Breakfast at Dempsey

I blinked when the man announced that he would be taking leave for the week to celebrate Choya's birthday. Hahahaha. She doesn't know that it's her birthday, or what a birthday is. He intends to take her out to our parks for nice walks every day. He's so silly. We always do that for the girl anyway. We don't place her secondary to our schedules. She has priority over our schedules. Heh.

Alrighty, breakfast would be the first order of the day. The man loves a hearty breakfast, but he never gets that at home now. The only one getting a hearty awesome breakfast is the dog. A weekday breakfast is more welcomed than on the weekend because it would be less crowded. That would feel absolutely luxurious. We popped out for breakfast at Dempsey, and there would be plenty of green for the dog. There was a light drizzle, but nothing daunting.

I was surprised that within two weeks, Jones the Grocer at Dempsey changed hands and a name to become The Dempsey Project. Okaaaaay. Well, I wasn't keeping up with the news anyway, so I wouldn't have known. Venue, layout, furniture and all are still the same. The menu has been tweaked, but the previous food items and even the familiar servers largely remain. We walked in without a reservation. Figured that at 8.30am, the crowded venue would be Baker and Cook down the road and not here. There were plenty of available tables, and we had an ideal one at the back that was quiet enough for the dog.

It has been a while since I've had a good mix of smashed avocado on toast, or sit down to leisurely sip a well-brewed piccolo latte. The Dempsey Project's sprinkling of feta and dukkah atop the smashed avocado is exactly like what Jones the Grocer trotted out. I do like this combination. They never fail to make avocado tastier. I don't usually do that combination at home. At home, I do a ton of raw shallots and salt. But commercial cafes won't do that since not that many people love raw shallots or that much salt. Hurhurhur.

'Rock the Boatyani'

Popped into 'Rock the Boatyani' hosted by Smith Street Taps & Friends. The man was interested in both food and beer. I was only interested in the food. They're offering biryani from K.R. Banana Leaf (two stalls down) to pair with the beers. The beer company is launching four new and apparently very rare, sour ales from Boatrocker Brewers and Distillers. 

The featured beers were sours. Not quite my type of beer. The four sours included "House White- a blended barrel-aged Wild Sour Ale; House Red- a puckering and complex Solera Method Flanders Red, a funky and tart Feijoa Rhubarb Wild ale; and Sternweisse- a double barrel-aged (French oak and aged in standard whisky barrels) Berliner Weisse". I also hesitated because, the toilet situation in this food center is frankly, gross. Each time I visit, I tend not to drink more than two pints. I stay for as long as my bladder can tahan, with a 20-minute buffer to get home to pee.

As expected, I didn’t fancy the sours at all. Don't understand sours, never will. Paired with spicy food, sours were tolerable. I needed a pale ale 'Daydreaming in Winter' from Deeds Brewing as a solid chaser. Hahaha. We had no more stomach space to get to the milk stout of 'Odin’s Brew' by 3 Ravens. Haizzzzz.

The biryani was good! We had a mutton and a chicken. The chicken was deep fried and without the red coloring. The mutton was tender, but yes, gamey, typical of the meat. The little bit of dalcha was decent. The stall kindly gave us sambal tumis with the egg, and also with our satay. And that sambal tumis, was pure magic. Run by Elizabeth Pospa and her husband, K.R. Banana Leaf Masala Chicken & Nasi Lemak also sells nasi lemak in the mornings. The stall is closed on weekends and Mondays, so we're definitely coming back to eat that nasi lemak. That "sedap sambal" is totally worth it. Mmmmm. 

Mulan, Disney, Uyghur & Xinjiang

The end credits of Disney's live-action remake of 'Mulan' (2020) specifically thanked the Publicity department of Communist Party of China's Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region Committee. That's the public security bureau that administers the 're-education' camps in Turpan, east of Xinjiang, People's Republic of China. The film was partly shot in Xinjiang. Disney and 'Mulan' have been roundly criticized for filming in Xinjiang where Uyghurs live in fear and have to adhere to strict regulations set by the Chinese government. 

Uyghur internment camps exist. These are no longer whispers or a myth. 'Re-education', Chinese government officials tout the party line. This isn't just an America versus China thing. A country's rules are one thing, but to haul people away into concentration camps, that's a whole new ball game. China has defended its actions by calling it a tactic to deal with Islamic extremism. Southeast Asia is keeping remarkably quiet about what China is doing to its Uyghur and Muslim population. (Tibet and Mongolia too.)

Jeanette Ng of The Foreign Policy thought the film's scriptwriters to have turned out shoddy work, creating a mishmash of geographic towns and myths that are largely non-historical. She wrote about the film in an essay published on September 8, 2020. It's a succinct and well-analyzed piece titled ‘Mulan’ Has a Message: Serve China and Forget About the Uighurs'. 

Even before the film—which was not previously known to have been filmed  in Xinjiang—arrived, it had blundered right into politics. Two of the film’s stars, Liu Yifei (Mulan) and Donnie Yen (Commander Tung), have voiced their support of the Hong Kong police against the city’s pro-democracy protests, thus sparking an online movement to boycott the film. Its arrival on Disney+ the weekend that Hong Kongers were supposed to have an election, now delayed as the city instead cracks down on dissidents and democrats, adds more symbolic weight.

But the rotten heart of Mulan as a film, rather than its production process, is the accidental regurgitation of China’s current nationalist myths as part of a messy, confused, and boring film. The title card fades into a location said to be the “Silk Road, Northwest China.” This is, of course, Xinjiang—here set up by the narrative frame as an inalienable part of China that Mulan must defend for her father, her family, and her emperor. That’s not the historical reality—or even the reality of the original poem the stories are based on, which depicts Mulan as the servant of a khan of the Northern Wei dynasty, not an all-powerful Chinese emperor.

.....................

But the film isn’t interested in actually being in conversation with that vast tradition. Occasionally it borrows a name, such as Gong Li’s shapeshifting witch, who shares the name of another cross-dressing woman warrior in the Romance of the Tang and Sui.

But it draws no meaning from these borrowings. Instead it defaults to a series of clichés the screenwriters seem to think represent Chinese culture; po-faced duty, filial piety, magic fights. And yet it arrives at the most depressing and narrow version of the story possible: Service to the emperor will absolve you of all your deviant faults. Perhaps that was the lesson Disney chose to heed when they made their location decisions.

All I have to say is, it's Disney. It's America. Then it's China. How could we have expected anything else but crap to come out of it? There's propaganda from all parties involved. Sure, there's more to this than simply being offended by it. But what's the best way to hit Disney with a stark message of displeasure? Don't watch it! Let the ratings drop! Let the box office takings plummet. (Hopefully the production crew got paid.) Please, it's a stupid movie that we can all ignore. 

Ziba Murat's piece in The Washington Post published on September 10, 2020 reminded us of what many people of Uyghur ethnicity and Muslims are experiencing in Xinjiang right now. Their languages, culture and traditions are being persistently and insistently eroded by government mandate. They're living under an oppressive regime; loved ones are taken away and go missing without notice for weeks and months and years. Her heartfelt and dignified piece is titled, "My mother may be a victim of China’s concentration camps. Disney’s ‘Mulan’ is a whitewash." 

My mother, Gulshan Abbas, a Uighur retired medical doctor, was abducted from her home in Urumqi on Sept. 11, 2018. Urumqi is just 119 miles from Turpan — a city that is credited in the recently released live-action Disney interpretation of “Mulan.” (The credit sequence of the film thanks Turpan’s public safety bureau, which is responsible for the camps in the area, and other government entities in Xinjiang.) For the past two years, I have struggled to get any information on my mother’s whereabouts, and I can’t help but wonder if my mother is being held in one of the concentration camps in Turpan.

Our homeland is beautiful and picturesque in many ways, boasting ideal scenery for shooting a movie. But it is also a place where journalists do not have access, information is censored and criticism is silenced. I myself have been denied any information about my mother’s condition or location. My mother believed that living a simple, peaceful life in service to others was the only protection from trouble she needed. But trouble came to find her all the same. This trouble was aided and funded by corporations that valued Chinese blood money more than integrity and human lives.

The actors Donnie Yen, Jet Li, Gong Li, Cheng Pei-Pei, and Jason Scott Lee and such, are respected Asian and Asian-American actors. It's inconceivable that they don't know what they're filming or the messages that they're sending. Perhaps they knowingly participated in 'Mulan' for the hype, for the glitz, for a salary, or to be obedient citizens to China, regardless of their permanent residency in ahemmm, some other rumored country. Pulling out of a film halfway without a solid reason (someone in the family died or they got injured) is detrimental to their career; which will be over in three seconds, when they piss off China.

The comments by people who've watched the film and all the trailers sent me into peals of laughter. Damn hilarious. I'll pass on watching this film for now, unless the film is readily accessible to me beyond Disney+. Hahaha. 'Mulan' is released on Disney+, which is region-locked. I ain't jumping through hoops to get Disney+ in order to watch it. It's released in a few theaters in Singapore, but I'm not going to step into any bloody cinema for till at least June 2021.

Sliced Fish Soup & Noodles at The Ship at NEX

When we're all working-from-home, we've all but disappeared into our little worm-holes. Glad that J and I made it to a number of not-weekly face-to-face lunch date. Wooohooo. Okay she can likely make dinner, but I can't, so I don't even bother asking. I ask her out for lunch instead. 

Suju at Mandarin Gallery always works for us because there's always something decent on the menu. Negitoro-don or its delicious shogayaki teishoku are my go-to lunch favorites. Can't seem to deviate from those! Suju is a convenient venue if both of us are in town, otherwise, a Skype video lunch meet would be great.

I've been popping up to Serangoon for a bit, at that lunch timing, If I'm already running errands at the pharmacy and supermarket, then I might as well try asking J out for lunch too. I missed our IRL conversations. She was more than happy to make time to catch me for a few lunches lunch at NEX. I wanted to go to The Ship. I like its sliced fish soup and noodles (thick beehoon). Depending on my mood, I would either have it with milk or without.

That day, I wanted to have the Hawaiian grilled pork chops (which probably sounded better than it would taste), something different from the usual. But as luck would have it, it was a rainy day. Hahahah. Piping hot soup it was. There's something appetizing about dipping those fried slices of ikan toman into the little dish of soy sauce and chilli padi. It made for a super comforting meal. 

Pushing On With BackBends

Our length and slope for vertebrae extend differently, and that explains why backbends come easily to some, and not for the rest. The vertebrae in the spine literally compress into each other as we bend, and the tension in our muscles, ligaments and fascia will also determine how the slope angles form. I didn't just learn this from Google. I learnt this through a number of seminars on sports science led by physiotherapists, orthopedic surgeons and chiropractors.

As we age and we lose our ability to bend our backs if we don't keep the core strong and utilized. As I do. I can still do back flips and such, but I find it extremely hard to contort into a flow series consisting of backbends. Without the push from competitive gymnastics and such, I don't have the discipline to practice it daily too. There's no reason why we would do backbends in our daily activities. Hurhurhur. 

I want to keep my spine supple. The pilates instructor knows that I gain strength through HIIT and other activities, as well as sort out the rotation of the spine at gyrotonic classes. So she spends time on isolating muscles to work the core and obliques hard. In focusing pilates practice on the flexion and extension of the spine, the entire session is given to warming up the core, as well as every muscle that is needed to complete a movement without injury. For that reason, the instructor prefers to have me do backbends in the final fifteen minutes of the class.

Hokkien Man Hokkien Mee

The man is very enthusiastic about checking out various iterations of Hokkien mee. I don't think he has a particular favorite type. He just likes to try as many as he can. I'm less fond of it because I find it super oily, and when it involves prawn stock, the thought of eating it makes my skin itch before the first mouthful. Also, while a plate is pure carbs, it's not pasta. I don't feel like wasting calories on it. LOL

We trundled down to Toa Payoh Lorong 7 to check out Hokkien Man Hokkien Mee at the 19 BrewCoffee kopitiam. There has been loads of hype about it, but we didn't feel like squeezing with the crowds to check it out. It was all hype. I really HATE waiting for food, much less an hour for it. So nope. I wouldn't bother eating at the stall till the crowds peter out. Also now, the good thing about keeping masks on till our food and drinks arrive at the outdoor area of the kopitiams- we’re saved from inhaling a ton of cigarette smoke from the next tables. 

Run by Xavier Neo and his wife Alice Lai, Hokkien Man Hokkien Mee has been open for a whole year; there's plenty of time to overhaul their logistics of meeting orders (dine-in and online) versus crowd management, so the dine-in queue now (with a buzzer system) is almost non-existent. We ordered at 1.30pm and got our food in less than fifteen minutes. I don't know how the Hokkien mee used to taste when the stall first opened, especially when they were battling queues and couldn’t fully control quantity or quality. This afternoon, it tasted mediocre. Nothing I would wait an hour for. 

Cooked wetter than usual (apparently to cater to the preferences of the elderly who live in the estate), I found no issues with the texture of the noodles. The stock was lovely and the prawns were super fresh and crunchy. Oddly, we didn't get any squid in this S$8 portion. The pieces of pork within were sad and miniscule. I was glad it wasn't the old-school type with a ton of lard. I HATE THAT. For an extra $1 and $0.50, we got a fluffy omelette and extra chilli. That chilli should have been tweaked. It doesn't taste that much like nasi lemak chilli anymore, which was the main complaint in the early days. But today's version wasn't that spicy. To me, it still leans slightly sweet. Heh. There're so many lists out there 'Best 10', 'Top 20' and all that. So I suppose that at some point, we'll all find a version of Hokkien mee that we like. My favorite is honestly still from Gokul!

Thank God Seventh Month is Over

I stared at this sleeping dog and rolled my eyes. All through the lunar Seventh Month (August 19 to September 16, 2020), this is the same dog that slept deeply when we're awake, but when we're asleep in the nights, she couldn't rest for those eight hours, as she used to do before this month. 

The poor girl dug and whistled, panted and trembled every other night, regardless of whether there's a thunderstorm or heavy rains without thunder. She couldn't sleep as deeply as she normally does regardless of how much exercise she got, and no matter what I do to try to tire her out. (Because, science.) She wasn't quite herself in the day either. Damn annoying that there were so many spectacular thunderstorms during this month. It also coincided with typhoon season in the region. She probably felt the barometric pressure drop all the time. 

Visiting restaurants is a slightly different matter. Those panic attacks started in the first week of July, way before the lunar Seventh Month began. She was only calm at restaurants that have their al fresco area entirely open. (Think FOC Sentosa and HandleBar.) She was undecided about NUDE Seafood. Haha. We thought that it was highly likely to be a direct result of the lockdown and Phase 1 when no restaurants were visited. Two months would be be enough to familiarize her with the lockdown routine. It was all nice and quiet, and heading back to dine at restaurants might be too jarring for her. However, come September 15 and 16, when we took her out to dinner, she was visibly calmer. After she checked out her surroundings, she promptly laid down to snooze. By the Rosh Hashanah, she was calmer when we returned to the slightly more sheltered venues. Over the weekend and the new week, she was back to being almost 100% calm at restaurants and enclosed spaces, even at O’maJ, which caused her the worst panicked panting and shivers.

If the cultural beliefs of the lunar Seventh Month are supposed to be taken seriously, then she should be seeing ghouls even in the day. Unless she sees many more in the nights, and the shadows cast by everything else don't assuage her fears. On two separate nights over the month, she anxiety-pooped because she couldn't hold it in anymore. No thunderstorm anywhere near this island on those nights either. (I keep a poop diary so that I could keep tabs on the frequency of the really bad ones.) Needless to say, we had very little sleep for the past 30 days.

Miraculously, right on cue, she wasn't perturbed anymore on the night of September 16, after 2359hrs. Over the weekend, she slept deeply. (She did panic from the pre-dawn rains but quickly quietened down when there was no thunder. Whew!) She was this exact same way last year during Seventh Month. WTF. The only stretch she slept deeply this year coincided with me drawing the sign of a cross over our doors and windows with holy water. What am I supposed to think? Next year how? 

Always be my sunshine girl, Choya. Don’t give in to fear, remember the light and love, don’t let darkness consume you.

Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him we humbly pray; and do Thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the Power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits, who prowl through the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.

Checking Out Godmama's Menu

Glad that the man's parents decided to order in food instead of cooking for our usual week night dinner. It's very hard to cook to cater to everyone's food preferences. We end up with ten dishes on the table with plenty of leftovers. Ordering in food would be much easier since the prep work is virtually nil, and we could easily check out the menu to see what each person wants. The point of eating together isn't actually about the food, I know. However, if we eat together often because it's an obligation, and each time there's nothing for me to eat, then it's only prudent to prep my own food when the hosts' kitchen can't produce it or if it's too much trouble for them. (But Asian hosts sometimes think it's an insult for guests to bring their own food.) 

It's very irritating to be asked to eat Asian stir-fry vegetables and then see a ton of shrimps or prawns in there, or learnt that chicken stock was used as a 'gravy base'. I'm like, 'don't fuck up my vegetables can?' I just want the greens stir-fried with olive oil, garlic and onions. But nope, it never happens. After asking for that for the nth time, I gave up. After a while of getting rashes and swollen eyes and such as a result of these weekly obligatory dinners where I shut up and eat the food placed in front of me, I put a stop to it. Politeness isn't doing any good to my allergies. I simply ignore every dish and pick at what I want. This means that often, I'll feed myself first, and sit at the dinner table and have a nibble but not really eating anything substantial. Hahaha.

Tonight's spread was from Godmama. It was the first time the man and I tasted their food. We haven't bothered with the queues earlier on, and also didn't bother to order takeout recently. There were ngoh hiang, babi pongteh, beef rendang, ayam buah keluak, sambal udang, chap chye, and way over-salted inedible itek tim, and forgot what else. I was pleased because I have peculiar food cravings, and I don't really fancy what this table usually eats. I specifically asked for sambal bendi and nasi ulam. I wasn't interested in any of the other dishes and wanted only these two items. 

The sambal belachan in the nasi ulam was sedap! A generous dollop accompanied the rice. I wished that there were more strips of ikan kembong than shrimps. Godmama's nasi ulam is not great. In this, the kerisik was unfortunately non-existent. There were way too much daun kesum and daun limau purut given. Of course I didn't take them all since I could separate it out. However, the restaurant's ratio of ingredients is a bit off, so its nasi ulam ended being not quite tasty and inelegant. I haven't tasted a decent Nyonya version of nasi ulam. Not in the restaurants, not in anyone's kitchen. My favorite nasi ulam is still the Malay or Indonesian Betawi iteration, and I can still get that at the local eateries. 

Ruth Bader Ginsburg 1933 - 2020

The family had just marked Rosh Hashanah in the evening with a lovely dinner, and the morning of September 19 in Singapore arrived with the sad news of the passing of RBG at 87 years old. Her body couldn't hold out to see the all-important elections through. Even at 86 years old, she was still fighting cancer and doing what she could for her beliefs and causes. 

I keep an eye on American politics, out of pure interest. But I'm never interested to hold a conversation about it at the dining table. It can be divisive, and for certain topics, I don't let general and uneducated remarks pass without challenging them. I don't stand for silly discussions that don't pull in facts and which aren’t substantiated by evidence. It's very hard to do that politely in a social setting. I've learnt to shut up when the conversation topics veer to politics based on what Fox and CNN reported. Mind my own business, so to speak.

76-year old American lawyer Linda Hirshman wrote a piece for The Washington Post published on September 19, 2020. It's titled 'Ruth Bader Ginsburg had a vision for America. Her colleagues thwarted it. — She died hoping for a liberal Supreme Court majority that never materialized'.

We'll never know RBG's private thoughts; neither are we privy to the conversations with her inner circle nor the discussions with her colleagues. But her actions and written judgments had lent a clue that could be in no doubt that she stood for justice and equality. With her blazing the way, there must be people to carry this torch, politicking aside. She had earned her rest. 

Why didn’t she step down while Barack Obama had the power to replace her? She was waiting: for a justice, as she said, who would resemble her. And although she didn’t admit it, we knew she was waiting for Hillary Clinton to replace Justice Antony Scalia with a liberal, somebody with a stiffer spine for progressive battles than the one Obama had shown. Had there been five liberals after 2016, she would have been the senior liberal in the majority, and able to assign all the liberal decisions. She would have been the closest thing to the chief justice on a liberal court.

But Clinton lost. So Ginsburg tried to hold on, to hand the appointment to someone who would at least do no harm. Now it is in the hands of the voters. In her last years, people made songs and movies about her, and the public bought out her bobblehead dolls. None of that mattered to the real RBG. She cared about the Supreme Court, making it again the engine of an expanding legacy of American equality. Sadly, it’s too late for her. Only the voters can make that happen.

The American voters are not rational. At least that's what a large number of voters in other countries think. The world has seen them put Trump into office and watched them condone, defend and justify his actions, words and policies. This isn't the America I know. And if this is the America that is becoming, it isn't a country I want to visit, not even as a tourist, because based on the color of my skin, I’m unwelcomed, and likely to fall victim to hate crime or be randomly shot. 

RBG's death has set off a furious debate in the Senate, and the future direction of the Supreme Court. RBG is a liberal icon. She has been criticized for 'murdering babies', and supporting women's right to abortion. Her seat is now empty. I'm horrified and fearful. If (and likely when) a Conservative takes her spot, it seals America's fate, the right to guns, no to abortion, affect jurisprudence, and pretty much sending the country back into the Dark Ages. Whatever progressive policies implemented in the last 50 years can be reversed. 

What America does, might be exactly the push that other countries need to revert to Conservative government leadership and policies. Don't ever say that Asia isn't America. Politicians of any government will use any ammo for their gains. Robert Barnes for The Washington Post wrote, 

A conservative replacement for liberal icon Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who died Friday night at age 87, could shift the Supreme Court’s majority markedly to the right for generations, and transform its jurisprudence on issues such as gun rights, affirmative action and the right to abortion established in Roe v. Wade.

More immediately, Ginsburg’s death for now leaves the court with only eight members to confront potentially history-shaping issues resulting from one of the nation’s most contentious presidential elections.

The court has already refereed a number of battles between Republicans and Democrats regarding voting rights. A majority of six conservative justices could potentially decide a host of other issues raised by the election itself. The court’s ruling in Bush v. Gore in 2000 essentially decided the presidential election for George W. Bush.

I have no words. I have no illusions about the November elections either. It's not my fight, but we will feel the ripple effects. L’shanah tovah tikateivu v’teichateimu. God Bless America.

On Rosh Hashanah it is inscribed, and on Yom Kippur it is sealed — how many shall pass away and how many shall be born, who shall live and who shall die, who in good time, and who by an untimely death, who by water and who by fire, who by sword and who by wild beast, who by famine and who by thirst, who by earthquake and who by plague, who by strangulation and who by lapidation, who shall have rest and who wander, who shall be at peace and who pursued, who shall be serene and who tormented, who shall become impoverished and who wealthy, who shall be debased, and who exalted.

~ Unetaneh Tokef prayer

Fixed Up the Shoe Rack

Never had a shoe rack because we do have a shoe cabinet at the back. I didn't bother to build a cabinet for shoes at the front door. However, with the addition of the dog and daily walks, I'd need to toggle the logistics of having a space at the front door that could hold a few pairs of our shoes for a quick run outside, and also to have the dog's barang-barang conveniently located for late-night diarrhea-runs, daily walks and clean-ups.

One year and three months of living with a dog have found some equilibrium, I know the amount of extra space needed for her things, and what we need to prep her for going out and washing her feet when she comes home. In a small flat, wall space is a luxury. While cupboards and shelves are great space savers, I try not to go trigger-happy with building those. I generally don't like frames on the walls either. It doesn't matter if it's a photo or a painting or a print. As long as it's a frame hung on the wall, it creeps me out. I love a blank wall. Calming. I try to leave as many blank walls as possible. 

When I don't want anything permanent affixed to the walls, IKEA is my answer. Bought a shoe rack. Of course I fixed it up all on my own. The man was of no help, of course. YAWN. I'm Miss Fix-It in this home. This IKEA shoe rack works for now. It's mobile enough to be removed if necessary, or be thrown out if we need the space for any other reason. The purchases arrived in one afternoon. I already have those storage containers lying around. Just needed to shift them onto the shoe rack. Fixed it all up in forty-five minutes. It looked okay. Not too jarring on the eye. The logistic flow of going in and out of the flat with the dog is so much smoother. Now, I just need to think of more ways to neaten it. Heh.

Super Good Chok!

I've pretty much shamelessly pestered L to cook us chicken chok once a year. I was blown away when I tasted it for the first time, and was subsequently wowed by how her whichever-pot-used and her total grasp of the ratio of ingredients versus cooking + serving time to churn out thick congee the way I love it. Of course she doesn't cook it to my preferences. She cooks it her way, and I HAPPEN TO LOVE IT. I love the consistency of L's congee. The logistics of readying a pot of congee to be served piping hot when we’re ready to eat are nothing short of meticulous. 🖤 

I haven't exactly found this sort of congee floating around at the restaurants. Even the dim sum restaurants' versions aren't guaranteed decent. Congee sucks ass if we do it as a takeout. I dislike it watery or those super smooth weird sort. This type of chunky (or chunkier) congee is likely found at home. If I'm not thick-skinned about asking to eat a bowl of this annually at L’s, I'll never have a taste of damn-good congee. 😂 

Rains came in the afternoon and acommpnied us through to late afternoon. Congee weather!!! Hurrah! We contributed roast meats of char siew and duck from So Good Char Chan Tang (of So Good Bakery). The shredded chicken for the congee was quite sizeable, so we didn't go crazy buying a huge volume of roast meats. Those were just meant as add-ons to the chicken. 

T and S brought dessert. They didn't bother with ice-cream. They brought a whole earl grey strawberry shortcake from The White Ombre. Waaaah. It was quite tasty! To my surprise, the cake wasn't that sweet or as dense as I had expected. It was quite a nice cake to end the meal with. The puff pastry base and the crunchy caramelized puff pastry flakes scattered over the whole cake were such brilliant touches.

I ate 3.5 bowls of congee. Yup, no shame. Scooped and ate. Repeat many times. Yes, the congee is always that good. It's total comfort in a bowl. 🖤 Ate loads of fried shallots and salted eggs. Loved the cuttlefish. Passed on the chicken (nicely shredded) but ate some skin donated by the friends. Heheheh. We didn't just eat all their food put out by our dear hosts. We also drank their wines. Oof. For a table of six, by the end of the night, we only drank three bottles of wine. Two whites, one red. No other alcohol was imbibed. Not even beer. We considered that a conservative win in reducing our overall alcohol intake. Hurhurhur. Our hosts are always so generous in feeding us and sharing their time and wines.

To Another Year At Sunny Heights!

After checking out Sunny Heights and its efficient and experienced team last August, the man and I had not stepped in again. Choya has been going to school via the school bus, and that's really convenient for everyone. It has been a full year of happiness for the dog, albeit 2.5 months of enforced 'holiday' thanks to lockdown Circuit Breaker and its Phase 1 from April 7 to June 19. 

Since it was time to renew the dog's school package (daycare, really), and we prefer to pay by credit card, we made an appointment to visit her school. Matched the date to her school day. Yup, we packed her lunch bag and did the school run, braving the infamous Bukit Timah area morning traffic. However, our school run timings are slightly outside of regular human children's school hours, so we were spared of all crazy traffic.

I'm in constant communication with the school and the team. But it's always nice to renew the acquaintanceship since these are the humans taking care of Choya, sending photos to me of her day. No matter how busy they are, they take time to text me. Apparently she isn't a troublemaker in school, and listens to commands and totally get pack etiquette. Whewww. But she's nosy as hell. Hahahah. "Super kaypoh!" Her handlers said. Okay can. That would do for me. Going to school regularly does the dog a world of good. She hasn't picked up any undesirable habits. Let's hope it stays that way. 😂

Got A Guinness!

I haven't bothered to meet anyone for drinks for a loooong time. Drinks are now an inconvenient slot in my schedule, so I did away with it completely. It's not convenient to match evening schedules nowadays or expect the friends to complement mine when it comes having drinks during the time when I walk the dog. (It's also not fair to the friends when I get to choose restaurants and we all sit outdoors in order to accommodate the dog. Except for the dog's Godma- she has no choice in this matter.) Also, I'm not too keen on sitting in an air-conditioned bar for alcohol right now, or even outdoors if the tables are packed too close together. I find it unproductive and purposeless to take this COVID-19 risk when I have generally cut down A LOT on alcohol intake.

That evening while walking the dog, we ran into friends. Pure serendipity. We all had an hour to spare, and thought we should get a drink together to catch up for a bit. The dog would be fine chilling out for a bit since we took a long stroll to get here. Found a bar within twenty steps. I was pleased they offered Guinness. The other bar we stopped by that night only had Budweiser and Corona for beer, and those were really shite choices. The Budweiser was only good for the three minutes cold. This pint of Guinness fared much better in our evening heat and humidity. 

This area and the bar we stopped at shall remain un-named since I believe that they didn't get a pets-allowed license. Our NEA/AVS are really strict about this license, and while I understand why, and I know how irresponsible many pet owners can be, I feel that outdoor areas should permit dogs, especially since the dogs don't eat there. NEA/AVS should fine-tune the rules in granting this license to restaurants that aren't operating as pet cafes, but simply wanting to allow dogs to accompany their owners. In this climate, the restaurants and bars are suffering from lack of customers, and they're unlikely to turn us away if we take a corner seat outdoors. For the entire duration we were there for a drink, there was no other table occupied. It was kind of expected and sad. 

Oysters for the Man!

We weren’t going to squeeze with the crowds and cars at Greenwood Fish Market’s Bukit Timah premises. Toddled off to its more spacious Sentosa outlet that has much easier parking options, especially when we took a 6pm seating. The man didn’t know about the ‘oyster festival’ going on at the restaurant. I knew, and figured he would like it. I didn't give it much attention in August but when it got extended to end September, I figured we should go slurp some oysters. 

I would take a few oysters too, since this meal already involved me taking a antihistamine pill, probiotics and even a charcoal pill. Hahahaha. At the rate our oceans are being polluted, it's not going to be feasible to have sashimi or oysters in the near future. We took the tasting platter which came with eight types from different regions; 16 shells in total. Too bad they were out of a few I really wanted, say my all-time favorite Kumamoto from Puget Sound, WA. The man was very happy to polish off 12 oysters. 

Instead of getting more oysters, he opted to have a grilled jumbo prawn and a whole chargrilled European seabass. Waaah. A whole fish on our table at a restaurant. This was a luxury we hadn’t had in a while. I refuse to order a whole fish at restaurants nowadays because I can grill or steam fish just as beautifully at home. I’m not restricted by the supermarket or wet market’s selections since seafood wholesalers now deliver too. The whole fish took a while to be chargrilled, which was fine. The servers did warn us about the waiting time. It was worth the wait. I was really pleased with the fish tonight. It wasn’t overcooked, and it was super tasty. Loved the mash and grilled vegetables that accompanied the dish — those were superbly flavored and grilled to perfection. 🤎

Parallel Lives Perhaps?

I hemmed and hawed over Elizabeth Tan and Jon Gresham’s 'In This Desert, There Were Seeds' (2019) before finally deciding to read it. There's nothing wrong with the stories. They're just not my usual genre, but I thought I should keep up with times and check out the trends of current writing topics. The stories seem to be able to traverse both Singapore and Western Australia. The content isn't that unique to either country. 

Twenty stories form this anthology tied in to the themes set by the editors in an open call on ‘challenges, hopes and joys for our future’ (Western Australia) and ‘Our Imagined Futures’ (Singapore). These stories are written by writers who are based in Western Australia and Singapore, and the anthology is supported by both Margaret River Press and Ethos Books.

Titled 'Harihara', the first story written by Singaporean Cyril Wong talked about the relationship between Sumitra and Vinita, two elderly women who found love with each other and lived together as wives for years, till Vinita passed away at seventy-two years old. In that vague way, it was written how Sumitra couldn't go living after the death of Vinita, who had passed away peacefully in her sleep one night. There was no warning. Then it hinted at Sumitra's eventual natural death a year after Vinita's passing, which poetically happened in Karnataka, at Harihar's Harihareshwara Temple, in front of the statue of Harihara. There’re two other stories that talk about dealing with the loss of a loved one, presented in a different manner- Tinashe Jakwa’s ‘Purple Flowers’ and Laurie Steed’s ‘Sometimes Close, Sometimes Distant’.

Sumitra remembers Vinita reaching out for her hand, as if unconsciously. They held hands with nobody watching them; in front of Harihara, a unity denoting (some say) different aspects of a supreme truth. For the first time, Sumitra felt a tingling sensation passing through her body (or, she liked to think, through both their bodies).

Maybe the tingling was love, or it started out as love, but it soon became altogether more (at the wake, not so long later, grief would be the catalyst leading to Sumitra's transcendence).

The statue of Harihara did not change its expression, but Sumitra could almost feel its acknowledgement, an emanation of approval.

The second story by Australian David Whish-Wilson, 'Vigilance Security', read a little like a mini-series made for television, almost like urban noir. A little chilling if I think deeper about it. It tells of a creepy landlord installing hidden cameras in his tenants' flats, his voyeurism, and eventually a murder and vengeance. 

For the last time, Nigel Brearley waves to the camera mounted on the blank wall. It is all there, recorded for when they come, when they find Beth's body — the months of Nigel waving to himself, talking to himself, observing himself and his fellow residents from a distance; the recorded images more substantial and enduring than Nigel has ever felt.

Some stories have an abrupt ending, and many expect me to read between the lines for its significance or how the protagonists' lives go after this. I don't do well with contemporary stories in an urban setting. I prefer clarity, and on the whole, the stories are neither something I want to relate to, nor what I deem interesting. The other stories simply ramble. If I wanted rambling, I'd talk to the acquantainces or read their loooong IG stories. Zzzzz

The last story in the book is 'A Minor Kalahari' by Diana Rahim. I assume that the title references the Kalahari Savannah in South Africa. It sort of did. Hahaha. When I read it, I laughed. It was a story about a watermelon growing in a grass patch in front of Mr Tan's house, and while it created wonderment for the neighbors. It generated huge discussion and of course the town council wanted it removed. 

Not a single thing had grown in the neighbourhood, in the whole island, for the past eight years. All that was left were rectangular beds of dirt and sand where grass, bushes, flowers, and trees used to be. So one must understand why, on that morning, Mr Tan could only read the presence of the watermelon as an omen.

Then, the watermelon was found split open. It was messy. Nobody knew if it did so naturally or someone took a fist or a hammer to it. Mr Tan and his neighbors Ms Sharifah and her son Raiyan took the seeds. They would try to grow another watermelon. While dreams had been shattered on this desert of an island, the appearance of the watermelon and its seeds represented hope amongst the grayness. "Somehow, the watermelon ruptured that hypothesis. The neighbourhood, the whole island, was a desert. But it was no afterlife. In this desert, there were seeds." And from this story, the title of this collection was derived. 

Caffe Cicheti’s Al Fresco Tables

I love it that Caffe Cicheti’s sheltered outdoor area welcomes dogs. (They have a permit.) Rain or shine, we’ll be able to make it to our table by the agreed reservation time. We get good pasta, and a decent dinner. The wines are okay, and the choices of beers are terrible. That night, we only had two options of beer from Red Dot Brewery, both of which are IPAs. Zzzzzz. Nope. I thought I heard a yuzu saison, but never mind. If you want good beer, just go across to The Alchemist Beer Lab before or after dinner (the beer bar also has air coolers circulating at its outdoor area; cool enough).

The dog was still shaking a little at this 'outdoor space'. Ah well, she has to learn to manage it. I have no idea what she's fearful of. We'll see. She was less scared when she hid under our chairs. At least she didn't stand and shake and pant all the way through. She did lie down, and that's always a positive indicator of fear levels. 

Ahhh, be warned that the gigantic screen above the area flashes useless ads and public service messages, and that light, with all its color changes, is rather annoying to people who’re photo-sensitive or epileptic. The restaurant didn’t put air coolers for its al fresco area, so it was a tad stifling since the breeze is inconsistent and doesn’t come through. It’s hot in the evenings and crazy hot at brunch. At least for all the times we come at dinner, there seem to be few people opting to dine outdoors. We seem to be the only table. At most one other table of two or three. Heh. 

Tonight the man and I shared the pasta of pesto spaghetti, and duck ragù in red wine tortiglioni with fennel seeds and torched cheese. Of course the man had to have some meat. It came in the form of seared Iberico pork with granny smith apples and kale. I was actually keen on dessert — the olive oil cake with lemon thyme and vanilla gelato. I really liked Caffe Cicheti’s version.

Diluted Essential Oils for the Dog

The jury is still out on the health benefits of essential oils. I'm not a fan of essential oils and such, for a very good reason. I'm allergic to them (plants, herbs, flowers, soil and yes, tea and floral infusions) the same way I react to shellfish. The usual rashes appear quite fast, swelling of eyelids and lips, weird headaches (I don't usually get them), nausea and vertigo. I don't like exercise studios that put out diffusers with too heavy a mix. While I appreciate a nice scent at the friends' homes, I cannot have that three candles (one is usually okay) or diffuser puff on for the entire duration of the visit. I will leave with a slight headache or nausea.

If huge amounts are ingested or breathed in, my windpipe will constrict, and I will need a shot from the EpiPen before hauling myself into the emergency room. This is probably why my home holds no scents or automated mist diffusers, except for those reed diffusers. Those will do, and I tend to choose the citrus oils or lemongrass, which are kinder to my allergies. Also, I HATE LAVENDER-SCENTED ANYTHING. 

Essential oils appeal to our smell receptors but I highly doubt it affect biochemical markers or our stress levels. Massages with essential oils leave me with rashes. I don’t have insomnia. Neither do smells relax me. Hahaha. But now, I'm taking a hard look again at essential oils, to soothe the dog’s anxieties and calm her down. I'm highly resistant to giving the dog injections or meds. She has fear anxiety and canine noise aversion. It translates into panting, shaking and trembling, and occasionally culminates in the form of liquid poop or pee. Scratching? Bloodied paws and floor? Yup, been there, and that has been suitably managed. I'll do all I humanly can to manage it. I'm not hot about feeding her any drops of essential oil either. Nothing ingestible. I prefer to feed her whole foods. 

Since I needed essential oils that won't kill me, I had to do some research. things to come was introduced to me when kind shopkeepers gifted a cute bottle to us at Christmas. I used it as a room mist but didn't regularly put it on Choya's bedding. Began to do so these few weeks, and she seems okay with the scents so far. I thought she seemed less nervous in the nights. The frenetic digging of her bed has lessened in intensity, although she still wakes us up at least thrice a night with that, and having either the man or I shout at her- 'Choya stop it!' Occasionally, I have to get up to straighten her blankets and remind her not to dig, and then she'll settle in for another round of sleep before she digs again. AAAARRRRRGH. Of course when the thunderstorms hit in the night, all goes out of the window. She turns into a nervous wreck upon hearing thunder.

Bought more bottles of mists. I like it that things to come is a Singapore brand and blend their own products. Their brand philosophy appeals to me. I'm happy to try out more of their mists and roll-ons. There's a lavender-patchouli blend that I'm very suspicious of. It's not about how strong the scent is. It's about how my smell receptors and brain nerves react to them. We'll see how it goes. things to come offer hiba wood blends, which I like. 

What I really really want is cannabidiol oil, or CBD oil. CBD oil comprises CBD and a carrier oil (usually hemp or coconut). It doesn't contain THC which has the psychoactive compound that gives humans that 'high' when consumed. But since CBD is a cannabinoid too, Singapore deems it illegal. The cannabis plant contains at least 113 cannabinoids. I'd really like to have this oil when Choya becomes a geriatric Shiba-ken. It would definitely alleviate a lot of pains and aches aging dogs experience. But I highly doubt this would be a viable option since our laws on drugs will take forever to get anywhere progressive.  

Blu Kouzina on a Week Day Night

We've more or less eschewed going out to dinner on weekends because it's tough to get seats and we really don't want to squeeze with the crowds. For the friends we love and see regularly, if we don't hang out at one another's homes, we head out to a short dinner on week days instead. There's some sense of normalcy in our lives, but we're living in a bubble. The city is in limbo because when traveling isn't open, and without the tourists, our economy could crash the moment more businesses shutter and people are retrenched. It's a dire situation for a number of people who have lost their jobs, and those who are stuck in a strange world where traveling and flying are no longer a thing of ease or leisure.  

All of us had not visited Blu Kouzina at its new space at Dempsey (they moved a unit down). Yup, it has been that long. The restaurant could only take us for an 8.30pm seating. Last orders are taken at 9.15pm. We'd prefer an earlier timing, but okaaaay, we'd juggle our stomachs for this. The restaurant was packed out, but they've gotten their logistics in order. We were quickly seated, and there were sufficient staff going around the tables. The kitchen also kept their standards. I do love how much more spacious the restaurant is now, and also they've kept a good distance between each table. 

There were grilled octopus, calamari and fried artichokes topped with balsamic cream. I wanted the dips and pita. Hummus, fava and taramasalata made my night. I've missed the wonderful dips and good pita bread. I could eat those and those only, and they would honestly make a great meal. But I couldn't pass up the moussaka. I always prefer a vegetarian moussaka, but for the table's preferences, I didn't mind minced beef in tonight's version. However, it was a generous portion and we couldn't finish it because we had plenty of other dishes ordered. Hahaha. So I happily took home the leftovers! Yay, lunch! Wooohooo. 

The table wasn't sure if they would go big on meats, so only a small meat platter was ordered. There were two lamb meatballs, one beef kalamaki, one chicken skewer and two lamb chops. (The platter goes up to large for S$211 with eight lamb meatballs, four beef kalamaki, four chicken skewers and eight lamb chops.) The beef and chicken were average. However, the lamb chops were good. Tender and full of flavors. They loved them so much that they ordered another serving of just three grilled lamb chops. I couldn't deal with the meats anymore, so three lamb chops were just nice for them. 

It was good to check in face-to-face with the friends. We text, we do video calls, and we also talk. But nothing beats a IRL meet. Of course we're still careful with who we meet, and we space that out as well. We've all got elderly, vulnerable and immunocompromised folks to think about. While we’re wondering how much worse the economy can tank, we’re also wondering if history will judge us for ‘over-reacting’. Ah well. A sense of normalcy doesn't equate normalcy. The virus may not be Ebola-terrible but nobody wants to fall ill. It was a lovely evening in a surreal world. Carpe diem, literally.

The table didn't mind having dessert. But we wouldn't be able to have a dessert each. Greek desserts are notoriously SWEET, even if it's a scoop of Greek yoghurt. There's only one person at this table who likes sugar this way. Hahahah. We could easily share something for sure. So I picked a traditional Greek orange filo cake (portokalopita) for us. It was dense and not too bad. The pastry chef obviously went easier on the custard and syrup. One mouthful for each of us at the table, and half a cake was saved for the man to take home. 

The Range of Spinal Motion

Humans have asymmetrical bodies; one side tends to be tighter or more inflexible. It might not be the same tighter side for all movements. Our muscles sling across diagonally, and different movements stretch out different muscles. No matter how strong I feel, each time I practice pilates or Gyrotonic, I'm reminded to work those small little muscles that fatigue easily. In all these exercises, the intention is to maintain flexibility in order to prevent any early onset of osteoarthritis or osteoporosis. Also, I feel really uncomfortable if the body is not kept well-oiled. 

Gyrotonic focuses loads of movement of the spine. There're six primary spinal motion — flexion, extension, rotation, lateral flexion, lateral glide, and circumduction (internal and external). Besides depending on the instructor to explain each movement, I also read up loads about it. There's a ton of information when one googles 'lumbosacral biomechanics'. Each Gyrotonic class takes me through the range of spinal motion. What movements these are, would be entirely limited to the creativity of the instructor. I'm lucky to have J who's a contemporary dancer by training. As a Gyrotonic instructor, she totally gets it.

I have a tight middle spine. The thoracic is extremely reluctant to move from T7 to T12. It partially explains why it's for my ribs to go under to do spinal rotations. Making the stubborn thoracic curl is a pain. Scooping to push out the thoracic takes a fair bit of effort and breath. Pilates is great for keeping the spine nimble (and the core strong), but Gyrotonic movements work much better at coaxing the middle spine to work harder than it normally does. They don’t strengthen the core that much or that quickly. This is not a weight loss program. 😂 Gyrotonic also emphasizes on a smooth flow, a soft 'undulation', if you will. That is achieved when the muscles stretch out well together. I can't seem to do it yet. Oof. Gotta stop jerking!

Pork Mole Stew & Red Snapper Ceviche

Had the friends over for dinner. Nobody was in the mood to eat that much, and neither can we cook that much in a small kitchen. Hahaha. A one-pot meal was very welcomed. We wanted to gather before T's minor surgery. They brought over a lovely and rich bottle of 2013 Amarone della Valpolicella Classico Costasera that went down quick and easy.

The man was in charge of cooking up his favorite Mexican-inspired pork mole stew. Used the pork soft bones and a few prime ribs, He thought long and hard about how many chillies to put in. Hahahah. We can all take spicy food, but we never want the spices to kill our tastebuds and not be able to taste anything. In the end, he put in two ancho, guajillo and one pasilla. This round, we didn't bother with bread. Basmati rice it was. This meal was perfect for the rainy evening. 

A hearty spicy pork mole stew should be accompanied by salad. Ceviche it was. Those tangy flavors would cut through the meats. The fishmonger filleted a fresh red snapper. I wanted it for ceviche. But when I got home, I realized that he packed us the fish head too. Okay. I'd use it as a base for broth then. Dried up the two slices of red snapper overnight in the fridge. The next day, they were marinated simply in salt, onions, lime juice and honey for 60 minutes. Then topped up with mango, avocado and cherry tomatoes. #ImpieCooks2020 

I never know the flavors that would turn out each time I make ceviche. I don't follow a fixed volume of ingredients. 🤷🏻‍♀️ The friends loved the ceviche, and forgave my crude ugly knife skills. Hahaha. The mix of flavors were quite an explosion in the mouth. The whole pot of pork mole stew was surprisingly decimated, leaving just enough for the friends to take a box home to freeze for another meal. I'm glad that they liked it enough to want to take it home!

It was a lovely quiet evening with the friends. None of us are keen to spend an extended time in air-conditioning in a full restaurant. If we want to have drinks, we would very much prefer to have it at home or at least seated outdoors and far away from the next table (more than fifteen feet, preferably). We haven't had anyone over for a while (not since mid July I think), so it was nice to see them and have a long chat over two fair bottles of wine. 

'Indian Matchmaking' 2020

There's so much buzz and discussion about the reality show in my social circle that I had to hate-watch Netflix's 'Indian Matchmaking' (2020), produced by Smriti Mundhra, and starring professional Indian matchmaker Sima Taperia. 

It's a reality show that skims the surface of Indian culture and how traditions are still ingrained in the diaspora. It's a show about privilege and more privilege. It completely avoids the elephant in the room- the social stratification caste system and the huge shadows it casts on every Hindu of Indian ethnicity, regardless of where they are born, and where they now live. 

 Season One features seven singles who engage Sima Taperia's services to find suitable life partners in either the US or India, mainly Mumbai. She also trots out face readers, life coaches and astrologers. Sheila Marikar's piece in The New Yorker's September 7, 2020 issue 'Sima Taperia's Matchmaking Business Booms in Lockdown' totally drew out the conversation between the friends and I. 

Smriti Mundhra, the executive producer of “Indian Matchmaking,” joined the call from Los Angeles. She had a shoulder-length bob; children’s drawings hung on cabinets behind her. Mundhra, who is forty and grew up in L.A. and Mumbai, had been tracking reactions to the series. “There are a lot of people tweeting that this upholds a very narrow, caste-ist infrastructure,” she said. “They’re not wrong. But, ultimately, it’s where Indians are as a culture, and I’d rather talk about it and engage with it than just pretend it doesn’t exist.”

I didn't really bother to go into the 'characters' on the show. These are real humans with real stories, and the spoiler is- nobody in Season 1 got hitched, which was the whole point of a successful match made. The show left it to the audience to be its critics, and decide whether to root for anyone, or none at it. It doesn't try that hard to do any social commentary, although it essentially is. The executive producer herself had a few matchmaking meetings arranged by Sima Taperia, but ultimately, none went through. 

“There were a couple people I would’ve considered, who rejected me,” Mundhra said. “I was never the ideal body type,” she added, “but I have light-skinned privilege. My family would talk about that—‘Oh, she’s a little chubby, but she has good fair skin.’ ” Taparia nodded knowingly. “In India, they still want fair skin,” she said, despite recent campaigns against popular skin-lightening creams such as Fair & Lovely. “They want good height. They want good education. They want good family—everything, they want. You know Aishwarya Rai?” she asked, referring to the actress, model, and former Miss World winner—“I explain to them, you will not get Aishwarya Rai.”

I binged all eight episodes of this first season. My jaw dropped to the floor so many times that I didn't bother picking it up anymore. I have no words. My Indian-American friends are extremely vocal about it, as are the Indian-British and Indian-Singaporeans. The diaspora has so much to say about this show and its cultural significance that I don't think I can contribute anything else to it. In Ritu Hemnani's piece for South China Morning Post, she wrote, 

So why are viewers rage-watching the show? Indian Matchmaking comes with toxic cultural truth bombs and blatant absurdities, and it skewers the double standards the country’s foreign-educated upper-middle-class. Despite Twitter rants against misogyny, colourism, casteism and beauty requirements, the show reveals that, in traditional Indian families, choosing a life partner is still very much a business transaction.

 

Plating Our Dinner

On many days, I'm thankful for the cooked food section at Isetan Scotts supermarket. They provide me with quick and easy meals that hit a spot. The deli section at the basement of the mall offers a rather decent range of bento, side dishes and predictable meats. The cooking style for these is conservative so that the food keeps well and travels well. On some nights, when the man and I have no cravings and don't feel like cooking, we get a takeout from Isetan Scotts' deli counters.

I had a full day of work and errands to run. I didn't have time to cook dinner. The man was stuck in meetings all day too, but there was leftover pizza in the fridge. He could easily sort himself out in the day. But dinner would have to be takeout. We were also too tired to go out for dinner. I was at Shaw House, and it was convenient to stop by Isetan Scotts. I was there at a decent timing, the deli still had many choices of bento and separate dishes and sides. 

夫のイワシの甘露煮の焼き豚。

Got the man simmered sweet sardines (イワシの甘露煮) since he really loves sardines in any style. Added a serving of protein in the form of yakibuta (焼き豚) as well. I wanted a grilled teriyaki buri (ぶりの照り焼き) for me. Didn't need any sort of Asian stir-fry vegetables since those are really easy to do when we cook on other days. Resisted a tub of Japanese potato salad too. Hahaha. Added on a side of hijiki salad.

I didn't even cook a thing. Didn't bother to do up a miso soup because I was really pressed for time. (Although I do have those powdered dashi packs in the fridge.) Steamed Japanese white rice came with the fish bento worked for me; there was a single bowl of brown rice in the freezer for the man. After heating up the various items and putting them onto the trays, I only topped up the plates with coriander and cherry tomatoes. Ta-daaahhh, a not-too-shabby dinner at all.

私のぶりの照り焼き。

The Pitch

Watched The Pitch and had to laugh at how well the actors acted out the new normal in theatre and the arts. The 2020 season is pretty much in the bin, for everyone. Theatre companies are all struggling to survive the year with no income. I’ve missed going to the theatre, and I’ve missed watching quality shows by Singapore theatre companies.

Written by Ken Kwek and Adrian Pang, the twenty-minute short snippet starred Ivan Heng, Gaurav Kripalani and Adrian Pang. They are hilarious. They played, well, themselves in their chosen day jobs, and their lines were witty. Gaurav, as producer, had to manage the egos of Ivan as director, and Adrian as the actor in a one-man musical. A foundation had offered to sponsor the one-man musical about mask-wearing and hand-washing, and The National Arts Council laid out rules for this show with live audience. This line spoken by Ivan in the middle of a tirade stood out, “how we as a nation try to sanitize everything”. Well. BUT, the play was canceled in favor of the foundation choosing to sponsor a telemovie directed by Jack Neo, starring Gurmit Singh. I DIED.

The names and references were hilarious. Loved the knowing winks. Wah, the audio and resolution of the play hosted on Vimeo are clear and very sharp. I was extremely distracted by Adrian’s hair. I really liked Humpback Oak’s ‘Circling Square’ sung by Adrian. I forgot he could sing. That was a good song Leslie Low wrote. (If you know this song, then we belong to the same generation. Hahaha. From Humpback Oak's 1994 album 'Pain-stained Morning'.) It was a lovely way to end the show. 

After the show, we donated again to the fundraiser hosted on Ray of Hope by Pangdemonium, Singapore Repertory Theatre and WILD RICE. We plonked in a small amount before the show. That’s what we would normally have paid to secure standard tickets anyway, SISTIC fees and all. Then we donated a second time after watching it; to top up to front-row ticket prices and a little more because it was excellent. The free live stream lasts till end September. If we're able to, we should all donate the amount we would pay for a Netflix or HBO subscription. 

Hello Again Chewie!!!

We went to visit S who is recuperating after rotator cuff surgery on one side, and a PRP + steroid injection on the other shoulder for the severe joint pain. We all went 'oooooooh' when he told us he was scheduling these two procedures, finally, after bearing with the pain for a year and exploring treatment options. The tear in the rotator cuff was large, and weakened his shoulder, limiting daily functional activities. Surgery has to be done lah, it's just painful, and always inconvenient.

S and N invited Choya to come along too, and poor Chewie had to be locked up in her room. Although some cats are notoriously not sociable, I felt a little bad; it is Chewie's home! We shouldn't have two free-range little things strolling around unsupervised. We could have Choya on the leash too, and Chewie understands that and will stay away. Oops. Sorry Chewie! These two hadn't met in a long while, no thanks to COVID-19 lockdowns and social restrictions. 

Of course we took them both for a very short supervised socially-distanced meet. Hahahah. Choya was like 'whatever' and she likely wanted to sniff the cat. She was like, 'hello hello hello' and sniffed everywhere, and considered jumping up on the desk. I scooped her up for the safety of all furries. She's always very excited to meet cats, but...... Chewie wasn't exactly enthusiastic. She was like..... "WOAH WTFBBQ OMG WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE!" Her fur shot straight up, along with her tail. Chewie was not pleased with Aunty Imp. 

For reasons unbeknownst to the man and I, Choya was rather comfortable in this home. It might be the vibes or the fact that she likes Chewie. Dunno. I was extremely grateful to the friends. Their generous offer to have her over helped with our 'behavior modification and gentle re-socialization program'. She knows S and N well, and has visited this home a number of times, but at this visit, I wasn't sure what to expect beyond her shivering and panting in a corner. The dog has been in this neurotic state of mind when she heads out to restaurants and other enclosed spaces including the friends' homes and especially at the grandpawrents'. I was stunned and relieved to see Choya walking around sniffing and not panting or being nervous. She was her usual curious self. She found napping spots too. Wow. What progress!

We were invited to stay for dinner to hang out some more. With drinks flowing. None for S who's on antibiotics. And the dog was in a happy enough mood and deigned to ask for food. She smelt our cheese. Hahaha. So we shared bits of mozzarella with her, and gave her usual air-dried chunks of lamb. We were like, 'you did a surgery and we came to party'. We win. AIYOH. The least we could do was to try to be neat and washed up the cutlery, plates and glasses. Quickly left after dinner so our dear friends could get some rest, and the little cat could come out to reclaim her space and feel less offended.