadian playwright Jordan Tanahill in 2013 when he was 25 years old. Pangdemonium adapted the play for the Singapore audiences. It was a wonderful show with powerful themes that really touched the audience. The actors were brilliant. There were tears and laughs. The audience understood loss, grief and pain. While this is a dramatic theatre play, nothing about the themes and acting was dramatic because the themes, the words and the reactions are portrayed are too real.

I watched the 1.5-hour show with a fairly grim face. To be honest, I didn't really want to watch Pangdemonium's 'Late Company'. It's a play with themes that I'm not particularly interested in. I'm not keen on wanting to watch how parents feel about children's suicides, bullying in school and being bullied. I haven't even begun to understand the suicides of peers, which are happening one too many nowadays. While I'm aware of mental health issues, and suicides, these are already in my everyday, and I wasn't thrilled about sitting through a play with those themes. The play is part of the season ticket, and I went anyway.

The play addressed many themes. Obviously, suicide stood out for me. It doesn't have to be teen suicide. What's currently relevant to me, are suicides among people of my generation, and give or take 12 years my age. An acquaintance's suicide last month left me slightly stunned. Not shaken. No, not guilt. I save that for the people closest to me, and I pray they never take this path. How do we catch and prevent suicide if a person is determined to kill himself and not utter a single word or hands out a clue? We can catch depression, and try to help, but it takes a village (and a duty roster) to be there for a depressed friend. Being there 24/7 for a depressed friend can and will suck the life out of you, even if the friend is closer than kin and there's love to buffer it all.

又一頓住家菜 :: 豬肝排骨

Toddled down to the wet market to check out what they had. Surprisingly, I wasn't looking for fish. I wanted to buy pork, lots of it. I was going to make a batch of jiaozi to freeze, and do sweet and sour pork for the friends for dinner the next day. Since the butcher was happy to help me chop up the meat, I didn't mind taking additional cuts of meat in the form of spare ribs and pork liver. I could cook those for dinner tonight.

The spare ribs were something I recalled from childhood, and this was the first time I re-created it. The man said it was a winner. Along with pork liver too. He loved them. Well, thanks! Sure, the marinade's everything for this dish, but it's really a no brainer. Everything uses sesame oil, hoisin, soy and Worcestershire sauce and sometimes, a wee bit of honey. LOL. Then douse liberally with either Chinese wine, sake or mirin. I tend to avoid five-spice powder and rice vinegar. I don't find them lending any depth or brine to the spare ribs and liver.

Since the man likes his soups, soup was in order. But it shouldn't be a pork-based stock anymore. Too much pork. I can’t deal with all pork dishes in a meal. Went for a light dashi with Manila clams and bok choi to balance out the heavier meats. #ImpieCooks2019

Enough of rice. Fried up beehoon to go along with it. I always use brown rice vermicelli. It seems less 'wet' than the white ones. Beehoon stir-fried with bits of pumpkin or bell peppers is lovely. I grinned at the dishes. They were honestly not too difficult to put together. I've already realized that the ease of cooking comes with running through the prep and logistics in my head. I'm not particularly worried about the cooking bit. It's more or less science isn't it?

Kwaidan :: 怪談

Came across Lafcadio Hearn's 'Kwaidan' (or 'kaidan' really, and in kanji,「怪談'」 mentioned in cavalock's blog post. I've watched the 1965 film when I was a kid, and I know the genre of 'kaidan' but I never read the stories in this book.

Lafcadio Hearn's life (June 1850 - September 1904) didn't seem to be filled with happiness although it was a rather privileged one. He seemed to have finally have found happiness in Japan during the last decade of his existence, which resulted in 'Kwaidan' being written in 1904. He became a teacher in a middle school, then a professor of literature at rather prestigious Japanese universities, married a Japanese wife, and even had a pen name of Koizumi Yakumo (小泉八雲).

 I've never read any of the author's other works. These stories in 'Kwaidan' aren't exactly categorized as 'horror', but more of folktales, mythology and legends of the old. It's a short read! It compiled stories of many types of yōkai (妖怪) in Japanese folklore. It also tells of strange happenings of love and reincarnation, forest spirits in human form, et cetera. Very quaint and rather romantic. The prose is indeed, as what cavalock said, "charming".

I was highly amused by 'Rokuro-Kubi'. The story tells of a samurai who cut off his hair and became traveling priest. He took the the roads and reached the mountains in the province of Kai. In the mountains, he accepted the hospitality of a woodcutter who lived in a hut with four other people. Of course in the middle of the night, he discovered the five bodies in the other room, lain without heads, and bloodless. He realized he had been lured into the dwelling of a Rokuro-Kubi (ろくろ首). The rokurokubi is a flying head that talks and plots and eats people. It's quite a merry little tale that ends with a robber buying a flying head from the priest and getting all scared when he realizes what it is.  

A day or two after leaving Suwa, Kwairyō met with a robber, who stopped him in a lonesome place, and bade him strip. Kwairyō at once removed his koromo, and offered it to the robber, who then first perceived what was hanging to the sleeve. Though brave, the highwayman was startled: he dropped the garment, and sprang back. Then he cried out:—"You!—what kind of a priest are you? Why, you are a worse man than I am! It is true that I have killed people; but I never walked about with anybody's head fastened to my sleeve.... Well, Sir priest, I suppose we are of the same calling; and I must say that I admire you! ... Now that head would be of use to me: I could frighten people with it. Will you sell it? You can have my robe in exchange for your koromo; and I will give you five ryõ for the head."

Towards the end in 'Hi-Mawari', we're suddenly transported to Wales. Ermm. Okay. That was disjointed. This story is written in first person narrative, so I assumed the author is kinda retelling a childhood experience. I was also thrown off by the final three stories because they deal with insects in first person narrative. Butterflies, mosquitoes and ants. From the author's perspective, he shares the tales of insects in Chinese and Japanese culture and mythology, and opines his thoughts about it. Okaaaaay. 

拜拜香港，再會啦!

There's no part of the city that's alien to me. Its tiny streets and lanes feel most familiar. Its colorful wall murals are hugely jarring to the faded old bricks, concrete and cement, but not unwelcome. I'm just tickled that nowadays, wall murals are used as a well to band a community together in a sort of identity. It used to be called 'graffiti'. Sanctioned graffiti have been redefined as 'wall murals', and firmly placed in the realm of mainstream art/

There's a certain je ne sais quoi to have these murals pop out around the city and back alleys that make me smile each time I see them. I didn't hunt them down. I purposely avoided memorizing the addresses and location of these wall murals. I wanted to stumble upon them. Well, Sheung Wan has plenty of them adorning the walls.

While I've never been in love with the city, Hong Kong is always a happy jaunt. It's scary how fast its social fabric is shifting, and how the political changes have swept through society till it has rocked the very core of steel-willed Hong Kongers who've built an identity over two generations prior to 1997. This is not the 'price of progress'. It feels like, an inevitable change in the make-up and outlook, the overall vibes and such that still has plenty to do with its economic tradeoffs.

It's been great catching up with the friends, watching shows at the Arts Festival, strolling its streets and even getting into an exercise routine. Heh. I leave with a little heartache (bye bye Leica Q), but with more insights gained, again. Traveling always opens my eyes to joyful little things elsewhere in the world. Hong Kong always gives me that bit of nostalgia in a way that clinical and sanitary Singapore never does.

324 Shanghai Street, Yau Ma Tei.
Italian artist Pixelpancho's wall art for art festival HKWalls 2017.

Bar of the Trip- Alvy's

We didn't have any particular bars to check out. There isn't a need to. We simply hung out at wherever convenient, with the caveat- it cannot be fancy. For the friends, they said that once done with their work day, they didn't want to sit at bars in Central anymore. Hahahah. Okaaaay.

We found ourselves in Sai Wan lots this trip. Even found a comfy bar in Kennedy Town to hang out at with the friends- the one-year-old Alvy's that has decent beers on tap, a huge range of American whiskey and small batch bourbon, and gin, and trots out good sourdough pizzas via their brick oven named 'The Big Red Bitch'. The staff wore tees printed with a statement on the back- 'NO SLICES'. LOL It's an unassuming neighborhood bar and exudes quite comfy vibes. We returned thrice.

I have no idea why the man is all excited about being in Hong Kong on a short trip only to get a pizza. Of course the friends were more than keen to indulge him since they're always up for pizza. They like the ones at Alvy's. Why is pizza so popular? Luckily (for me) I'm usually fed and happy before arriving at Alvy's. I can't quite do bar food anymore especially if they're all fried. If I make the mistake of doing fried pub grub and beer, in about three hours, my stomach would totally rebel and I'd get the runs from all the oil.

Plenty of beers and imperial stouts here. I'm spoilt for choice by the many taps. The other night, after a boisterous dinner at Yardbird (where I was traumatized by way too much chicken), we adjourned to Alvy's to 'wind down'. I felt bloated and skipped the beer. Opted for a gin and tonic. Two glasses and great conversation and company sufficed for a pleasant night out.

正斗潮州滷鵝

Gave in to one meal of braised goose (滷鵝). We visited friends at their home in Sai Wan for snacks and drinks. Then we decided to pop down the street for a quick supper before heading back to the hotel. Skipped the long queue at Sheung Hei Claypot Rice「囍煲仔小菜」and went across to「正斗潮州滷鵝」.

The man couldn't resist a whole plateful of innards- liver, gizzard and intestines. I thought they were a bit... smelly. Hahahaha. I can't quite manage innards except a select few in specific cooking methods, say, grilled chicken hearts, sambal paru, peppery pig stomach soup, and that's about it. I don't touch pig's intestines, chicken gizzards or whatever sweetmeats.

No regrets for this meal. The table ordered individual plates instead of sharing plates. Easier lah. This eatery is tiny and caters mainly to takeouts. I had breast meat with the pickles, salted vegetables, tofu and braised egg. The skin was a tad gamey for me, so I pushed those aside. Otherwise, it was an extremely satisfying meal. Again, a sambal belchan of sorts would have been very nice. Hahahah.

Hey Megaformers!

I eagerly looked forward to hopping into H-Kore for its Megaformers (by Lagree Fitness). I hadn’t done this for a year! It would jog my muscles into a new way of moving against resistance. The side planks were killer. After the first class, my armpits (teres minor and serratus anterior) were aching like crazy. Surprisingly, the glutes and inner thighs were fine. Hurhurhur.

I go into H-Kore on week days. I didn't bother to request for private sessions. This isn't quite pilates, and I didn't need the instructor's touch. The off-peak (9.30am or 10.30am) group classes were fine for me; there's never a full class of 15. Since it’s a group class, I don’t expect the instructor to specially attend to me, so I work harder in the sense that I'd be more conscious of how many reps I choose to do within the allocated 20 or 30 seconds, and I might just force myself to push a little more. Extremely effective. The muscles were like, woah, new moves, work work work.

I enjoy the sets of exercises on the Megaformer. They truly train the core, maintain stability and build strength. Planks, twists, planks, pikes and planks. BUT, these exercises don’t meet my needs when it comes to maintaining flexibility and strength. Pilates still nail it beautifully for me. While I wouldn’t mind popping into Megaformer classes, those aren’t likely to become part of the regular routine in Singapore. The Megaformer is designed to be quite unlike the Reformer, really. It hits a different set of exercise goals.

When the weekend rolled around, the man decided to ditch the hotel gym and give H-Kore a shot too. He bravely went for two classes on consecutive days. I'm soooo glad he was curious and open enough to check out the Megaformer. He should mix up his exercise routine and focus more on strengthening the core. He's quite annoyed that I can out-plank him any day still. Hahahaha.

The man came away with aching glutes and inner thighs (adductor muscles), and the realization that his obliques are in serious need of strengthening. He sweated buckets. He thought it more challenging than the exercises on the Pilates Reformer. He was wowed to the extent that he said if H-Kore indeed sets up in Singapore next year, he would sign up for a term of maybe 10 classes to supplement his HIIT workouts at the gym. Waaaah.

來香港買海味

"Can we buy dried oysters?" the man asked eagerly. For a dude who didn't grow up eating Cantonese or much Chinese food, he really loves dried oysters (蠔豉) in soups and rice and chap chye. My first reaction was like, "Okay! I also want dried squid and waxed duck!" Since we wouldn't be buying that much, I figured we would just pop in to Sheung Wan instead of going out to the islands or Sai Kung.

Then I was like, 'OMG. What have we become?' 🤦🏻‍♀️ We travel out of town to buy groceries. Well done, impie. Hahahah. I already have lupcheong and yuncheong. Why not buy more stuff?! We do have luggage space. The dried seafood would be nicely sealed in vacuum packs. There's a nice big fridge in the hotel room that could store all these purchases till the flight home.

Our morning was packed. But we were free from noon. Off shopping we went! Stocked up on all the dried stuff—Oysters, mushooms, and such. Got a few pieces of waxed duck breast. Wheeeee. Hadn't had that for more than a year. Damn, those aged tangerine peels from Xinhui, Guangdong (廣東新會陳皮) are really expensive. Skipped the dried scallops. Those scallops aren't very much cheaper than what I can find in Singapore, and importantly, the quality isn't higher. Why waste luggage space.

We had no lunch plans for the afternoon; figured that we'd simply pop into any random eatery that looked decent. We strolled out from Central, meandered through Sheung Wan all the way up to Tai Ping Shan Street because I wanted to visit Mount Zero bookshop (見山書店). Then we rounded over sideways to Sai Ying Pun. At these temperatures on a cloudy day, it was a nice long stroll through the neighborhoods. And this afternoon, I felt the loss of the camera keenly till the ache is almost piercing. I missed having a Leica on hand to shoot.

Mido Cafe :: 美都餐室

The man was reading all about Lan Fong Yuen (蘭芳園) and the closing and then the not-closing of Lin Heung Tea House (蓮香樓). The thing is, the man likes the Hong Kong style cold milk tea and wouldn't mind a cup from these eateries, he wouldn't want to queue up for it.

I don't fancy milk tea or dim sum. While I've visited all these cha chaan teng (茶餐廳) and didn't mind the experiences or their food, I don't exactly have this thing about eating there each time I'm in town. I'm not fussed that it's closing down because I have no memories or sentiments about them. I rather go to a less crowded and quieter cha chaan teng in a residential area and have a meal or a snack in relative peace.

The man has not been to Mido Cafe (美都餐室). Neither has he heard of it. I wouldn't bother to regale him with tales of Temple Street and Yau Ma Tei of the old. Hurhurhur. When we went, the crowds and tourists didn’t know that Lin Heung wasn't closing down after all, so the queues all went there. Mido Cafe was blissfully quiet at 下午茶.

We've had lunch. We came here to snack. YET, the man happily ordered an ox-tongue tomato rice (茄汁牛脷飯). WIN LOR. He took two bites and promptly wolfed everything down. I took a spoonful and was suitably wowed. I've never ordered this here. The ox-tongue was tender, and the tomato gravy was tangy and not totally sweet. It was pretty delicious!

I had space for a milk tea, and a pineapple bun (菠蘿包). With a generous slab of butter, of course. Mido Cafe's pineapple bun is more savory than sweet, and it's about the rare few places that I would eat a 菠蘿包 at.

I'm quite fond of Mido Cafe. It holds memories because when I was a small imp, the grandparents took me along on their visits to this cafe. The grandparents were very fond of this cafe and would always stop by whenever they were in the city. Mido Cafe has fed me many plates of satisfying 餐肉蛋飯. Nobody shouted at me all these years. I can deal with curt. I ain't that friendly anyway. Hahaha. I would be a wee bit nostalgic if this cha chaan teng closes down.

《就係香港》

I was determined to hunt down a magazine that I wanted. I didn't ship it into Singapore because the shipping cost was twice the retail price. Naaah. When this last-minute trip happened, I was thrilled.

To my horror, the magazine was sold out at many of its designated retail points.  I knew it would take some effort to find a retail point but it took more effort than assumed. I zipped in to the bookstores first, and they were actually out of stock! Ugh. I finally found two last copies at a newspaper stand in Central, outside GAP, right across from H-Kore.

I sought the first edition of said independent magazine titled 'Being Hong Kong'《就係香港》. The first edition 'Winter 2018 / 2018 冬' did a print run offering two differently designed covers. The magazine features the stories of Hong Kong and its people, presenting it in a series of reflective essays, written in traditional Chinese script (繁體漢字). As it is with independent publishers and magazines, you never know if they can continue production beyond the first year or two, so I really wanted to stock up on as many issues as possible.

I'm already nostalgic about the traditional Chinese Han script. I like it very much, and am trying to amass a bit of a book collection in this script. But only Taiwan and Hong Kong use it now. (Yes, I'm disregarding Macau.) That's an estimated 23 million + 7 million people who should be versed in writing the script. People who practice calligraphy and such would still be sentimental about it, I suppose. However, China is extremely forceful. We know the political implications and stories. Depending on how the political winds blow, this script might be archived as a historical quirk in two generations. Who knows.

The magazine is active on social media, showing us comments and photos of a slice of Hong Kong that the writers know. These are sides of the city that I've come to appreciate. These make up a Hong Kong that's fast disappearing. Since 1997, Hong Kong has faced waves and waves of enormous social changes, and not all are for the better, based on our current understanding of the world.

The stories it has chosen for this first edition are impressive. They trace the different ethnic races that make up the city, in spite of its 92% Chinese majority. The stories take readers to view how Hong Kong has developed through the years. Human faces and experiences underline each story, right down to ecological balance, academics and environment advocates. When I finished all the stories, I get the distinct sense that all these, the Hong Kong as we know, might cease to exist as China exerts greater influence and pressure on the city. I fear Hong Kong might become a Guangzhou or a Shenzhen. Clearly, these are subjective views.

Coffee Beans

The coffeeshop for this trip was all about The Cupping Room. I didn't go out of my way to look for it. But its Wan Chai outlet happened to be the closest decent coffeeshop along my daily route, and I really like this one over of its other two in Cochrane Street (Central) and Sheung Wan. Didn't bother hitting the roastery that's also located in Sheung Wan, two streets away from its cafe.

Most mornings, the complimentary Nespresso capsules in the room do the job fine. They cleverly stocked up our favorite flavors. Coffeeshops are only for the afternoons when I need one more shot of caffeine. I did hop into the Central outlet of The Cupping Room when I needed a cold and hip lunch. It arrived in the form of coconut chia seed pudding with seasonal fruits. Hurhurhur.

Checked out The Cupping Room's roasting schedule because I wanted to buy beans. J wanted a Rwanda Rulindo or Peruvian Quiquera reserve. They had plenty of stock for her. As usual, I'm not one to hoard beans. Bought two packets for myself. Somehow the Geishas don't do anything for the tastebuds. So I also chose a Quiquera reserve, and picked out an Ethiopian/Colombian Attaboy. These should last nicely till end of March.

任務臘腸膶肠 :: 「蛇王芬」

To our horror, in January, the BFF and I realized that we've finished our stash of Chinese sausages and liver sausages. We don't buy lupcheong and yuencheong from any shop in Singapore, preferring to get them from Hong Kong. Luckily this trip came up. So the BFF sent me on 'Mission Lupcheong'. She sent me a restaurant's name and a link. Her accompanying one-line text read, "Don't come back if you fail." Pfffft. How to fail??! If it has an address on Google, there's no shop I cannot find in Hong Kong. Unless the restaurant is closed, of which I'll simply walk over to Wo Hing (和興臘味家) or some other 'famous' shop selling preserved meats.

This time, the BFF picked 'Ser Wong Fun', 「蛇王芬」. Besides buying lupcheong and yuencheong (臘腸膶肠), I also ended up eating there when the man suddenly texted to say he was at Central and done with meetings, and wanted join me for lunch, and a colleague K would be tagging along. Clever ah, both of them. Came to join me and didn't have to speak a word to order food. I didn't ask if the restaurant had an English menu. I simply read off the Chinese ones tucked under the glass on the table.

Sure, this is a shop that does snake soup (蛇羹) and such. We're totally not interested in that. Neither were we interested in their other dishes which looked pretty good as they were ordered and trotted out to other tables. We were here for the restaurant's one-dish combo lunch plates. Soya sauce chicken and liver sausages for the man, and the same dish for K, but with regular sausages. I learnt that the man loves the green dip that comes with soya sauce chicken. The restaurant's ginger scallion sauce (薑蔥蓉) was ridiculously tasty, and salty. The man asked if I could replicate it. 😐

The men shared a pig's lung soup. Hurhurhur. They never had it before in their lives, and they were so curious about it. They actually loved it. LOL. I had a regular unadventurous old cucumber pork rib soup. I went for broke and ordered braised goose and lupcheong. It was quite delicious. I ignored the weird too-sweet plum sauce. If only restaurants here offered sambal instead of XO sauce. Hahahah. I forgot to bring my own sambal to Hong Kong on this trip. :P