Jiak Kim House

The friends took us out to dinner at Jiak Kim House on 5 Jiak Kim Street. We kept the dinner venue a secret from the birthday boy till it was time to drive to restaurant. He couldn't laughed when I said "drive to the old Zouk on Jiak Kim Street." Oh man! Memories indeed, for good or bad, Zouk was a huge part of our growing up years.

We wanted an early dinner. At 6pm, it was bright and happy. Saw the three go-downs and laughed. We have never appeared at Zouk this early. And to think that we were here now looking at the buildings' new chapter of life, we wondered what the ghosts think. 

The restaurant is beautifully done. Spacious interiors and a high ceiling made it very chic and comfortable. Thought has been given to lighting and table spacing. Jiak Kim House is sited exactly at Velvet Underground. LOLOL The dining hall is the dance hall. Even the washrooms are in the same direction. I suppose the piping and plumbing remained. Hahaha.

The food is excellent. Chef TQ has outdone himself. We ordered prudently since none of us wanted to over-eat. The menu offered Southeast Asian flavors with a twist. That was right up our tastebuds. These are our spice and sambal buddies. Loved the array!  The kitchen sent out complimentary amuse-bouche and appetizers of mini glutinous rice loaves with cheese and butter, as well as chilled momotaro somen with ikura. 

We shared one Tingkat for us four instead of two — seven-herbed crab cake with assam mayo, lamb goulash croquette with mint coriander coulis, Spanish mackerel otak-otak with green curry, and chilli crab kueh pie tee with kaffir lime. We almost ordered the full portion of otak-otak! It was delicious. 

I absolutely dislike those jellyfish appetizers at Chinese restaurants. While I wasn't hot about the chilled Alaskan crab and jellyfish, I appreciated that it had Thai green pepper sauce and soursop sorbet to make the dish more interesting. But I didn't dare to take more than a bite of the jellyfish. Passed on the crab. 

Had to try the Mdm Lee's lotus leaf rice and ayam taliwang. If you like chicken, this is a good grilled iteration. Nothing to complain about because the marinade was shiok. The lotus leaf rice came in a small manageable bit, and tbh, one person could eat that, especially if that was your one dish. The rice was cooked in a lovely broth and it was nicely perfumed with mushrooms. 

There were so many meats to choose from. Picked three for tonight. There was a fun iteration of beef rendang in the form of 'beef tongue to tail' — shortribs, braised oxtail, torched tongue with domino potatoes and rojak salad. We would have loved to order a larger sized rojak salad! That was absolutely refreshing. I was wondering whether to get a fish, but the table wanted the tandoori lamb rack. Okaaaaay. The portion came nicely with four pieces of superbly tender lamb chops with curried lamb mash and mint coriander ganoush. 

The opeh laksa leaf fettuccine was piquant and surprisingly tasty. It came with prawns, mud crab, mussels, fish and scallops. There was laksa bisque, ulam mixed herbs and not-spicy sambal. One person could eat all that, but we chose to share so that we could eat other things!

We got to dessert. Two orders of that, as opposed to one Tingkat. LOLOL They got us at 'dark chocolate and buah keluak ganache with kirsch cream namelaka'. That was splendid. It's one of the best iterations of buah keluak in dessert we've had in Singapore! We were disciplined and had one drink each. They have cocktails. I avoided that and asked for a simple gin and tonic. The man totally enjoyed this dinner and the awesome company of our dear friends.  

Aiming to Get The Body Fat Percentage to 20%

I was in a fitness funk, and also indulged in too much pasta and Japanese and Korean white rice. The weight crept up. I could feel the clothes getting tight. I was horrified to read 53.7kg on the scales. I am able to lift heavier, but I know I need to drop the weight. Before I do that, I must know the current muscle mass versus body fat. The Evolt 360 body composition analyzer told me all that. 

The health metrics don't lie. Instead of just looking at one's weight, the bioelectrical impedance analysis is a much better gauge of all health metrics. You can be really light and skinny, but without strength and muscle mass. That's not what I want. 

My current body fat percentage stands at 23.6%. Although the stats say it's optimal, I'm working to drop it to an ideal 20%. There's no way I can get it to 18% like before because that involves some strict dieting and insane hours of working out. But 20% is achievable. With that, I'm hoping to drop the weight to 50kg too.

I'm also going to eat a lot less carbs. I love carbs; not abandoning them, but I can't eat them the way I did. It was a bit much, honestly. The BFF snidely said not to drop that much weight because without fats, we're just going to look haggard since our ageing skin is losing elasticity too. Thanks ah. What is it that they say? Ohhhh, 'everything's sagging'.

Okay, back to the grind. This means streamlining the diet again, upping cardio and lifting a bit heavier at strength training.

The Husband Turns 49

We would need to pace out the husband's birthday celebrations with friends if it involves meals. There's no way we could eat so much every day. We have to schedule these heavier meals apart. So nowadays, birthday celebrations will last the month. Hahahah. 

Besides joining the husband at the gym for a Grid class in honor of his birthday, I also took him (and the dog) out to dinner at Fico. It was a super hot day, but the restaurant's fans cooled the area sufficiently, along with a sea breeze that stirred. Whewwww. It was like 35°C, and in the day, felt like 40°C. 

Choya likes her little spot at the restaurant. They also bothered to put ice cubes into her water bowl. She only drinks from clean bowls that hold iced water. Of course she would drink from this one. It was so hot and humid that we didn't feel like drinking much. Alcohol is just going to make us feel warmer. No bottles then. The husband took a pint of beer, and I took a glass of red. 

The husband had half a dozen oysters, and also stracciatella cheese with endives. We shared a portion of malfadine with ossobucco, almonds and red wine. The portions of pasta here are small-ish. But it was sufficient for one person. We couldn't (cannot) do a plate of pasta each; had to share. 

We were single-mindedly interested in the fish. A whole branzino was ordered. It came faster than the cautioned long wait of 35 minutes. The fish was really braised to perfection. It was delicious. There was no point for the server to split for us. We just ate it as is, and cleaned it.  

At this First Leadership Development Workshop

I prefer not to work with friends unless it's a charity project, or a one-off project, say a conference or panel discussion, or prep for an article or a feature, the sorts. Those are fun! I certainly do not do 'business' with friends to 'share' in a restaurant/cafe/pet business, et cetera. I do not do investments with friends who are bankers. I keep those strictly separate. Money and friends, often, don't go together this way. 

If I view someone as a friend, we do not talk about money. The moment we do, we're not friends anymore. This motto has served me well through the years, allowing me to sift out the gems who are still friends with me today. I can't be more glad that the BFF and the dear faeriefolk share my views on this matter. 

At S's invitation, I tagged along to the a two-day leadership development workshop that she was facilitating. This is the first set of a whole series of workshops. I was at this workshop to do administrative things. S needed to keep her mind on the reading mood of the participants, walking through the design of the program and guiding the direction she needed the conversations would go. In leadership programs like this, I like to assist the lead facilitator and keep program participants in line. My strength is not in talking to people. I don't like to lead a workshop. I prefer to facilitate small group conversations if required, since I've been extensively trained to do that. So I'm not entirely useless. Hahaha! 

I requested for payment in kind — coffee, lunch, AC, wifi, a comfy chair and table. After all, my work isn't a similar industry, I'm neither a competitor nor a freelance trainer. I don't even know how to quote a fee to S. I'm quite happy to just hang out for two days because the dates coincided with a break between my own (paying) projects. I took it as an opportunity to pad up corporate experiences in a different industry. Of course the bonus was to have lunch with her for the two days. Hahaha. Lunch was quick and utilitarian before we ran off for a 10-minute down time to reset before beginning the afternoon session.  

In an ancient analogy of a power structure, I wouldn't be a good Emperor or Prime Minister. I'd be an ideal war advisor hiding in the shadows and I'm happiest to remain as that. I'm not on LinkedIn and I don't need to 'network'; I'm really awkward at that. I'm just thankful that my new projects continue to roll in without my having to 'sell myself' very much. I do best at analysis, research, paperwork, reading the room and formulating a strategy. 

Sunday Roast at Hubs

There're a few 'gastropubs' doing Sunday Roast. Muddy Murphy's is convenient, and it does it okay, but it isn't fantastic. Tilly's at Katong did a decent version till it suddenly shuttered. Ah well. Found another good spot for Sunday Roast last month! It's been around for years, but we've not stopped by because we don't live in the area. 

Hubs in Siglap is now our to-go for it — they do that from 1-3pm and 6-8pm, on Sundays lah. casual, like how it's supposed to be and simple. There's nothing to scream about but there's nothing to complain about either. It's so satisfying when food is decently done. Guinness of course is mad decent. We also don't a light Redbreast 12y.o super diluted with ice or soda; it's rather refreshing in this heat. We sit at an outdoor table, and ice cubes melt super fast.

The Sunday Roast platter offers a choice of beef or chicken, with the usual mash, vegetables, peas and a Yorkshire pudding. Both are equally okay. I love that Yorkshire pudding! So big! Heh. There's just too much gravy though. Do people drink it?! Gosh. I left the peas alone and gave them all to the man. I no like peas.

Gym Shopping Again

I had no time to attend the virtual First Creditors' Meeting for Ritual Gym's provision liquidation. I'll just read the minutes later. Unsecured creditors like me don't have much hopes of getting anything back. The husband's bank honored a full (credit card) chargeback on his new and completely untouched 50 classes. At least.

I'm totally going to buy those trial packs at the various gyms and try them out. Gotta have HIIT and weights in the weekly exercise regime. Program structure(s) and cleanliness at a gym are important of course. But my main considerations are the timings of these classes and the location of the gym, and no more lengthy contracts, dammit. 

Began with BFT's $50 unlimited 2-week trial. Surprise surprise, I actually made it to six 9.40am sessions. HA! Unbelievable. I'm still not a morning-gym person. The BFT programs are standard-okay, but you're truly on your own. The trainers are of not much help — I doubt they're paid to assist gym-goers. You're pretty much paying for the usage of the gym, the equipment and an app on the big screens to take you through 50 minutes. If you like humans, you can get to know everyone. If you don't, well, you shouldn't be here in the first place. Get a PT somewhere else to sort you out. 

I'm not going to continue with this particular BFT outlet. The outlet is located in a dump of a building. There's a nightclub or KTV bar upstairs. The moment I step into the minuscule lift lobby, I'm hit by the overpowering stale stench of cigarettes, last night's vomit and alcohol, and urine. It's ridiculous. The toilets are gross af. NOPE. NO. NO NO. If I do join a BFT outlet, I'll get another trial pass at another location that is not owned by this set of franchise owners.

I did 6 types of classes over the two weeks. To be very honest, I haven't done HIIT and weights at this sort of intensity over a loooong time. Even going to Ritual thrice a week then wouldn't have cut it. That's at a wayyy lower intensity; it's completely different. I haven't even been running much because it's so damn hot and I don't fully like running on the treadmill. Tbh, it has been so fun doing pull-ups again consistently. Obviously I also use the resistance band to assist me. I max-out at 10 pull-ups in the first set. How to do more reps for the next few sets? The resistance band also helps me to do easy kipping to muscle-ups! Fun! Fun! Fun! 

That day while fixing the aching muscles and tight ribs, the Gyrotonic instructor pointed out that my right traps are too active, and told me to push it down and watch it, otherwise I'd end up with muscle spasms. She's absolutely right. I'm already feeling a bit of strain there. Since I'm gym shopping and I can't eat shellfish for some time now, even with antihistamines, I'm going to take it as another phase to cut carbs, up a bit of cardio, eat cleaner, and lift heavier, and maintain that core of steel. 

A Wish is a Terrible Thing

I finished the anthology of twenty folktales collected and reimagined in 'Cursed: A Wish is a Terrible Thing' (2020), edited by Marie O'Regan and Paul Kane, published by Titan Books. 

There're plenty of steady authors within the collection who lent solid content to these little tales of horror. They reimagine fairy tales, and rewrite them in the best way they know. Some are fairly fun, tbh. I enjoyed a number of them. 

Catriona Ward's 'At That Age' was eerie creepy with forever-young enchanted children who would lure others in, and the idea of the Fountain of Youth, Hester, the eternal being being replenished from the blood of children who are twins. Then I realized that Hester is perhaps a spin on Hester Prynne of 17th century Salem in Nathaniel Hawthorne's 'The Scarlet Letter'. That Hester was accused of murder and perceived as a witch. This Hester is an eternal being who eats children who are twins. 

When the editors put Neil Gaiman so prominently on the front cover, I wondered what it was. Ahhh. It's 'Troll Bridge' by Neil Gaiman. This was written and published as a short graphic novel in 1993. All of us must have read it.

Jane Yolen features rather prominently — she has two short poems bookending the collection, titled 'Castle Cursed' and 'Castle Waking'. She has a short story 'Little Red' co-authored with writer and folk rock musician Adam Stemple. Little Red stays at a hospital, presumably, for mentally ill children. Little Red has been cutting her forearms. She also has a nemesis adult in this hospital who physically abuses her, Mr L. Then I realized, this is Little Red Riding Hood! But what we don't know is, whether the horror is going on in her head or she physically manifests into a wolf. What we do know is, she kills her Grandma in this story, and kills Mr L. 

I wake, not surprised to be tied down again. Seven points this time, maybe more. I can't even move my head. 

"Jesis, Red, you killed him this time." It is Alby, drifting into view above me.

"Go away, Abby. You aren't even real."

She nods without speaking and fades away. I go to sleep. I don't dream.

The true horror isn't supernatural. It's human. I found it in 'New Wine' by Angela Slatter, a writer based in Brisbane, Australia. Eighteen year-old Alek Howard and his tutor Valerie Wynne shares an easy relationship. His mother apparently left the family when Alek was a young boy. Valerie also doubles up as Alek's guardian and housekeeper since his father Reid Howard travels so much and misses all birthdays and special occasions. 

Valerie lost her daughter Lily when one day, she disappeared without a trace, and later on, her husband took to drinking and also skipped town with their joint bank account. Reid offered her a job and a home with the Howards to care for Alek.

Alek has a penchant for girls and he has a continuous string of girlfriends and such. I blinked when he said "Sometimes his father was one of the reasons Alek didn't stick with a girl, but he'd never told Valerie that because how pathetic was it? Having your dad steal your girlfriends?" This was mirrored in a secret letter sent by Valerie's ex lover who had died — a CCTV image capture of Reid Howard's car, and the angle got him as a driver, and his passenger was her lost daughter Lily, the date stamp was on the day that Lily went missing. Ahhhh. The twist is coming.

The house has a basement where old and expensive bottles of wine was stored and locked behind a digital keypad and a passcode. Valerie finally tried to break the passcode to go in. The passcode is Lily's date of disappearance. The basement isn't filled with wine bottles. It was filled pedestals and glass walls of various types of women's shoes, some speckled with dried blood. This was a room full of trophies of a serial killer. She found Lily's prom shoes soaked in blood patches. Alek's mother Laura was also killed and her shoes were in this room too. Reid Howard is a rich silver fox, and a killer, thriving on pain and sadism.

As far as Mercy's Brook is concerned, Obadiah Tully died a hero, saving Valerie and Alek from Reid Howard's psychotic episode, before his own untimely demise. No bodies have been found in the grounds of the estate, and the Mayor is happy with that since he considers a graveyard of girls right be bad for the town's morale and future economic prospects. Least said, soonest mended and all that, he says to Valerie and Alek, meaning, Keep your mouths shut and no one looks at your actions too closely. The hastily appointed new Sheriff keeps telling Valerie that they might never find anything more than the shoe collection. 

The Last Few Burgers at Three Buns Robertson Quay

Six years on, Three Buns at Robertson Quay has scheduled its last day of operations to be next Saturday 30 March 2024. They're not setting up shop at a new venue. It has been a great run. We've gone by often for easy meals. They have a wide menu and great burgers. The ktihcne does seriously delicious iterations of vegetarian burgers in the form of TiNDLE and Impossible™patties.

Choya literally grew up with this place. She had her first bites of cooked beef here, till they didn't offer a pet menu anymore. They got a pet licence, and we've been coming ever since. I don't mind Choya on the floor, and she's comfortable here. But I've seen the floors under the outdoor tables of the restaurant from okay to dirty to horrid. I realized that they don't bother to keep the floors outdoors clean. For a long time now, they don't even bother to clean off rat and lizard droppings anymore. Ugh. So I'm wary of sitting here at night when I can't see clearly what's on the floor.

Although this is Three Buns's last week of operations, the kitchen didn't slack off. The burgers were still delicious, nicely grilled. I've got nothing to complain about. Instead of the vegetarian option today, I took actual beef — the Baby Huey, and added a sunny side-up. I could never finish the bun anyway; left ¾ of it behind this time. I'm cutting carbs yo. 

The man went for broke and also added egg to his Jason Four Cheese, which already had a double patty, aged gouda and Punk Dog IPA. He ate all his bun. Okaaayyy. He also wanted a coffee cocktail thingy. He said it was delicious. Heh. I decided against alcohol. Took a super refreshing lemonade that bar bothered to shake up in a cocktail shaker. 

Some of the popular burgers would be featured on Potato Head's menu. That's a cool joint, but I haven't stopped by for years. That gives more of a party vibe; I'm not looking to party. I just want to chill. And the Keong Saik shophouse address isn't that conducive for Choya. Ahhhhh well. We had some fun times!

Solid Soaps from Lush!

Went to LUSH to get a birthday gift for S. M and I had a quick chat and thought bath bombs would do great. LUSH had shelves of those for us to choose from. The scents were super overpowering for me. Hahaha. But okay, it was kinda fun to choose things for a good friend.

Then I went to the other shelves to check out their soaps. I use both shower gel and solid soaps. No preference over either; I simply put both on the shower rack to use. I don't really bother about the brands of solid soaps either. Solid soap is soap. I only need their scents muted — say sea salt, lemon, citrus and ginger, the sorts. No rose, no lavender, no shitty florals, thanks. 

I have never used solid soaps from LUSH! Amazing right, considering that I've been getting soaps from all over iHerb and such. I like them in manageable sizes of 100-g blocks. Found them in the scents I like! Got three blocks in 100g. That's the minimum size permitted at LUSH anyway.

I got them solid soaps in Sea Vegetable (some sea salt, seaweed thingy), Karma (patchouli and lemongrass) and Lemon Zest. Then the store gave me a free little bit called Faerie Realm (wild orange, snow mushrooms and cocoa butter). It's their upcoming springtime limited edition item. I laughed and laughed. Quite apt; a fit to my social media handles huh. 

Slowdive in Singapore

The last time I was at Capitol Theatre, was in end February to watch Explosions in the Sky (yes, again). I usually get standing tickets to these gigs. It has been years, but the air-conditioning in this theatre feels non-existent at a full-house gig. It can get suffocating after an hour. Tonight, I'm here to catch Slowdive. 

Since it's Ramadan, the shows started later so that Muslims could break fast first. Our very own motifs opened the show; they came on at 8.15pm. I've heard motifs when they launched their debut album 'remember a stranger' last April at Esplanade Annex Theatre. So I didn't turn up that early to catch their set. Caught the last bits of it. 

Slowdive came on at 9.05pm. Ahhh... shoegaze. I take it as the emo band of my teenaged years. When I wanted something quieter over Nirvana and Prodigy, I listened to shoegaze, and Slowdive featured quite prominently on my... cassette tapes and CDs! Hahahaha. The band broke up after the release of their third album 'Pygmalion' in 1995. They only reformed in 2014 and began making music.

The band played a few songs from their latest album, 'Everything is Alive' (2023). Think 'Kisses' and 'Chained to a Cloud'. Of course!!! It was a sold-out gig, with loads of young people and teens in the audience too. We were like, 'Ehhhhh....  how come this band has got Gen Z fans too?' Then we were like, 'Ohhh. TikTok'. But Slowdive's music is pretty easy to digest. It's gorgeous when set to video clips and self-reflections spiels and things like that. It should reach loads of people across ages for all sorts of reasons. 

In an interview with Will Richards at The Standard in November 2023, the band's vocalist and songwriter Neil Halstead said that way back when in 1995, they were “the runt of the shoegaze litter,” Now, it's all different.

In the last few years especially, the rise of TikTok has brought the band a surprising new fanbase of teens obsessed with their widescreen brand of rock. Scour the app and you’ll see scores of videos soundtracked by the band’s 1993 song When The Sun Hits, where users work through their issues or tell stories from their lives with the song as a canvas. Videos include short films detailing the pain of long-distance relationships and discussions about mental health and the healing power of music. The track’s lyrical refrain – “it matters where you are”' – has been scrawled onto bedroom walls and inspired tattoos.

The night also had some good old ones from the album 'Souvlaki' (released in 1993) — loved 'When the Sun Hits' and 'Dagger'. They also played one of my favorite singles, 'Sugar for the Pill' which was released as a single in 2017 and later put into their fourth album eponymously titled 'Slowdive'. 

The band just played in Bangkok the previous night. The friends loved the show and all its digital and light magic. Nothing complicated, but loads of effort put in. They said that the Singapore show should be equally awesome. It was. The songs brought back so much memories for us. I believe that word, for many of us present at Slowdive's shows in Bangkok and Singapore, is nostalgia. I totally enjoyed myself! 

Lamb Rendang at Tomahawk!

Rustled up a table to check out the new items on the menu at Tomahawk. The friends hadn't been to this restaurant, so we had to take them here for a sampling of the menu. Ryo and Choya came with. The champagne we had at the friends' earlier nicely filled us up. No major drinking to be done at the restaurant then. Had an easy bottle of chianti. 

After the starters, we just went on to the mains. I had asked if the kitchen could do a special fish for the night. The kitchen obliged and managed to get us a whole garouper. So we had seared garouper with scallops on squid ink mash. That was really lovely. 

There was a special for the week; a lamb rack rendang! Put in a pre-order for it. Apparently the lamb rack could be done in rendang or chilli con carne. We opted for rendang done spicy. Delicious. It looked big, but it wasn't that bad. The size was because of the bones and while the meat was totally sufficient to feed us all, it wasn't massive. 

Of course we had to have beef, but nothing dramatic. We opted for a modest 300g serving in the form ofan Australian Pure Black Picanha done medium. Along with desserts to share, that was more than enough food for all of us.

Ryo was so pleased to be here. Choya simply settled in under Uncle B's chair, her chosen human for the night. This is likely the only restaurant that Ryo is completely comfortable in — indoors, floofs allowed on chairs, spacious and cool. 

Steamed Ikan Kurau

Choya's portions.

Toddled off to Meidi-ya to get a lovely piece of madai sashimi for the Smol Girl, and also a good quality fillet of ikan kurau / threadfin to steam it for her. The fillets weren't small. So I got two packs of four fillets. As a result, I decided to steam up fillets for our lunch too. LOL

I also needed coriander and spring onions; got some bok choi too. Decided to do up a second dish of an easy stew in the form of lean minced pork, silken tofu, daikon and mushrooms. This would do for a light superbly healthy lunch filled with proteins. No additional carbs needed in the form of rice or noodles. 

I prepped the fish for the Smol; Girl first. She had a first small main topped with madai sashimi. Then a second main of steamed ikan kurau. Another portion went into the fridge for the next day. Hers held just a tinkle of salt, and a base of bok choi and coriander. She didn't need anything else. I knew she wouldn't care about vegetables, so I just left them at the side, and topped hers with a fresh coriander leaf. She doe eat coriander, when she's in the mood. Heh. Today, she slurped them all up. 

Today I felt like using bok choi as a base to line the plate before steaming the fish. It would lend some sweetness to it. The portion for humans included mushrooms, garlic, shallots and ginger, and a generous dash of soy sauce and fish sauce. Steaming fillets this small and thin wouldn't require too long. Just under 15 minutes on high heat, then turn it off to let it cook in the hot pot.

I rustled up the tofu, daikon, shiitake and minced pork separately. Those were done with dashi and a bit of white pepper in pot. That was easy and tasty, and added some bite to the meal. While I prepped the food, the man went off to the gym for 1.5 hours. The stew didn't take long to be ready. #ImpieCooks2024  

I decided to have my own lunch first. I didn't use the giant steamer. Used a small pot and split up the bowls of fish. Steamed my slab of ikan kurau first, and ate it. Steamed the man's fish slightly later when he texted that he was on his way back. Fish tastes best cooked just about right. 

When the man got back, his fillets of fish was just done. Nice. His portion of stew of tofu and daikon and mushrooms were easily scooped out into bowl. Fuss-free one-pot meals FTW. He loved this little lunch chockfull of tasty proteins. 

Find Your Life's Meaning and Purpose

Borrowed Nick Bradley's 'Four Seasons in Japan' (2023). It was absolutely meta, a fictional story of fictional story. A book within a book. I end up needing no more affirmation that the answer to life's new paths is found in books, in reading them. 

I also loved that the author (currently teaching the Masters class in Creative Writing at University of Cambridge and MA at UEA) delved into a PhD on the figure of a cat in Japanese literature. He speaks Japanese fluently, and has also worked as a translator for several books. But I haven't read his first book 'The Cat and the City' (2020).

Oregon-born and now living in Japan protagonist Flo Dunthorpe works as a translator. She's got ennui; she's sick and tired of Tokyo, stuck in a rut with her job and disillusioned with a relationship that seems to have run its course (partly her own fault), with her partner Yumi going off to New York City. Of course they have a cat named Lily. The cat lives with Flo and isn't going anywhere, till one day Lily disappeared from the apartment .

One day in the subway, she picks up a book left by a fellow passenger. It's titled 'The Sound of Water' written by Hibiki in Japanese. As Flo reads it and endeavors to translate it to English, she gets caught up in the lives and emotions of the protagonists and thought about how much her own life parallels theirs. It's an absolute hoot — a book within a book, and a translation within. 

The subway book talks about a grandmother Ayako and her grandson Kyo living in Onomichi after a family tragedy (his father died by suicide). Kyo's mother thought he should be with his grandmother. A mundane but steady life running a coffeeshop versus dreams of being an artist or to keep trying to pass the exams to medical school. Ahhhh, ageing and youthful dreams. 

'The Sound of Water' divided its chapters into the four seasons. We see Flo working on it through the seasons too, and there seems to be progress as she works on it bit by bit, section by section, concentrating on getting it right and getting sufficient material to send to her publisher to see if they're keen to publish it in English. 

One of the dangers of literary translation work was falling down research rabbit holes. Whether it was googling a tonbi coat to see what kind of overcoat Ayako was wearing (she'd seen online that it looked a bit like Sherlock Holmes's coat), or working out how to weave into the text that Japanese of the older generations put cloth covers over their landline phones (she still felt she'd done that poorly), she'd keep falling down on a single sentence and it would suck an hour from her morning.

Flo had visited the reclusive author Hibiki who lives in Onomichi. That was a pen name. Hibiki is a manga illustrator who wrote this book for fun. This meeting happened because Hibiki's partner Henrik Olafssen contacted Flo. She also met their cat Coltrane. She got permission from Hibiki to translate the book, and his blessing to send it across the world, but he would remain private. 

We readers are treated to this translated book within a book, and the whole novel ended with a 'Translator's Afterword'. Flo's. We see that she has gotten over the hump and ennui, and it meant everything to her to get this translated and published. She found her mojo again and gained new inspiration and insights. She has learnt that not to push her friends away and being more open with her emotions with those who genuinely care for her.

'Please, Flo-san,' he says, 'by all means, translate the book into English. You have my blessing. I myself have no interest in what happens to it, but I can see that it's important to you. That's what really matters — who am I to stand in the way of your dreams?'

I bow, and thank him profusely. We say our farewells, and just as he is about to leave the room, he pauses, as though something important has occurred to him. 'But if you do translate this book, Flo, you must promise me one thing.'

'What's that?'

'You must promise to make it your own.' He looks me straight in the eyes. 'Put something of yourself in it. So the readers get a sense of you.'

'I promise,' I say, bowing.

He turns to look at Coltrane, curly up on the floor of the tatami. His feet are twitching as he dreams. 'Oh, to be a cat,' he says. 'They dream, but they don't let their dreams consume them. That's the thing about humans — we feel like we have to make our dreams real. And that's what causes us such joy and discontent.'

There's a proverb used in this book: 「山あり谷あり」, literally 'there're mountains and there're valleys'. It's pretty much a reminder to us that there're ups and downs in life. We can only manage our own attitude towards our own lives and take control whenever we could, and leave it up to God when we can't. 

NAE:UM :: Episode 7 'Jeju Blossoms'

It was a brand new Episode 7: Jeju Blossoms at NAE:UM. The menu held loads of fish and shellfish. No beef, no quail, no pigeon, no chicken and no lamb. It was just pork and fish for the mains. My allergies are still flaring, but I didn't ask for menu swops. I took an antihistamine and hoped for the best. Figured that I could toss the shellfish over to the husband. 

The really cute starter box of each Episode never disappoints. In this Episode 7, there was a little dol hareubang / rock statue (many are seen dotting Jeju Island) in the box too, setting the tone for some Jeju Island specials. On the Signature menu, the starter of duck galbi could never seem to disappear. Hehehehe. This time, it was served with a wrap and they called it 'taco-galbi'. Dohhh. 

I loved the oi-naengguk (chilled cucumber soup). It was deftly boosted with sea snapper and seaweed, then the chilled cucumber soup/brine was poured over it. Really tantalizing. What a great appetizer. The ama ebi, radish and pine nuts came layered with a squid ink wrap. It was fun! I ate everything but the prawns. Gave them away to the husband.

My favorite NAE:UM somyeon is not on this menu. In its place is mul milmyeon, which is a Busan iteration of cold noodles / mul naengmyeon. This is a dombegogi memilmyeon of pork, buckwheat noodles, and white kimchi. Dombegogi is pretty much boiled pork placed on a board. It honestly paired well with mul milmyeon. Loved it!

The first main was a lovely golden threadfin with minari and sweet cabbage. I was soooo taken by it that I told myself to get a Balai threadfin (ikan kurau) to steam it as a snack for the Smol Girl. I wouldn't be able to buy a golden threadfin at Meidi-ya. 

The servers trotted out the box of knives for our selection to use for the meat. The second main of pork was a total hit for me. It was iberico presa, abalone and celeriac — absolutely perfect. Tender and flavorful. I wished there was a second slice of abalone too. Hurhurhur.

The first dessert of tangy tangerine ice-cream with shredded carrots and basil hit the right notes with me. It wasn't sweet — it was slightly sour and savory. That was sooooo good. Then it was my favorite jujube ice-cream with a bit of truffles and white chocolate topped with the familiar crisp charcoal leaf. The dagwa at the end came with kombucha (thankfully not so sour), candied tangerines, nuts and sweet sticky rice.

I'm very taken with the 'lighter' notes in this menu. A lot more fish and shellfish. Totally works for me. The husband loved it too. He's always enthusiastic by the menu switch. He loved the pigeon and the quail in the previous menus. He might have been a bit sad that this menu doesn't hold game-y meat.  

Perimenopause & Strength Training

Obviously conversations around me have been centering around endometriosis, early onset of menopause (medically defined as before 45 years old), hysterectomies, menopause after removal of ovaries, et cetera. And in many friends, the pain and tedium and anxiety of having to deal with cervical or ovarian cancer. 

Of course the onset of perimenopause looms big in my mind. I'm big on sorting out necessary annual medicals. (For the record, I don't think annual mammograms are necessary. LOL) I've just cleared this year's medicals. From a series of the blood tests done since last September, thyroid function checks, and from what I tell the gynaecologist, she doesn't think I'm in perimenopause yet. 

Once we hit 40, we can literally feel our metabolic rate slow down. We produce significantly less estrogen. It's not a simple matter of exercising to lose weight. You exercise to keep the core strong and the muscles supple to wrap your brittle bones. It's an uphill task to have our bones store enough calcium. Depending on your body type and how far you eat clean and exercise, that bulge around the stomach might simply be too stubborn, if your thyroid functions are hampered.  

More information needs to be shared among women about perimenopause. I'm glad to see a trend resurfacing about discussing menopause. More women writers are talking about. Fitness professionals are pointing it out. So let's not forget about perimenopause.

Rachel Zimmerman at The Washington Post wrote in a January 12, 2024 commentary, 

It was not a representative sample, but the answers were illuminating. The phrase, “not feeling like myself” was strongly associated with symptoms of fatigue, feeling overwhelmed or less able to cope, low mood and anxiety.

Notably, the phrase was not strongly correlated with two hallmark symptoms of menopause: hot flashes or vaginal dryness. The research was presented last fall at the annual meeting of the Menopause Society.

These findings and other published research suggest that in many women, the menopausal transition may start earlier than traditionally believed. A more nuanced understanding of what lurks behind the complaint of “not feeling like myself” could help women take better control of their health and allow clinicians to engage more effectively when patients share their concerns, researchers concluded.

Although they say perimenopause is the 3-5 years leading into menopause, many studies have indicated that a woman can be in perimenopause for up to 10 years. *gulp I have to make use of the time I have left before perimenopause to get those muscles built solid and oiled. Pilates has been part of my life for over two decades, and it would remain so. 

For many women, doing some sort of weekly exercising is better than nothing. That's great. For me and a few faeriefolk, we know that doing just cardio is insufficient. We need strength training. I went for BFT's 'Cardio Summit', used a 20kg Bulgarian bag and was quite annoyed by the amount of cardio done. It wasn't bad, but it was really all cardio. I didn't even ache the next day. That meant I really only fulfilled the cardio component — the muscles weren't actually isolated and worked on! 

My core is strong. It can be stronger. I need to keep it steady for another two or maybe three decades. I'm not joking when I say that I need these muscles to wrap my bones so that nothing breaks so easily when I fall. And I will fall; accidents happen. 

Resistance training is always in my routine. I hate cardio, so I have no choice but to consciously include it as well. I need to lift heavier or ermmm lift smarter. Lifting includes pulling myself up — which is why pull-ups are integral to my exercise routine. 

At the Stanford Center on Longevity, the team at Stanford Lifestyle Medicine aims to conduct research and provide reliable and updated guidance in healthy ageing and optimal performance. Stanford Lifestyle Medicine breaks it down for us in an advice published on July 11, 2023. 

To maximize the benefits for your muscles, research indicates that individuals that lift weights heavy enough to near failure in 4-6 reps see the largest gains in muscle strength when the exercise is maintained for 3-5 sets. For women new to strength training, this type of training regimen may require some getting used to, so it is okay to gradually work toward this goal over time, and prioritize safety at first.

Physical therapist and Pilates instructor Jessica Valant is someone I've followed on social media for years. She's consistent and inclusive. She also mentions osteoporosis and how we could try to slow it down. Gaaah. Osteoporosis is another big word that I'm wary of. It wouldn't affect all women, but it does affect many many women. And if we generalize, that's everyone. 

Jessica Valant recently went through a double mastectomy and reconstruction, and has really good advice on post-mastectomy exercises. For everything else, she urges everyone to keep moving. I quite like how she explains movements for exercising at home. She's clear and concise.

Rice and An Onsen Egg

I eat out a fair bit. I could cook, but often, the man has a different idea of what he wants to eat. Obviously I can't cook to meet all of those cravings. He could cook, but he's not allowed to unless I'm in the mood to clean up. Ha! On some nights, he would want an oyakodon. I wouldn't have enough time to even thaw out a chicken fillet. We'd pop out to a nearby yakitori restaurant. 

Is it me or are you thinking the same — many stalls at hawker centers and bistros, and even some restaurants have swopped out the quality of their rice from decent to something not very good. Different brands of Thai jasmine rice carry different qualities within the brand spectrum, and some straight up sell only the lower quality ones. The prices of rice and inflation within the supply chain decide the type of rice to be used at various eateries. The point-point rice stalls serve up the worst-tasting rice. Ah well. They're carbs. If I'm not burning them off, then I can skip the rice.

F&B is a tough industry to be in. Many F&B owners feel it even more now. By December 2023, we've seen 30+% increase in food prices, electricity and water. When Singapore doesn't produce much food to feed the population, and survives on imports, we're very much affected by the availability of global stocks and price surges. Prices at hawker centers soared to the highest ever. Sure, we can't ever have the prices we used to have when we were young adults, but even us could see the faster rate of increase from 2022 to today. *shudder

All I wanted for dinner tonight was a bowl of properly cooked Japanese white rice, an onsen egg and grilled chicken hearts. And maybe a highball. Decided to order an utterly unnecessary (and unhealthy) bowl of soy braised chicken skin too. I'm not fond of fried food. So these grilled and braised things are ideal for me.

Luckily this restaurant kept its standards. The Japanese rice was still of the same quality as I've tasted over the years. It was satisfying. Tonight, the bonito flakes atop the rice weren't necessary. Next time I should ask for furikake. 

The First Omakase Night at Kizuna

Kizuna has partnered young chefs to organize 'Cocktails X Izakaya Nights' from Thursdays to Saturdays. I think it sometimes offers its izakaya plates on Wednesdays too. Last weekend, Kizuna held its very first Omakase Night. We had to pop by!  

The cafe required a deposit and such. Of course. It's a small business and if people don't turn up, it will be detrimental to their takings. Every filled seat is valuable. This isn't a dinner menu of sashimi and sushi, so just chuck that out of your expectations. We didn't know what to expect either. But at this price point, we figured that it would be close to Piu M and Nobu-ya's kind of spread. We were right.

Tonight's menu had very decent market-fresh ingredients, of course. For a S$68++ menu, we had mountain yam (yamaimo) and okra, asari clam soup that had more sake than dashi (lol), pickled vegetables in miso, negitoro canapés, daikon salad, and a bowl bonito rice. There was dessert, but I seriously couldn't tell what I was eating. Ermmm... was it a dollop of custard of sorts? I was too busy talking and didn't bother noticing the dessert. 

We started with easy highballs that night. Then we moved on to sake. That was a beautiful bottle of Kosai Toraya junmai daiginjo from Miyagi Prefecture. We were pleasantly surprised by friends who came by towards the end of the meal. It was a last minute decision by M and E who decided to pop by to see if there's food for them. Unfortunately the kitchen couldn't accommodate. (And that's okay because everyone knew one another here.) So the friends got food from another eatery and joined us for drinks instead. A good chat we had! 

Didn't want Choya to miss out on food either. I got her sashimi in the form of a gorgeous slab of buri. (ブリ、鰤) The slab was spread over three meals. She had it first for lunch, a late afternoon snack, then supper. She had it with her usual raw base of venison, goat offal and kangaroo bone paste, randomly topped with cheese, yoghurt and some dried crackers. I also added on turkey neck. Mmmm.

The Smol Girl loves her fish. While she can't do salmon anymore (the oils give her the runs), she can still do shiny fish and white fish. At lunch, she sniffed her food in her bowl and went for the buri first. She was so so pleased.

I loved it that Kizuna is brave enough to attempt partnerships like this. The owners, married couple Shen and Sam, are realizing a shared vision, marrying their love for coffee, food and cocktails, and through those, built a strong community of friends and diners in Potong Pasir. 

Choya's lunch.

A Khatam, A Community, Its People and Their Stories

Opened up 'On the Night of the Khatam' by Jamil Jan Kochai, published in The New Yorker on February 19, 2024. It's a tale of hidden stories behind people, what more people who have seen blood, revolutions, death and wars. You wonder at their stories, their youth, and you remember them in death. What more could anyone do?

In this story, a khatam, is a party, and a gathering of Afghan refugees living in Sacramento. They gather to chat, pray and read the Quran. Although the hosts and their guests in this khatam come from different family backgrounds, stories and political affiliations in Afghanistan. Through the story, we see every name come alive with their quirks and health conditions and beliefs.  

Hajji Hotak is the host of this particular khatam. In general, only the men attended, and they don't bring their wives. However, Hajji Hotak's wife Bibik Hotak sent every wife a personal invitation to this one, and so every wife went along. And everyone somehow blamed their wives who made them turn up late to the khatam. LOL

until, inevitably, we found ourselves waiting in empty living rooms or pacing back and forth on dreary porches, every few minutes shouting up the stairs or into the house, or quietly muttering to ourselves that we were late, goddammit, forever late, forever late and waiting, our wristwatches ticking as if time had no meaning, as if we weren’t hurtling toward the oblivion we had seen in the gaping mouths of boys with guns, but our clever wives—plucking and pruning and painting themselves—paid us no mind, or else shouted back that when everyone is late no one is late, which is true, in a way, because if we had arrived at six in the evening, as instructed by Hajji Hotak, our host would have been horrified to see us standing at his front door an hour and a half before anyone else.

Fahim also attended. They call him 'Engineer Fahim'. He was accepted by the community until he descended into alcoholism. Then he's ostracized by the community because he's rather sober, and is a lousy alcoholic; behaving terribly when drunk. He had earlier wrote for a Communist paper in Kabul, criticizing the hardline, and stirred up all sorts of sentiments among the Khalqists, the Parchams and the Islamists. But he made his peace with the community because he died of cirrhosis three months after attending this khatam.

Ten minutes later, at exactly eight-fifteen, Sheikh Burhan barged into the house with a legion of disciples—mujahideen veterans and reformed Taliban and distant cousins and American-born students from his Islamic school. They squeezed themselves into the already cramped guest room as Hajji Hotak and two of his sons rushed about the house, collecting plastic lawn chairs and kitchen stools and swivelling desk chairs and the upstairs love seat and a purple beanbag. Sheikh Burhan glided swiftly through the carrousel of chairs in his enormous white thobe and aviator sunglasses, distributing hugs and cracking jokes and commenting on Hajji Kareem’s weight and Engineer Qasim’s dyed hair and Achakzai Sahib’s black eye and Hajji Hotak’s headstrong wife, which, we all knew, was a misstep by Burhan, though we didn’t expect Hajji Hotak to respond with, “It’s too bad, Burhan, that you couldn’t bring your first wife to the khatam,” an obvious allusion to the rumor that Sheikh Burhan had recently taken a second wife, in Karachi. We all hushed. Burhan towered over our host, but Hotak was built like a barn door. It would have been a good match in its day. Podcast: The Writer’s Voice Listen to Jamil Jan Kochai read “On the Night of the Khatam” 

“That’s because I’ve got a handle on my household,” Sheikh Burhan replied.

The unnamed narrator is Hajji Hotak's son. All we know is that he's a Ph.D student. Engineer Fahim died and had left him a 500-page manuscript that's supposed to be a novel — a story of a young poet in Kabul who is "swept up in the political machinations of a revolution." And we readers are left wondering if that's a novel of fiction or an actual biography of Engineer Fahim's earlier life, whom he never really told to anyone. 

The narrator doesn't seem have a story here. He literally narrates everyone else's stories. That's exactly what the author intended. In an interview, the author said, 

Initially, I tried writing this story in a singular first person, from the perspective of Hotak’s son, the unnamed Ph.D. student, but I found that the more I wrote the more the narrator disappeared into the story, into this chorus of other voices and opinions, and so eventually I just decided to let the singular first person evaporate into a collective voice, and it turned into this roving, bodiless, almost omniscient presence that is attempting to speak for (and about) the men in the story but, I think, is failing in the process. 

You know, it’s odd, because at a gathering like this you may find yourself witnessing intense moments of vulnerability. One man might describe how he was tortured as a prisoner of war, or another might recall the day his brother was hauled away from their home, never to be seen again. But, even amid these memories, these recollections, so much is left unsaid that you can leave the encounter feeling that you know even less about the person, or the community, than you did before. We speak and speak, we narrate, we attempt to communicate, and yet, the gulf widens, or, at least, becomes more mysterious.

A Yukhoe Bibimbap

I was doing a number of elimination things for food versus Vitamin D, ferritin levels and such for a whole year. No issues with cholesterol though. For a year and half, so I cut down harshly on beef. I also lost the appetite for giant steaks. 

I've just cleared my last medical. Now, I'm free to be back on however much beef I wish, and get a drink to go along with it. But the stomach still can't do much steaks, and if I do, I prefer them clean and lightly done with salt and pepper; nothing like those aged steaks please. 

Chang Korean Charcoal BBQ seems to be going strong. I'm still happy to pop by on week days to have dinner. We've been going there fairly regularly, and can tell the drop in standards, if that happens. The kitchen is holding their standards so far. That night we stopped by for dinner and we weren't disappointed. It was delicious. 

We were treated to a lovely spread of banchan. Ahhh... this restaurant indeed serves one of the best banchan selections in town. That night's banchan had potato salad, tamago-style omelette, daikon and white kimchi. Anchovies were a hot favorite too. The spread also included a small portion of ganjang gejang — the man devoured it. He was super pleased. 

The table got their usual grilled meats and jiigae that came with steamed white rice. I wasn't keen on jiigae or pajeon. They all held seafood inside, including clams, mussels, scallops and prawns. I passed on all that. I have to really avoid shellfish now. Antihistamines aren't exactly working. I might have overdone it and thought too highly of antihistamines. Anyway, my lips are not healing, and the eyes are itchy. So I need to stay off of shellfish for a few months. 

It rained so heavily through the evening. Made for a cool night out since we sat at an outdoor table. I decided against cold naengmyeon. Opted for a hot stone pot of beef and rice. A yukhoe bibimbap it was! Slurrrrrrp. I was pleased with dinner and the cold cold beer poured into small cute glasses. 

Festival Scams Aplenty

I read with amusement and a whole lot of sympathy for the attendees of the disastrous 'Willy's Chocolate Experience' in Glasgow that was scheduled for February 24 and 25. I took a look at the ticketing website hosted by House of Illuminati. Woah. That looked great, although it had nothing to do with the actual franchise held by Warner Bros. The photos that came out of the actual event were starkly bare. The event was then completely canceled during its pre-show preview... before the actual publicly ticketed show dates.

People who bought tickets yelled fraud. They had a completely disappointed and pared-down experience. Most didn't even see anything before the show's cancellation. Apparently, the worst part of it all was, there were no chocolates during the preview. Ugh. The New York Times reported,

Families in Scotland were expecting to taste chocolate treats and observe “optical marvels” at a Willy Wonka-themed event in Glasgow this past weekend. Instead, they got a couple of jelly beans, a short walk around a nearly empty warehouse and a visit from police officers.

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

The event was marketed like immersive experiences that have appeared in cities across the world in the last two decades, such as the Museum of Ice Cream in New York and “Van Gogh: The Immersive Experience.” 

The event’s website built on that suggestion but also hinted that the experience might be of questionable quality.

It promised “a journey filled with delicious treats, enchanting adventures, and moments worth capturing,” and it included elaborate, candy-colored illustrations. Those illustrations were marred by unusual misspellings and phrases, including: “a pasadise of sweet teats” and “exarserdray lollipops.”

This is like the children's version of Fyre Festival. Remember that 2017 debacle? They totally made a Netflix docufilm about that. That was such slick marketing with celebrities on the billboards too! The organizers milked everyone of US$26million! The founder Billy McFarland went to jail and is now freed and apparently wants to do Fyre Festival II. What the. LOLOLOL

Then we have our very own uproar over a sky lantern festival in Sentosa that never happened and full refunds aren't possible. The festival made no refunds, but has promised to reschedule to April, but it's doubtful if SCDF would issue them the necessary permits. It's highly debatable if the organisers even have the budget to set up safety protocols and security personnel to adhere to fire and crowd regulations. 

Slick social media reels and savvy marketing tactics can make any event or festival seem hip. If people buy into it, and the organizers are dubious, then we get a situation like this. Angry humans with monies lost to scams.

We have phone scams, e-commerce and love scams, and whatever scams. Then we have these sort of festival scams, concert ticketing scams and well, Taylor Swift ticket scams. Woah. Living in these tech-savvy times is a headache. Not to mention we'll have businesses (especially gyms and beauty salons) that open up and then abruptly close shop, leaving clients and members who bought packages in the lurch. Trust is so thin these days. 

Sunday Roast at COL

COL has a small menu for Sunday Roast every last Sunday of the month. It starts at noon and ends at 3pm. There's a 2.5-hour free flow for the alcohol of your choice, but you'll need to do 6 glasses to justify the price. Be warned that if you sit outdoors, it is SIZZLING. The corridor tables and chairs face the morning sun till about noon. The ceiling fans provide that bit of moving air, but are too high to actually cool. Bring your own fans.

The menu still held their usual pork and bacon, and also beef burgers, salad, vegetarian tomato and cheese tagliatelle and grilled octopus. But I was there for the roast — a Margaret River Stockyard rump of beef, slow roasted in beef fat, garlic and rosemary. I love Yorkshire pudding. Love the fluffy emptiness of it. Heh. I was very pleased with lunch.

There was a wagyu sanchoku prime rib from Stanbroke Queensland, but that didn't come in slices — it would be a supplement of 450g or so. That would be humongous. The husband took an organic half chicken brined for 12 hours and brushed with confit garlic oil. He considered having that grilled cabbage with harissa and yoghurt too, but it would be too much food. We had gone out to sea earlier, on a friend's yacht. While we needed this late lunch, the sun and sea spray oddly was tiring. So we weren't all that hungry. 

Didn't bother with dessert. We were too stuffed. The dessert selections had sticky date pudding and freshly baked madeleines sounded pretty decent! But not today. I didn't even bother with a second glass of prosecco. It was wayyyy too hot out here.