The Man in Black & The Tiger

Having an episode of vertigo that lasted a few days meant that I couldn't read and scroll. Reading things on paper or off of a screen was unbearable. Listening was preferable. I bravely attempted an audiobook via Storytel — 'The Man in Black' (January 2022) by Oh Yoonhee, translated by Sean Lin Halbert. It's a short story. It's a commissioned '© Storytel Original', available as an audiobook, and as an e-book on Storytel platforms. I quite like that. At least the brand bothers to put in effort to support writers and translators. And yes, storytelling.  

The book's summary indicated that it's my kind of genre. So I was open to listening to it. It was a curious tale of the supernatural and it involves tigers again. Okay, can. What is it about fantastical tales and tigers. Since this is Year of the Tiger coming up tomorrow, it's a nice book to begin the lunar new year with. Storytel used a tiger as the cover art — "The tiger in the cover image is taken from the anonymous painting from Joseon Dynasty era, during which this story is set, titled Painting of a Ferocious Tiger (猛虎圖), Accession No. M67, courtesy of the National Museum of Korea."

The book opened with a lovely description of a corpse found in late autumn. I began cackling. All right. This is my kind of book. Korea was once known as the 'Land of Tigers' in Joseon Dynasty. There're so many myths, legends and folk tales about tigers as guardian spirits and symbols of virtue. There're tales of punishment and retribution. Say, 'Legend of Dangun' (the founder god-king of Gojoseon), and as stone sculptures guarding the entrance of royal tombs. The white tiger is considered sacred in folk legends.

Cho Kyoung-ho is a body handler with the coroner's office. In a village, there were two deaths in three days, supposedly done by tigers. A third death seemed natural (his heart stopped) and had no wounds on the body. He's puzzled that a tiger would come down the mountain and into the village, supposedly kill a human but not eat him or chew him up. It was an unusual sort of attack, if it is indeed done by a tiger. Granted, the dead men aren't well-liked in the village and are somewhat of a miscreant with a gambling problem who knew one another. 

He sought help from his friend Seok-nam, who is the son of a "legendary Royal Tiger Hunter known far and wide as the only man who put fear into the heart of the mountain king, Seok-nam was supposed to follow in his father’s footsteps and live out the rest of his life as a tiger hunter" but after his father was killed by one, and he left that life to become a porter at the port. Seok-nam looked at the second dead body and ascertained that it was indeed clawed by a tiger.

“Beasts don’t harm people for no reason,” Seok-nam said, repeating what he had told Kyoung-ho a couple days earlier. “That’s the difference between humans and beasts.” 

“The tiger must have had its reasons,” the coroner said. 

“But what could those be?” 

“How should I know? And what does it matter anyway? Are you going to catch the tiger and lead an inquisition?”

And then, one night, for an inexplicable reason, through Kyoung-ho, who has no power to influence the coroner's investigations or conclusions or verdicts, we meet The Man in Black. He said he was the one who killed all three men, and he was just a messenger who served a higher master. The Man in Black told Kyoung-ho why these three men had been killed, and the murder they committed. A divine mountain deity dishing out justice, unleashing his black tiger servant to mete out punishment to the unrepentant mortals? Kyoung-ho didn't know what to think. 

And yet strangely enough, Kyoung-ho didn’t sense any humanity coming from him. It was probably because of this that he was having such a difficult time guessing his age. The man’s attire was also peculiar. He was wearing a black bokgeon top hat, implying high status, and black robes. Kyoung-ho had never seen robes so black. On his feet, he was wearing taesahye, which were only worn by aristocratic men, but unlike most taesahye, which were white with black patterns on the tips, these where inverted: all black with only white on the tips. Because the man’s jet-black clothes blended into the darkness, if Kyoung-ho had only seen him from far away, he probably would have only seen his two eyes, which were almost glowing in the darkness.

As the story continued, it seemed as though the actual investigations were done by the coroners and Kyoung-ho, as a body handler, had no part in it. Yet he was privy to divine messages and dare I say, explanations as to why these three human deaths happened, and were deserved. We delved more into Kyoung-ho's dreams or was he really having visions? He learnt more and readers got a clearer picture of what's going on in this village. We learnt of the run-down shrine at Mt Inwangsan, a mountain god that exists, and serving him faithfully, a black tiger.  

I really enjoyed this short story. It's got all the fun narrative elements in it, typical of a folk story, but well presented. It isn't draggy or incoherent. It's good storytelling. If these collaborations are the hallmark of all © Storytel Original/s, then I look forward to reading/listening to more of these. 

Is this all the divine work of some mountain god? Had the mountain god sent that storm to prove that what the man in black had said was true? 

Both frightened and in awe, Kyoung-ho looked up at the fresco of the mountain god in the shrine. The white-haired, white-bearded god was wearing red and was sitting upright on a cloud. But looking closer, Kyoung-ho noticed another detail: there was something standing next to the god with its back arched. It was a black tiger. Black fur, fiery bright-yellow eyes, 38 and white claws. It looked to be guarding the god like a faithful servant. Even in the fading fresco, those two eyes looked alive, like two brilliant torchlights.

The Embark DNA Profile for Choya

Choya had a DNA profile done as a newborn pup, which came to me along with her lineage certification and both her parents' DNA profiles. Now that she's four years old, I decided to do another. Let's see if there're any advances in technology or if anything has shifted in her genetic profile that would see DNA tweaks and warn me of certain health conditions that she is prone to, and not just what her breed might have overall. Got Choya a DNA test from Embark. Opted for the 'Purebred' kit. The kit arrived soon enough. Registered her kit with the lab. Swabbed her and sent it back to the lab in Boston, MA, USA.

I completely forgot that our useless SingPost wouldn't carry this package unless I got a letter from a lab for customs declaration, blah blah blah. SingPost, you really suck. I used FedEx instead. Hassle-free and frankly, more efficient. The cost to send the kit back to the lab is cheaper via FedEx, and it's more dependable than SingPost. There're two local labs who could do DNA profiling too, and not just for medical reasons. On ttis note, I think humans should stick to clinical DNA testing and not randomly sign up to third party providers for genetic testing. 

Embark proudly labels itself as the research partner of Cornell University College of Veterinary Medicine. Embark's co-founder Adam Boyko is an assistant professor at its veterinary science college. The college just named their newest facility of canine health center as 'The Cornell Margaret and Richard Riney Canine Health Center', thanks to a $30 million donation from Margaret and Richard Riney.  

I'm pleased with how Embark kept me updated when the lab received her swab, and that they were mid-way through running tests. The test results returned in a month. I'm vaguely disappointed...... Although I know these labs offer and how the results should read, especially if Choya already had hers done. 

It's a regular DNA profile which doesn't deviate from her original puppy. DNA profiles would never change. At least it's a a profile that I've seen. Her genetic line is healthy, with no known genetic mutations for now. At four years old, nothing much has changed. I can see her maternal line (which is the profiles of a zillion other dogs), and in this case, without her sire's DNA, they can't accurately link anything much. 

DNA profiles can't quite determine behavior yet. At least, for purebred dogs. That's something breeders do offer, and ethical breeders would know their dogs in their kennel and breed accordingly. For mixed breeds, perhaps one could attribute certain behavioral traits to whichever lines that are stronger. I'm forever thankful that Choya's breeders are gems, and her temperament is gorgeous. Her temperament takes after both her sire and dam. If only I could see how Choya's litter-mates or other siblings are doing. That would tell me so much more about her. 🧡🦊

Two Types of Claypot Rice at Jiang

Since Jiang Cantonese Tapas had an abalone claypot rice on its festive menu, we went for it. I was so glad that friends didn't roll eyes too much when I said I wanted TWO TYPES OF CLAYPOT RICE. I went for broke and declared that I would finish a pot by myself if they couldn't. Hahahaha. I could. I made sure I had plenty of stomach space for dinner. 

We didn't get that much food. Since there would be rice, we wisely skipped the beef hor fun. The friends wanted the claypot rice too, and didn't bother with anymore extra carbs. There were fried wonton, braised beef brisket and tendon, and a portion of fried quail. It was a tiny portion definitely not enough for four persons. But it was enough for this table since only the man and L ate that. J and I didn't. Heh. Quail isn't our thing. 

We chose an easy dinner venue so that we could quickly fill our stomachs with decent food. The best part of the night was adjourning to the friends' home to drink their alcohol. Kekekek. We were shameless. Had a nip of a lovely mellow 30y.o Balvenie, then I swopped out to a chianti.  

My whole point of eating dinner tonight was to eat RICE> Hellloooooo CARBS. Ordered a minced pork patty and salted egg claypot rice. And also ordered their festive claypot, which was the one I was after — with greens, baby abalones and preserved sausages. It was pretty good!!! I shall come back here to have it. The regular menu has it without the abalones. That's cool. I don't need abalones all the time. To be very honest, this is a small size claypot, I could easily polish off one portion by myself. 😂 *whistles

Back at HIIT After Vertigo

By the end of the week, I cautiously returned to the gym for HIIT classes, wary of vertigo returning. Took it easy for the first two classes. The recovery felt as woozy as the 'beginning hints' of it. I stopped the meds after two days, eight doses. But I kept up with the Epley maneuvers, which at this point, seemed to help. I popped in to a Gyrotonic class too, and that felt really good — the spiraling motions didn't upset the crystals. In fact, it felt like they slowly shifted back in and stayed firm. 

HIIT is a whole new ball game. Press-ups weren't and issue. Mountain climbers and burpees were a problem. The mountain climbers made me a wee bit nauseous; burpees made my ear crystals bounce. Walaoeh. I kept them slow. At cool-down, as the hips twisted to release any tightness, I also turned my head in a half-Epley to check on the ear crystals. Okay, all good. My vision is fine, no nausea, and no headache, and no cloudiness in the brain.   

I went light with the weights for the first class, and by the second class, I decided to use the usual 7.5kg dumbbell. There really is no point for me to use 5-kg when it does absolutely nothing. I don't even break a sweat at the end of the class. There was a set for 'unilateral lunges', with weights to press up as one lunged. That was soooo good using a 7.5kg — both to build strength and check in on my balance.  

My alcohol intake is already moderated. Dunno if I should decrease it more. Caffeine is the thing I should be wary of. Caffeine intake ought to be reduced too. I do feel a tad light-headed when too much caffeine comes in. The caffeine hit is real for me, and I still can't do coffee-caffeine after 2.30pm. 

Burrata & Raw Beef

It was splendid to see V! I've missed her company. I'm pleased that she took a much-needed vacation and returned safe and sound. But it wasn't so enjoyable when our ever-changing travel restrictions bounced her into a mandatory 10-day SHN upon landing in Singapore. Zzzzzz.  

It was time to chat over drinks and dinner. We went to D.O.P for its lovely burrata in 250g. Too bad that they were out of spinach leaves. There was only rocket. I wasn't hungry, and decided to have an appetizer as my main — sliced raw angus beef with truffle oil and parmesan cheese in light balsamic sauce. It sat on a bed of rocket leaves. Okay, that was too much rocket for me. I left most of it behind. The astringent rocket isn't my favorite salad green.  

The restaurant sent us a dessert of Sicilian cannoli and a cute digestif of blueberry liqueur. I decided to eat the cannoli, which was really quite delicious. I skipped the digestif. I cannot do liqueur. It's how I simply can't deal with limoncello. Same same. I stuck to prosecco for the evening. 

I like D.O.P not just because of the friendly menu and reasonably-priced drinks. I also like it because it's super convenient for most people, and it's pretty much all open-air seating. The restaurant installed plenty of fans to reduce the sticky humidity, and the high ceilings at its Robertson Quay venue ensured air-flow. It rained fairly hard that evening for an hour. That kind cooled down the heat of the day and made it soooo pleasant to sit outdoors with no air-conditioning. 

One Final Dum Sum Lunch

The BFF managed to snag a table for one more dim sum lunch at Asia Grand Restaurant before that ended on 23 January 2022. We aren't bothered with the CNY set menus it's trotting out, so she found a week day slot and grabbed it. Had dim sum with the BFF and her mom.

The BFF did the ordering and she ordered conservatively. Her mom loves chicken feet, and the restaurant's version in black bean sauce (鼓汁蒸鳳爪) was nice. She said to share, but I took only one foot and left the rest for her. She easily polished them off. Hahahaha. The Teochew steamed crystal dumplings (潮州蒸粉粿) were pretty good. I'll miss the cheong fun here. The flour has always been consistently rolled thin and lovely. 

I was only interested in the preserved meats claypot rice (臘味煲仔飯). The week day dim sum lunch order for this requires a minimum of three portions. Okay can. It took 40 minutes to arrive, and it was totally worth it. I had forgotten how lovely it was until it arrived. The plate of preserved meats was soooo good. All that salt. Mmmmm. Two types of preserved sausages, waxed duck and waxed pork belly. They also added baby nai bai. The wait was really for the rice. It was really cooked in the claypot to perfection. Where do I find the perfect claypot rice now??!! WAIL.

The BFF's mom likes the old-school dim sum flavors. Those are very hard to find now. (No, not Red Star. It cannot make it. The food is not that nice and it's ridiculously oily.) She does like the egg tarts here, so she had two of that for dessert. She didn't mind the molten custard salted egg buns (流沙包), but these aren't the restaurant's forte. Ahhhhh.... that was a lovely luncheon. 

Alrighty, Asia Grand Restaurant. Goodbye for now. This is a pause in your long history at Odeon Towers. I don't know your business plans or if the chefs continue to work for you. I hope to eat your food again and be comforted by your familiar flavors. Till then, I'll have all the memories.  

Miss Cassidy vs The Mythical

From the summary of the plot, I wasn't too sure about Meihan Boey's 'The Formidable Miss Cassidy' (2021), but I decided to give it a shot. I was pleasantly surprised! I shall keep the hard copy of this book.

In 1895, governess Miss Leda Cassidy traveled from Scotland and arrived in Singapore as a paid companion to sixteen-year-old Sarah Jane Bendemeer, the last surviving child in the family. Everyone else had died of 'tropical fever' — five children and the lady of the house. Only Sarah Jane and her father Captain James Bendemeer were alive. The Bendemeers' family home was not one that people wanted to visit because it was rumored to be haunted by a pontianak who lived in one of the many banana trees on the grounds.

Miss Cassidy seemed amazingly calm in knowing and seeing a pontianak in the grounds. She was also comfortable with all the folklore and stories about ghosts and monsters and the in-between world. She set her mind to 'cleansing' the house. She soon revealed herself to be a steely and optimistic woman of many talents.

Indeed, she was not afraid now, but she was troubled. Bendemeer House was echoingly empty, yet its stark and scrupulously cleaned rooms, with their abandoned children’s cribs and trunks filled with toys and camphor, clamoured noisily with the weight of angry memory. Death still clung to every corner; not the sad, gentle death of recently lost loved ones, but something far older, darker and more dangerous.

[*SPOILER ALERT]

⚠️ If you haven't read the book, STOP READING. NOW. 

The subduing of the pontianak and protecting the Bendemeers took up the first third of the book. I thought she was a practicing witch, or a Celtic shaman or something. A quarter way through, I blinked at this scene and the lines so casually thrown at the readers. What. Say what?! Miss Cassidy is hundreds of years old and has taken on various forms? WHAT?!!! The next few scenes finally saw a close-up of the pontianak and a face-off between Miss Cassidy and it, and I read "Sluagh" and cackled. Wow. I wasn't expecting that. So Miss Cassidy is fae and she was summoned by Maria Bendeemer!?! Wow! 

“Good gracious,” said Miss Cassidy blankly, “have you...summoned me?”

The old man regarded her out of shrewd, beady black eyes, and spat betel juice out of the corner of his mouth.

“Nobody has had the power to summon me for hundreds of years. Certainly not as I am now,” she said with asperity. “Whatever do you want? Oh,” she exclaimed at last, “are you Pak Labah?”

“Pak Labah,” agreed the old man in a hoarse, gruff voice. He stood up and regarded her calmly, his hands behind his back. “Eh,” he added non-committally, unimpressed.

“Do you know about the pontianak at Bendemeer House?”

“Pontianak,” said Pak Labah, nodding, moving towards his hut. “Nanti, nanti.” 

Miss Cassidy obediently waited. She could not move far anyway; the bomoh had cast a very small summoning circle.

Once Bendemeer House was cleansed of the pontianak, the family left Singapore and sailed off. Miss Cassidy chose to stay to find new work. We move on to the middle chapter in which Miss Cassidy worked for a wealthy Chinese businessman Mr Kay Wing Tong, and finally the last chapter where Miss Cassidy moved back to England, and a delightful little romance was thrown in at the end. Quite fun! 

Miss Cassidy had met Mr Kay at the wedding of his eldest son, and became an English tutor for his fourteen-year-old twin daughters. And now, without the Bendemeers, she found employment as a tutor to his family. And of course she subdued a toyol Mr Kay's sprawling Pandan Villa, and also saved the family's twin daughters from the grasp of sea monster Scylla who was the real owner of the toyol. And then she left to protect the family from Scylla should she ever escape her binds. Miss Cassidy is indeed formidable.

“Anna, this is not working.”

“You must be patient, my dear. A summoning is a complicated thing, and you forget that he is mortal and substantial.”

“I never forget he is mortal and substantial. It was you who said this could be done. I never entertained any such thought.”

“But you hoped, when you asked me, that it could be done somehow. And I assure you it can. But you cannot get frustrated. Remember, when the old priestesses summoned your folk, they were willing to wait many hours in salt circles, in damp mouldy forests full of insects.”

“We are not going to sit at this table for many hours. I haven’t the time. I promised Sarah Jane I would help her with the cheese today.”

“The cheese be damned, Leda! Something is missing. What do you think of, when you bring Mr Kay to mind?” 

The writer had casually weaved in all magical and fantastical elements into late eighteenth / early nineteenth century Singapore, and made it work. A 'Lady of Sidhe' in Singapore, summoned by another practitioner of the arts, and stayed on to protect. Miss Cassidy was believable, and it felt like she easily adapted into life in the tropics, and understood the cultural nuances. The plot's refreshing and unique, and it's pretty good writing. 

Needless to say, I thoroughly enjoyed this story. I kinda hope that the author does a sequel! Or turn this into a series! Well, not a 10-book series, but do a three-book. I can't call it a trilogy because it isn't. So fun!

A Saturday Morning

We stop by Botanics fairly often, either at the Main Gate / Symphony Stage area, or at the smaller but equally lovely Cluny Gate patch. Choya loves the greens and all its smells. She could pee to her heart's content at all the bushes; it's very easy to get her to poop here too. (She's fussy about poop spots.) 

Botanics at Cluny Gate is a super convenient stop for us when the dog needs to go for a grooming session at Crown Center as well. It's a 10-minute stroll from the gardens to the salon. Choya had a grooming session today. So we went to the Botanics earlier for her to have some fun. We had time to sit down and chill out, and she happily inspected all the bases of the lamp posts, and peed on all of them. 🤦🏻‍♀️  

Each time I drop off the dog for grooming at Crown Center, I'll lurk around the area to wait for her. Week days are not an issue since there aren't many people. But on weekends, it's full of big groups of humans. To be honest, numbers are slightly manageable now since dining groups are restricted to five persons still. Every cafe would be crazy crowded and I'd be hard-pressed to find a table. But I'm usually alone, so it isn't difficult to shimmy in. 

Today, I swung into Micro bakery & kitchen. I've avoided this cafe in the second half of 2021 because of the crazy crowds, long waiting times for coffee and food, and sullen service crew. I've stopped by to get breads and pastries to-go for the friends. I'm not that fond of sourdough, tbh. So I don't care about bakeries that way. I'm still a shokupan girl. 

Today, the bakery was not as crowded; there wasn't a line of people waiting for tables. The man and I had a spacious table with shade. It was a cloudy day. Still humid and hot, but it wasn't unpleasant to sit al fresco. I'm so used to sitting outdoors now. I was pleased to see a short queue at the counter, and a shorter wait for coffee and food to arrive at the table.

I wasn't that hungry to have a savory breakfast plate. The man took a grilled cheese sandwich. Uncharacteristically, I ordered a slice of chocolate zucchini cake. It was a decent iteration; it was still a tad sweet, but I'll live with it. I'm fond of chocolate or orange chiffon anything with olive, basil and vegetables. Oof. That went nicely with my cup of piccolo latte. We both separately caught up on our reading. Within 45 minutes, Choya was ready to be picked up. 

Vertigo is Here to Stay

Seven months after the first-ever episode of vertigo, I got the second episode. WHAT THE. I got this second bout of vertigo over the weekend. I kinda know it’s coming. So I started on the Epley maneuvers. But they didn’t quite stave it off. The ear crystals (octoconia) bounced, flew around the inner ear, and vertigo hit bad. 

I had four cinnarizine pills left. I took one at 11am, thinking to take another in the night, instead of doing it thrice a day. That one ingested wasn’t enough. It was also slow to work. So by the time I took the second pill at 5pm, it was too late. By 7pm, the spinning and nausea hit full force. I had cold sweat and slight breathlessness from trying to control the hurling. I only had two more pills left. I needed more for the next two days.

My usual GP closes at 6pm anyway. I had to go elsewhere. However, I couldn’t bear to get in a car to head to the GP. I would either puke all the way there, and puke out my guts the moment I get out of the car. 

The dear friends responded to my calls for help with the suggestion of an online consultation with Doctor Anywhere. As the world continued spinning, I downloaded the app and with a great deal of effort since I couldn't focus on the words and letters, keyed in all my information and signed up for it. 

I didn't care which clinic attended to me. I just needed extra doses of cinnarizine before I investigate this further. The world needed to stop spinning first. I got an immediate consult with a doctor at a clinic in Ang Mo Kio; the prescribed pills were dispatched and got to me within two hours. Efficient! 

I know, 'Doctor Anywhere' is an awful name, but hey, it works. Best if your personal/corporate insurance plans also tie up with the app's partnerships. The app had a successful Series C funding last August, just moved into a new fancy office, and will hit 1000 employees soon.

I had to cancel pilates and gym for the next three days. No caffeine, no alcohol, no bread, no flour things, no carbs, and keep meals clean and light and clean. I think I understand the hints now, before vertigo hits full-blown. I have a day or two of warning symptoms. They're not a result of a too-hot weather, headache, extra stress or whatever. These tell me that the triggers have been activated, and I should heed them, and start on Epley maneuvers + meds before the world begins spinning uncontrollably. 

My detailed annual medicals cleared me of many things, and I highly doubt the presence of any auto-immune flares. The vertigo doesn't come from inflammation of the paranasal sinuses either. My ears do ring once in a bit, but it doesn't seem like I have Meniere's. It definitely isn’t a prelude to a stroke. I'll probably toddle off to the ENT at some point to get a proper diagnosis. For now, I can assume that my vertigo is BBPV (benign paroxysmal positional vertigo).

Vertigo is now a thing in my life. I can't wish it away. I don’t know the triggers. But I do know that it’s debilitating. The attacks aren't mild, they last for at least three days. Vertigo is kinda embarrassing for me. I actually have to cancel workouts and lunch/dinner dates with the friends! I never quite know when it will hit, and I can’t quite guess my triggers. I gotta keep extra packs of cinnarizine in the medicine pouch. 

Back in the Studios

After a few days of being back at the gym, pilates and gyrotonic, the body felt in equilibrium again. When the studios were closed over the year-end holidays, I dutifully set aside time to stretch at home. Seized the fine weather after the monsoon surge over the new year weekend, and made it to a few 5km runs, and did a 20-minute sprint in the pool every other day. 

The first gym class of the year was HIIT at the gym. It felt great, and the weights helped to check that the strength remains. Deltoids hurt so good from too many press-ups and pull-ups on the rings. Fired up the glutes and hamstrings. Luckily I continued with stretching hamstrings and quads at home. Those are the first muscles to become tight if I don't intentionally stretch them out.

The first Pilates class of 2022 was the one that got me good. The pilates instructor didn't go easy on my first session back on the reformer and all that. As soon as class was over, I knew I would wake up with sore muscles. And I did. Hahahaha. Hamstrings were dead. The deltoids and the sides hurt — teres major and lats. It felt almost as if I did nothing to exercise these muscles! I didn't even understand why my deltoids would hurt when I had been doing tons of pull ups and press-ups at the gym! 

It feels really nice not to have to think about exercises or exercising, and have someone else do it for me. All I have to do is to simply turn up. By committing myself to these classes, at least I don't feel so sluggish. The middle-age slug is REAL.

Chose a Few 'Liang' of Bird's Nest

It's that time of the year again when I pick out bird's nest for the faeriefolks' parents who would use these, and whom have shown me much kindness through the years. Some girlfriends take them too, so they'll benefit from their parents' stove. Hahahah. Otherwise, the 'instant' bottles are good — those $90+ bottles with no sugar, and hold solid blocks of bird's nest. 

I kinda know how to choose bird's nests. It's one of those trivial 'skills' that I possess. Hahahaha. I can sorta tell a fake from a real, but even so, I can't be 100% sure about it unless I send it to the lab to break it down. Regardless of prices and the hype we label on them, at the end of the day, all I could think of is 'they're really just the birds' saliva, isn't it?' 

I like eating bird's nest more or less plain, or with a touch of honey or rock sugar. I know how to clean and boil them at home as a tonic or for dessert. It can still be done right without a fire stove or a double-boiler. I understand my electric hobs and how hot the pots get. I randomly do a double-boil with what I have. I'll just have to watch it. Often, I succumb to the convenience of the instant bottles. Good-enough quality too, and fuss-free.  

Still, I'm no expert since I don't work in a medical shop or in the bird's nest industry. I honestly don't even know if the much-raved about properties are true in spite of me quaffing loads of it. Prepped the right way, they're a tasty snack though. At the very least, I've spent a few days trekking out to the caves and man-made farmhouse walls holding the swiftlets' edible bird's nests, and watched the retrieval of nests, sat in at the mass cleaning up and packing for export, and was duly educated in what makes a good tael (兩) of bird's nests and its varying grades. 

One 'liang' is 50 grams. That would yield about five nice-sized pieces. Two 'liang' would be 100 grams. Three liang would be 150 grams and so on. Spent an hour in the medical hall choosing the pieces of bird's nest that I wanted for the various faeriefolk, and watched the staff gently place them into boxes, and secured all of them. Of course they gave me a nice discount off the stated prices. I've been shopping with them for years. Small boxes of bird's nests make lovely gifts to people who appreciate them. 

'The Wild Rocket Omakase'

When the new set of dates for 'The Wild Rocket Omakase' was announced, I quickly booked a dinner. I didn't even see what the menu held. I miss Willin Low's iteration of foods at Wild Rocket, so I figured regardless, the menu would work for us. Except for the pesto laksa. That would be the only item that has never worked for me. 

Held at Roketto Izakaya, 'The Wild Rocket Omakase' was an eight-course meal (with two desserts). It began with a mushroom bak kut teh, which was really mushroom tortellini in a little bit of soup. The porcini game was strong. I loved it. This could be a whole meal for me. It was pretty much dumplings, reinvented. HAHAHAH.  Then we had a tartare of Kulbarra barramundi, kishmiri yoghurt and chilli oil on a bed of murruku. Luckily I took an antihistamine, otherwise the prawn soup panna cotta would make me swell up instantly. The aka ebi sashimi and glass noodles sat in a panna cotta of rich prawn stock from the head. There was also a fried prawn leg that I gave to the man. 

Then there was a char kuay tiao and tau yew bak. I loved the char kway teow because it was something I've missed loads! It was the carb-free version that held thinly sliced cuttlefish for the 'kway teow'. They treated the cuttlefish so well that it was tender, and the texture was like al dente kway teow. The tau yew bak used pork belly, of course. The sauce was lovely. It was mole-inspired, and it did have chocolate in there. The base held bits of basmati rice and barley. 

The laksa pesto pasta made an appearance. It's still my most hated dish. I cannot deal with laksa leaves and pesto sauce. Hahahahah. Anyway, it was too many prawns for me, so this portion was passed to the man who merrily chomped it up. He loves this dish. The beef kailan was really beef tongue, kailan and palak sauce topped with brussels sprouts crisp kale. Delicious. A Sanzen junmai daiginjo from Kikuchi rounded off the meal beautifully.

There were two desserts — Pink Dessert and Ondeh Ondeh. I enjoyed the Pink loads because it was lychee sorbet with ginger flowers, elderflower, raspberry crips, amaranth and Calpis gummies. That was delicious. I love sorbet, and I do love desserts like this. The man loved the Ondeh Ondeh which came in the form of gula melaka ice-cream with white chocolate and a bed of fresh desiccated coconut shavings. But that plastic box and rubber though... 

'The Punkhawala and the Prostitute'

I waited ages for the National Library to stock Wesley Leon Aroozoo's 'The Punkhawala and the Prostitute' (November 2021). It appeared in the catalogue but it wasn't available to borrow or to reserve. No digital copies available anywhere either. What the. Fine. Went to find the actual book at the bookshop. 

The author didn't live in that era, but he did in-depth research for this book and wrote a fictional (and entirely convincing) tale young karayuki Oseki and Indian convict Gobind whose paths crossed in 19th century Singapore. We know the sad stories of the Indian convicts sent to the Straits Settlements as a cheap source of labor, and the comfort women that the Japanese army bent to their will. But the stories of the karayuki are not often heard. These are the powerless and defenseless Japanese women seized from their poor agricultural countryside and sold into the flesh trade across the world, and of course they were in Malaya too. 

The book begins with recounting Gobind's and Oseki's respective journeys to Singapore on separate ships in the maybe 1869 or so. Gobind was on a ship as a convict bound in chains (no idea what he had purportedly done, killed his wife maybe) traveling from India to Singapore and caught up in a rebellion/mutiny. Oseki was on a ship from Nagasaki to Singapore under the impression that she would be 'wed' upon arrival. Her father had sold her into prostitution. 

Gobind gets a job as a house servant to the colonial masters, a punkhawala. Oseki becomes a prostitute, a karayuki, at one of the two Japanese brothels on the street, and is known by her working name Panjang. They led separate lives too. The book centers on the year 1870 to 1871 in their lives. Their paths first crossed briefly one night at the House. Oseki was sent there to entertain the master of the House, and Gobind found her staring out at the verandah in the night. 

She is spilling her sorrow and fears. Saying that she is being hurt time and again by my master. Her voice sounds like it is drowning, struggling to come up for air. I might be the only one who can help her. But Renuka, how do I? What can I do? I am just a slave. If I give in to the urge to help, I could never return to you. My master would bury me in a tiger ditch.

The woman lowers the cigarette as the evening breeze returns. She looks out from the veranda and into the night sky. The cigarette slowly crumbles into ashes, which scatter with the wind. The cigarette keeps burning and wasting away. She probably knows that she has wasted her breath on me tonight.

I’m better off in the pit, Renuka. It should have been me.

[*SPOILER ALERT]

⚠️ Super Spoiler. Don't read beyond this line if you haven't read the book and intend to do so. STOP HERE.

In between the happenings in Singapore, the author reveals the protagonists' past lives and younger selves in continuous recollection and stirring of memories. Gobind was deaf and he literally had to live in a world of his own. He had mind demons to deal with too. He missed his dead wife, Renuka and his dead mama. Oseki missed her home in Amakusa and her father who was ironically the one who sold her into prostitution to cover his gambling debts. 

It's quite an enjoyable story. Towards the end of the book, I grinned when I realized that the author had managed to include the stories of yokai, and turned the stories into fictional reality in this book. Gobind and Oseki's paths crossed again one fateful night when she came to the house and stole from his master. The master shot Oseki. Gobind tried to save her, but he was tied up by his master. The master of the House had gone quite mad, fixated on hunting down a tiger in the forest nicknamed Rimau Satan. 

There was only one tragic ending for Oseki in her human form. She desperately wanted to go home. But she couldn't. She was grievously injured, and somehow not quite dead, and her body was taken to the forest to be disposed off. Her soul somehow transferred into the rumored and fabled majestic tiger nicknamed Rimau Satan.

Gobind was also injured. He could somehow see Oseki's soul in the tiger. What followed was a crazy turn of events which culminated in the master shooting many people to death, and the final death of the master. I wasn't very sure what happened to Gobind. The author kept it intentionally vague. Did he drop dead? Did he leave his second round of employment at the very same house that the previous Master lived in? Actually, I wasn't even sure what he did in India that caused him to become a convict bound for Singapore. He was indicted for murder, and I wasn't really reading the lines again to find out who exactly he was accused of murdering. 

“Speaking of Rimau Satan, whatever happened to it?” Matthew Little asks. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard about it devouring someone.”

“If you must know... Rimau Satan was sighted going up north to Malaya. Then it was spotted in Siam. Rumour has it that it kept going north before it was finally caught in China. One of my Chinese importers told me that Rimau Satan was sold to a rich man who owns a private zoo in Amakusa, Japan. He supposedly adores animals and keeps many exotic ones. Well, good luck to him keeping a man-eating tiger as a pet!” Bastiani and the other men laugh.

居酒屋で飲む

I've been drinking loads! I've moved away from solely having whisky. Not that I don't like it, but it's quite heavy on the liver. Nowadays, a glass of gin or highball works nicely. They go down easier. I can deal with three glasses of gin now, compared to none. Although I wouldn't term finishing a 720ml bottle of sake by myself 'light drinking'. 😬 

There's been too much food ingested and too many gatherings. On nights to myself or with the man, we take Choya for a walk in town, and pop in somewhere for a drink. If we bump into friends or friends are also game for a casual night, then we get a full table and a good chat. Drinking is a massive waste of time. So if I do it, I want to do it at a venue that welcomes Choya. 

Our versions of an izakaya works well for these nights. Plenty of drinks, and easy food. Light bites. Grill. Yakitori. Sushi rolls, donburi; nothing fussy. I don't bother with the chicken meat balls and whatever. Those are for the man. I'm really after grilled chicken hearts. It takes a lot of discipline not to order beyond three sticks of hatsu. I'm a monster. Hearts and a bowl of steamed white rice + a cold tomato make my stomach happy. 

I swear Choya judges me so hard each time we get drinks. She doesn't like the smell of ethanol. She also has no interest in our food at all. I'm thankful she doesn't jump up on my lap or place her paws on the table to beg for food. That would be utterly embarrassing. fffNo dog of mine does that, unless there's something so delectable that it over-rides their training. Cheese burgers... steaks... That night, I teased Choya with grilled chicken and hearts. She turned away. Dohhh. Fine. Hahaha. I certainly do not feed her 'human food', and definitely not any items that have been cured, marinated or salted. 

Often, she would select a favorite corner rather far away from us. That's okay if she doesn't block humans or intrude upon the other tables. Sometimes, she would scoot under my chair or be super near my feet or the man's. It depends on her mood. She's generally quiet and unobtrusive. Choya's happy to watch the world go by, snooze, stir and stretch, and simply be with us. The sweet floof would flop around and chill out till we're ready to go home. 

Being Pensive in 2022

In a random conversation with the BFF, I said that the work pace is picking up, and her text came back, "What work are you doing?!". I was like, !!!!! She didn't think I had work projects till March or something. Helloooooo, I would like a continuous stream of income, monthly. The inflation is worrisome. She sometimes forgets that I still have a respectable income that is supplied by actual corporate entities and not disbursed from a family office. 😂 

I rarely blog about work nowadays because I'm not involved in office gossip, politics or power play. Heh. I like it this way. I don't work in a permanent team. I'm otherwise known as a 'vendor' to the clients, or the interpreter, or the facilitator. I'm not a 'consultant'. I hate that word. I'm just a corporate minion doing freelance work, and that suits me fine. Little stress, few obligations and very focused deadlines with fixed parameters. I enjoy that. I highly doubt I'll ever return to working full-time in an office environment. Also, I'm 44 this year, and with what I do, it's gonna be hard getting back to a mover-shaker role with a giant part of my resume touting as 'freelance minion' for the past... decade... My mode of seeking an income has changed, and the nature of my chosen work projects meant that I do have a decent freedom of choice. I wouldn't trade these in.  

Freelance projects mean that I get a lot of flexibility in deciding when to sit down to churn out papers. Of course I would have to field long calls and occasionally take an ART to step into a physical office for some meetings, but mostly, I get full say over how to spend the 17+ waking hours. I used to portion quite a fair bit of time to the gyms and pilates studios. Now, a lot of it goes to fulfilling the dog's physical and mental needs. (I'll never encourage anyone to raise a dog. Get a cat. They're way easier on your schedule.)

I'm uneasy about the state of world affairs. Democracy has gone bonkers. The pandemic has enabled dictators and strait-laced governments to clamp down on independent thought and speech, as well as tighten social controls, in the name of the greater good. I'm pensive. It's not a one-week funk or whatever. I'm not in the doldrums and neither am I slipping into depression. It's this air of pessimism that I can't shake off. I don't feel the need to shake it off either.  

I carry this pensiveness from December 2021 into 2022, and it's likely to stay through the year. I hate it that when shit finally hits the fan, I'll no longer be young and fit. I'll be hard-pressed to keep up. The world's economy kinda sucks right now. Costs go up and inflation is inherent in every generation. We will feel it when our earning power decreases and our monetary reserves remain static and nothing else comes in. If I don't die in the next decade, I'll have to figure out how to feed and house myself without burning a giant hole through the wallet or giving it all to hospital bills. 

Can You Smell It If Meats Go Bad?

When a batch of Choya's raw food packs arrived last month, I thought a few packs looked off-color to me. But I threw them into the freezer anyway. There was one that went off, but I didn't think much of it and wrote it off. But over the weekend, I discovered 4 more packs of venison and chicken feet that stank to high heaven when I cut them open. That was an anomaly. 

We've been using the same vendor for her meats and such all along, and everything had been top notch. I wasn't fussed, but I thought I should make a note to the vendor. They were concerned, and agreed to replacement packs, and I managed to save three opened but spoilt packs (ziplock-ed to death) to return to the courier for investigation and analysis.

When the reply came, I raised my eyebrows. If the reply was meant to be reassuring, I'm not too sure I'm reassured. The vendor said that, 

We have conducted immediate examination upon receiving the three meal packs and the findings came back with no compromise to the meal quality. My team has examined each pack and found no unusual smell other than the natural gamey smell of the venison meat. We have retrieved the same batch of venison meat records and do not find any issue with it. Hope this clarifies.

The highlights in beige are mine. That line didn't sit too well with me. I didn't bother to argue with them. To begin with, I wouldn't have flagged this as issue if I didn't smell anything beyond the 'usual natural gamey smell of venison'. I've been ordering raw venison flank from them for two years. I know their cut, quality and 'freshness'. I know how to store, thaw out and handle raw food for Choya. Those five packs were definitely not okay. It was nowhere near smelling gamey. They smelt putrid. 

Those five packs didn't smell the same as the other packs which were fine. It was to the point in which I could identify them in the freezer should this happen again. The meat was mushy, and the color was way off. The vendor's info pages on the website under 'ingredients' also warned us that, 

Meats that have been stored too long or packaged badly during storage may exhibit some oxidation and freezer burn, discolouring meat to a darker grey or brown colour. A cursory smell test is also helpful when determining meat freshness. Meats that have an excessively fetid ('eggy') smell or sour smell may indicate that the meat is not fresh.

I do cook. I'm not vegetarian. Although I try to avoid it, but I'm also very used to handling dead chickens, raw fish and prawns, mussels and such and innards, raw goat, mutton and lamb, crocodile, kangaroo, and whatever other legally-permitted meats. I know when meats go off slightly (okay if you're cooking it thoroughly) and when it's deader than dead. 

The smell of fresh-enough raw meat is actually really gorgeous. If I have the least bit of suspicions about the freshness of meats and innards, I wouldn't feed them to Choya. Heck, I didn't even consider adding salt and pepper and grilling them to eat it myself. 

I'm particularly cautious these few weeks because Choya has just recovered from a bout of gastro-bacterial infection. That bout was likely nothing to do with her food and more to do with giardiasis or random clostridium, or stress colitis. But I am still careful anyway. I'm also conscious of whether I'm being over-sensitive or the food has indeed gone off.  

Ahhh well. 5 spoilt packs (by my definition) out of 500 packs is an acceptable ratio. The new batch of food that arrived two nights ago was fine, and the vendor is sending five replacement packs of venison next week. I politely told the team that I would flag and expect replacement packs if I get a whiff of that sour smell again. At least I could smell it. The really insidious bacteria would be the types that we can't smell or taste. They're just there waiting to be eaten and then begin wreaking havoc in our gastrointestinal tracts. 

One Last Hurrah at Asia Grand Restaurant

The BFF arbitrarily reserved a table for a dim sum lunch at Asia Grand Restaurant weeks before they announced the closure at Odeon Towers and the last day of operations is on February 15. We didn't know, of course, and we were happy to have scored one last meal here. There hasn't been an update about a new location by now. Acccck. Gosh, please don't close permanently. We'll miss their food LOADS, and the staff too. 

From January 24 to February 15, the restaurant serves only festive set menus, no dim sum at lunches or weekends. We won't bother coming here for dinners. We're not that keen on its a la carte dishes. Say, duck — you won't be coming here if you have a craving for good Peking duck or roast duck. However, Asia Grand remains my all-time favorite restaurants for lunch and 'dim sum'. I don't really take a lot of dim sum per se since those involves prawns and wayyy too much bao. But the other dim sum dishes Hong Kong style, yes I do. They've somehow gone less oily over the years, went slightly lower on salt, but never compromising on the flavors of the dishes. 

The BFF was only here for the har gau and siew mai, and laap mei fan (蝦餃、燒賣和臘味飯). I bravely added another pot of rice to it — a pork rib and chicken feet (家常港式風抓排骨飯). I do enjoy how they do it here. She randomly added char siew cheong fun and other small items since we had more stomachs at the table to share the food. The kitchen didn't boil up their famous pig stomach soup today. SAD. I really love their iteration. Thankfully I can still find good versions of this soup elsewhere. It's the claypot rice that's going to be a problem. It's hard to find one with such homemade flavors and not oily af. Back to my hunt of decent Hong Kong style claypot rice in Singapore. 

I was in the mood for fish and a bit of soup, so I ordered the dace fishball soup (石鍋魚湯鯪魚球). It was gorgeous. The man didn't know what the server was saying in Cantonese, couldn't read the Chinese words on the menu, but happily ordered an item that we didn't know what it was till it arrived. OH. It was a small portion of steamed fish head with black bean sauce (鼓汁蒸魚雲). It was a cheek of Song fish, the Asian Big Head Carp. Not bad at all! We were soooo stuffed, but we squeezed in dessert of gui ling gao (龜苓膏) for me and orh nee for the rest.

Sake & Umeshu at Suju

Over the festive period, I haven't been really asking people out for lunch, opting to hibernate instead. Those whom I met, are the usual folks I see through the year, whose voice and faces I welcome. I didn't feel like being sociable to even work acquaintances/associates.

Finally we step into the first week of the new year. It was luxurious to sit down to lunch and sake with J at Suju Mandarin Gallery before my work year began. J and I had a decent work year past. Somehow she randomly lends me a ton of emotional support when it comes to work projects although our industries are vastly different. J got through tough rounds of negotiations, and I had a windfall by way of a lovely client. On the work front, there was nothing to complain about. As such, umeshu and sake ought to be had for a toast to another smooth year at work for us.

I'm not fond of Dassai. It's over-hyped. But since this is the limited annual spring edition (the other release is in autumn), I shall taste it. It was the Dassai 39 Funabakumi Muroka (獺祭 / 純米大吟醸39 槽場汲み). IT WAS VERY GOOD. I didn't order a 720ml bottle lah. This is lunch. I'm not that alcoholic. I had a lovely big glass of sake. It went beautifully with the food. I should have ordered a pot. Heh. 

The restaurant's food was still lovely. I hadn't stepped in for months. I don't bother going to their other outlet at Jewel since that's really out of the way for me. This one at Mandarin Gallery is still the most convenient. J decided on a salt-grilled salmon bento. I couldn't move away from my favorite shogayaki. Mmmmmm. Suju does it so well. It does it the best actually. The generous portion of greens and shredded cabbage the meat comes with always cuts through any grease. 

The Forest In Your Memories

I was totally intrigued by how the story unfolded in Jennifer Egan's 'What the Forest Remembers', published in The New Yorker on December 27, 2021. She chose to begin on a day in 1965, and introduced to us the four friends who are bankers living in 1965 California — young men in their late twenties to early thirties — Lou Kline, Quinn Davies, Ben Hobart, and Tim Breezely.

I wasn't quite prepared when the story hopped out to present day and I finally understood what it was all about. This telling of a story within a story was brilliant. It reminded me of what good writing is about. It was truly "once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a forest." After reading the story, I even bothered to spend 34 minutes listening to the author read this. 

It tells of a young woman, Charlene, whose family called her Charlie, who was curious about what her father Lou Kline did in the forest with his friends ages ago. They took an overnight trip out without their wives and children. Charlie was only six then. Today, she was able to utilize present day technology to find out what happened. Human memories and consciousness could now be stored and archived into a little cube, and authorized people could view them like a film. 

When Own Your Unconscious came out, in 2016, I was able to have the wardrobe’s contents copied into a luminous one-foot-square yellow Mandala Consciousness Cube. I chose yellow because it made me think of the sun, of my father swimming. Once his memories were in the Cube, I was finally able to view them. At first, the possibility of sharing them never crossed my mind; I didn’t know it was possible. The Collective Consciousness wasn’t a focus of early marketing for Mandala, whose slogans were “Recover Your Memories” and “Know Your Knowledge.” My father’s consciousness seemed like more than enough—overwhelming, in fact—which may be why I began, with time, to crave other points of view. Sharing his was the price.As the legal custodian of my father’s consciousness, I authorized its anonymous release, in full, to the Collective. In exchange, I’m able to use date and time, latitude and longitude, to search the anonymous memories of others who were present in those woods, on that day in 1965, without having to invent a thing.

Grilled Meats at Songane

We sometimes stop by the conveniently located Songane Korean BBQ for an easy meal. I didn't want a fried chicken place or to be at crazy noisy Tanjong Pagar or Amoy Street area where tons of Korean restaurants have sprung up. Songane has great lunch sets, and decently priced grilled meat sets for the evenings. I quite like their banchan. Nothing too inventive, and everything solidly dependable. The man likes their iteration of kimchi. 

The restaurant's bulgogi lunch sets are quite all right. Don't ever order the kimbap here because it takes ages to arrive, and it might never turn up. Kimbap is prepped as and when the order is put it. It needs to be assembled and rolled up, but kitchen staff might not have sufficient time to do it at dinner when it's a full house. Songane Korean BBQ's duck stew is pretty delicious. 

My problem with these Korean grilled meats is that the cuts are still too fatty. I don't bother much with Japanese yakiniku because they keep offering only wagyu and fatty pork on the menu. Tonight, we kept it light — had a portion of prime rib and pork collar. And beer, of course. The exhaust above the grille makes it a lot less smoky and we don't leave the restaurant with heavy BBQ meat smells. Can't help about the hair absorbing smells though. Hahahah. I love the lettuce and chillies served. If I didn't need carbs, then the lettuce wraps are a great way to take in the meats. The greens balance the whole meal and keep my stomach happy. Bottled beer works too. Wheeeeee. 

Songane Korean BBQ
380 Jalan Besar, ARC 380
#01-02 Singapore 209000
T: +65 69803474

Hours: 11.30am to 2.30pm; 5.30pm to 10pm. Closed on Tuesdays. 

Still A Cap of Five To Gather Over Lunar New Year

News article on Today published on 5 January 2022.

On one hand, I'm sian about the continued restrictions. On the other hand, the government has so conditioned me till I'm almost thankful that the Safe Management Measures weren't tightened, i.e. Hong Kong this week. I can still get a life here. Let's hope our rules don't 'tighten' anymore and we go back to a semi-lockdown. However, my immediate reaction to this piece of news was "HELL YEAH."

The Lunar New Year remains my most hated Chinese festival. After last year's fiasco by the in-laws who were evaded my direct questions, lied and coerced me into a situation I wanted no part of, I lost it. I lost total respect for them and I made sure they knew it. My entire attitude towards them has changed, right down to the way I speak to them. I kept it formal, cold and distant. I'm well aware of consequences. I know these games. My family has schooled me in that for the first half of my life. To me, it's not a game worth joining. With a change of attitude, it tells you that I've decided to bow out of the game. Y'all can play it by yourselves.  

The same rationale applies — if I haven't seen you for a year, much less text or talk to you, then all the more I don't really need to see you for the so-called Lunar New Year. Why be a hypocrite. I refuse play this game. If you want to be part of a gathering of >5 or host one at whichever venue, don't tell me, don't include me, and don't fucking expect me to be part of it. 

Isn't it quite the irony? All the friends I have chose to play by the rules. For two years. And it is precisely 'family', that chose to break it, and expect me to be part of it. WTF. I've issued the in-laws a stern warning for the Year of the Tiger. I said it straight out last week because I was pissed off by something they said, so I retaliated. The restrictions and cap on the numbers to gather strengthens my case when I say no to requests. I can legit tell people to fuck off if I don't want to do what they want. Also, I've worked with old folks all my life. I know. 

Fun for Ryo & Choya

Toddled over to N’s for a morning of fun for the doggos. She was busy moving house and had only just sorted out the last of her furniture delivery and settled in. She said "Come visit!" I didn’t want to put her out with lunch or dinner, so I said to do a morning walk, and play-time for the doggos after. 

Ryo and Choya are fwens. They don’t particularly play when they’re outside, but they walk well together and don’t mind each other’s company. Ryo has also settled in in this new home, and welcomed Choya’s visit today. They had a ball of time chasing each other around before chilling out.

N still took out fruits! And a panettone! That was breakfast! If she had added yoghurt or muesli, the entire tray would be my lunch even. The doggos were so pleased with each other till we stayed on and hit lunchtime. Then N insisted on getting out some wine and cheese. So we had the savory board too. #winning

It was a lovely long morning of conversation. I was so stuffed. This was pretty much brunch! The skies held so that we could hang out on the spacious patio. It was cloudy, but I even got sun-kissed on the nose! (Of course I had slathered sunblock.) There was a wonderful breeze continuously wafting through. We even managed to get the dogs out for a pee before the afternoon rains came in.

A Thosai Masterclass

The man signed up for a thosai masterclass taught by Vasunthara Ramasamy. Vasun, for short, if you're polite to her. She announces her classes on IG. She also pens her thoughts at Monsoon Table. I didn't join him. Hehehe. It was a four-hour class, and I don't have the time or interest to do that. I'll leave the thosai-making to him since that's his favorite sort of breakfast.

Vasun had requested for him to bring along two containers of about 600ml each, and one bigger one that was either a ziplock or a 2-liter container. He came home with thosai he had made — with and without egg, an extra batch of thosai batter to ferment overnight before keeping in the fridge up to a week. The longer you keep, the longer the batter is fermenting. So overnight or two, it would still be good for thosai, then it becomes batter for idli and by the end of the week, uttapam. 

He also brought home two gorgeous chutneys of coconut and tomato cooked by Vasun. He also got a small packet of podi from Vasun. NICE! Before keeping them in the fridge, I took two pieces and ate them immediately too. Mmmmmm. This is really how thosai and chutneys should taste instead of the rubbish we get from most restaurants. I was bloody impressed. Finally! Fantastic thosai and chutneys! What a treat for me!

The man was so excited about it all. He was sooooo pleased with the class, and learning the secrets to making good thosai, as well as chutneys. With some practice, he can probably recreate them at home. It doesn't take that much effort to do so. I don't bother much with chutneys at restaurants or ordering thosai. I didn't want to waste stomach space with mediocre food. Very few restaurants do it right — the thosai is usually gross (the batter doesn't seem to have fermented nicely), and the chutneys are watery. ugh. These, that he brought home, told me that Vasun can cook, and she can really really cook. 

Vegan Dips To The Rescue!

J thoughtfully got all of us tubs of vegan dips from Loaded Gun Kitchen. Many friends have been raving about it for a while, but I never got around to ordering any to try. It wasn't on my priority to-do list. Hurhurhur. When J texted us about delivery dates, I was so appreciative. These dips are great as gifts to people like meeeeee. 

I blinked when the items arrived. So many tubs big and small! Wow. There was even a tub of poppadum! The info sheet suggested a shelf life of 14 days in the fridge from the date of delivery. All right, noted. None of these were wasted. I put some in the freezer and some in the fridge. Perhaps freezing might compromise the flavors a little, but that was preferable over having them go bad.

Dips will always come in useful during this season. Not so much for the guests, but dips are for myself, rather. (I didn't bother to host any drinks or makan for anyone this season. I severely lack sleep and I'm utterly exhausted.) Especially in between festive meals with friends and such. I can't be eating so much every other day. Indigestion would set in like an insidious hangover from hell. 

Vegetable sticks of carrots and cucumbers always go nicely with good dips. To me, that's a meal. A very decent meal at that. I could add cheese to the meal if I really want. We have plenty of cheese at home. It's hilarious that all our friends supplied our cheeses this season, but they meant it for Choya. Not the humans. 😂

The cilantro lime cashew avo sauce was surprisingly okay. I didn't mind it although I really dislike cilantro. But yes, the cilantro taste is palpable. Hehehe. The carrot kimchi hummus is good too, except I'm not fond of kimchi, so I don't take too much of that. I love the sweet miso cashew cream. It's more savory than sweet from the roasted bell peppers and caramelized onions. The kombucha BBQ pinto bean works pretty well as a pasta sauce. Ooof. Yeah, I tried. Tossed some penne in in and added mushrooms and shaved parmesan. 

Kopi, Puffs & Dreams

Began the year with Pallavi Gopinath Aney's 'Kopi, Puffs & Dreams' (2021). The story began in the late 19th century and ended in 1928/1929 before World War II reached Singapore. It tells the story of two young men from Palakkad, Puthu and Krishnan who met aboard a ship bound for Malaya. Fate brought them together as colleagues in a wealthy plantation owner's palatial home. Then the house was burned down. 

Puthu and Krishnan had became friends, and they went down to Singapore to find new lives and start new jobs. Krishnan was a talented cook. Puthu was extremely suited to be a hard-nosed businessman. Eventually Puthu found money to rent a restaurant, and Krishnan quit his job to become his partner. After much argument about the type of restaurant and food they would have, 'Puthu's Kopi and Curry' opened. Six months later, they expanded. Then they started catering functions and weddings. And they became legitimate businessmen who knew how to run their businesses. 

Their personal lives progressed as well, to a respectable standard as judged by society when they got to their early thirties some time in the 1910s. Krishnan had Pushpa as a wife whom he had fallen out of love with, and in-laws whom he didn't like because they were cruel to him. Puthu finally asked his long-time fiancee Gayathri to come to Singapore for the wedding; while he respected her, he didn't love her. 

The wives, in some cases Pushpa's friends, went out of duty, determined to turn up their noses at Gayathri. But Gayathri was warm and welcoming; she was a good listener, albeit not much of a talker, and kind. She listened to their problems and was happy to babysit a child or two after school and give them a hot meal; it filled her lonely days.

She took an interest in the temple and various charitable works; as Puthu's wife she was invited to join committees and she worked hard for these, but always gracefully gave the credit to others.

Very soon, two centres of gravity formed. A smaller, frivolous one around Pushpa and a larger, more congenial one around Gayathri, who mediated minor disputes in the community, sent meals to new mothers and grieving homes, and hosted little gatherings at her home to read the poetry she enjoyed so much.

The two men noticed the changes slightly, but failed to understand the reason for Pushpa's brusqueness towards Gayathri. Krishnan assumed it had to do with jealousy of the pregnancy. Puthu didn't particularly care; he was proud of his wife and the pregnancy. 

The lives of Puthu, Krishnan, Pushpa and Gayathri were intertwined. With Pushpa's most of all since her father Mr Pillai was a way more successful businessman and loaned them that huge sum to expand their businesses. Until the bad times rolled in, and Mr Pillai wished to call in all the loans, even at the expense of his daughter's reputation, social standing and happiness.  

Puthu was the ever-shrewd and savvy businessman. It was hard to fathom his true emotions. He was only loyal to Krishnan, and the latter accorded him the same trust as his loyal partner. Their business partnership was solid, and their friendship ran deep; they were friends who were more like brothers too, since their own families were non-existent in this world.

The plot deepened, the sub-plots happened, and eventually came the twists. I didn't think it would end like this for Pushpa and Puthu. It ended both tragically and happily. Or as happy as one's burdens allow. If you watch enough Netflix melodrama, then you could probably guess what these are. I won't reveal it here. This is a story worth reading. It's well paced and thoughtful.

"And you don't mind?"

"Of course, I mind! I mind so much, Justine! But it's what Krishnan wants. And that's what my life has been about; bending to the wishes of these men. Yours too. It's all we do, all of us. Even poor Pushpa. They decide and we comply."

Justine looked at her sadly. Gayathri was angry, but she wasn't wrong. Fathers and husbands had shaped all their lives.