Lo Hey Seafood

Between Hey Kee and Lo Hey, I very much prefer the comfortable vibes of Lo Hey. We would be taking an outdoor table anyway, but Lo Hey's floors at One Holland Village are kinder to Choya's elbows and knees, as opposed to Hey Kee's rough asphalt concrete truly reflective of its dai-pai-dong style. 

Lo Hey's kitchen seems to be less trigger happy with the salt. When I ate at Hey Kee, I thought it was mad salty, even for my standards. *shudder Overall, Lo Hey seems much better at managing its salt levels than its sister outlet. I really like its current ‘unlimited no corkage’ policy. That’s quite a huge draw for me. But I wasn’t keen to drink tonight. The man took a light beer. 

I had my fill of choy sum with shrimp paste. I wanted the steamed pork patty with cuttlefish. It was delicious. The steamed garlic bamboo clams with vermicelli were huge and super tasty. If you like vermicelli done this way, then this is absolutely your kind of shellfish dish.

The man didn't feel like peeling crabs. But he wanted the lobster. He opted for the lobster to be done in typhoon-shelter style. Sure. It's the golden coating of fried breadcrumbs, very unoffensive. Although I prefer my lobster steamed, not stir-fried. 

The rest of the dishes were pretty tasty. Nothing not too nice, expect the stir-fried pig stomach with white pepper was seriously peppery, rendering it tasting of nothing else but pepper. Zzzzzz. My problem with the pepper used is — it isn't good fragrant pepper. It's just brainless white pepper with no depth. 

I couldn't deal with the soup of Xinjiang hami melon sea conch with chicken. The ginseng and danggui used in it were ridiculous, even for people who can take these herbs. There were some pork ribs used, but the chicken was overpowering. I took a spoonful and left it. The menu also offers a pig's stomach soup, but I think they also douse that with herbs, making it horrible for me. This is why I cannot do expensive Chinese soups at restaurants unless they really don't bother with herbs. Those and chicken combined literally send me into anaphylaxis.

To Bakalaki Greek Taverna with Choya

I'm very pleased that Bakalaki Greek Taverna in its Martin Road location, set up outdoor tables in February and began to welcome pets. I've stopped by this convenient location for a few times now. Choya is happy here too, but yes, fans are a must. Otherwise I'd just melt. 

The only issue with the al fresco area, there isn't a fan at all. This corridor isn't a wind tunnel, so the unrelenting humidity doesn't ease up in the evenings. Lunches here are practically impossible. Be prepared to sweat or bring your own portable fans. 

The taramasalata is always superb. We had it as a full portion, then we also had it as a platter that also included the eggplant dip and hummus. The only problem with dips — they fill us up pretty quickly if we don't have a full table to share them with. With pita bread, these literally become a main. 

The grilled sea bream was lovely too. I'd totally just order this as my one main. The seafood here should be expectedly excellent. We had the beef here as skewers, which came with fries, tzatziki, onions and tomatoes and pita bread, and also had it as slow-cooked oyster blade beef in a claypot with tomato sauce and orzo pasta. The latter was robust and perfect to end the night with.

Thanks to Choya's cuteness, we got complimentary dessert twice. Ahahah. No lah. The servers know us and would like us to return; they're really sweet. We also ermm had bottles of champagne. So it's just fairly decent hospitality going on.

HKB's 'ALICE'

Hong Kong Ballet’s (HKB) ‘ALICE (in wonderland)’ spared no expense on costumes, sets and colors. It was a riot of fun and laughter at its shows. We opted for the Sunday matinee since that suited our schedules. And yes, we know that ballet or theatre matinees of this sort would be attended by many children and their parents. 

I appreciated how the HKB cooperated with Singapore dancers too. There were 100 young dancers (from 7 to 17 years old) from Singapore who danced alongside the company as 'baby flamingoes', 'small doors', 'piglets', 'gerber daisies', 'junior cards' and 'hedgehogs'. They were rather adorable.

It wasn't too noisy along our row and around us. Any random chatter was quickly shushed by the parents. I was feeling in rather forgiving mood with the chatter since this wasn't a formal ballet performance in that manner. It was meant to be a fun ballet anyway — see the visuals, skip the critique of the techniques — the music told me as much. IMHO, the company isn't technically superb. The dancing was earnest and effortful though. It still made for an enjoyable show for the adults. 

Baia is a convenient stop after a matinee show at the Esplanade. It's also a nice venue to chill out at between shows. But it isn't a place I want to be at during the F1 weekend since I'm not keen on the whole shebang associated with the event. I rolled eyes at Baia's own description as a "high octane lifestyle destination". Even its cocktails are described as "high octane". 

Well, overall, this place isn't that new anymore. It opened to much fanfare. Unfortunately it didn't impress us much. The food is brainless and thoughtless since it's really not a restaurant per se; its service staff are still very noob. The menu for wines and cocktails are decent, but super pricey for whisky and gin. 

We stuck to a simple bottle of pinot gris, and some light bites to fill the stomach. Portions are small but perfect for us three who didn't want to eat a lot. We had the loveliest conversation after not seeing one another for a few months!

Steaks at Wooloomooloo

Opted for Wooloomooloo Steakhouse for dinner with V. I haven't popped in for a while and I have mostly forgotten its flavors. I also haven't gone to a steakhouse for quite some time. The steaks eaten have been just chosen off the menu at other non-steak restaurants. It was nice to sit down to dinner after a looong day of calls and churning out papers. 

We skipped the starters. I wouldn't have any space of anything extra. Just steaks for us tonight, and some sides. Wooloomooloo does its steaks beautifully lah. Our 210g grass-fed Australia tenderloin came done exactly to what we requested for — medium rare for V, and medium for me. These steaks have been wet-aged 3-4 weeks. Okay lor. This is still a much more acceptable flavor over dry-aged beef. Dry-aging is pretty much controlled decomposition, and it honestly produces more tender meats. But I'll take wet-aging any day over dry-aging.  

The starter of onion bread served was still tasty. The potato purée was still delicious; nothing too liquid and full of blended potato-goodness. Mmmm. V also wanted its fries, and for nutritional quotas, we had grilled asparagus. There was also some sprouts-salad drizzled with balsamic that came served with the steaks. V chose a lovely bottle of wine that opened up beautifully and complemented the rich meat and easy potatoes. 

In her reservation, V indicated that we were celebrating a birthday, so the restaurant placed cute little birthday tags and also included a complimentary slice of cake with candle as dessert. That was completely unexpected, and it was a nice gesture. I felt absolutely pampered tonight. Great company and conversation, good food and such a delightful evening. The restaurant will be closed a week for renovations before reopening on 2 March 2025. I shall hop in then and see what's new. 

Old Friends and Long Friendships

Wasn't sure I wanted to hear about a decades-long friendship between two men who worked in the movie industry. It's just... you know. That era and men. Anyway, I did. It's David Rabe's 'My Friend Pinocchio' published in The New Yorker on February 2, 2025.

Narrator Donny and his old friend Kenny met in graduate school (theatre studies), and have a long-lasting friendship although they're vastly different people who went through different circumstances, trajectories and difficulties. You see it clearly in them visiting a sex shop that Kenny wanted to check out, then Donny took him to visit an ashram after. Donny remained friends with Kenny till the latter died from a terminal disease at a hospice. It sounded like Alzheimer's or a similar debilitating type of dementia.

Kenny felt that he was Pinocchio, or "like Pinocchio", and that he wasn't real. It was never really explained why and how. Readers are left to surmise that on their own. We are allowed a glance into Kenny's friends' thoughts about him, if we wondered his life was tragic. 

He scared me a little. Actually, quite a lot. I’ll admit it. I wasn’t sure what to say to him. He didn’t understand what was happening to him, and I didn’t, either. One call turned into a rant about his mother. Every name in the book, punctuated by “manipulative.” As I listened, I couldn’t help but think about a time when he’d stood in the doorway of his son’s bedroom, looking in on me lying down to sleep in his son’s bed. This was during a visit I’d initiated some years back. Our friendship had lasted for more than thirty years by that point. The visit was impulsive on my part; I cast myself up on his doorstep, seeking refuge. This was well before his brain fog, before his “walk on the wild side.” Before a lot of things. 

I stayed for a while. Every evening, we’d say good night. I’d go to bed, but he would stay up. I’d hear him pacing around, maybe talking on the phone. Sometimes he’d bang on the drum he’d brought back from one of the poet Robert Bly’s men’s retreats. I was in awe that he’d actually gone to one of those. That he’d dared to be vulnerable with strangers, talking, playing his drum, maybe dancing.

We are privy to the ups and downs of Donny and Kenny's separate lives, and how their friendship developed and evolved, and managed to hold on strong. It isn't so much of any observation of people in the film industry, thank goodness, but it's a story about a platonic friendship between two men. 

The 84-year-old author and well, playwright and screenwriter (father of the Rabe siblings Lily, Michael and Jason) said that this is a freestanding short story. In an interview with the same magazine, the author explained the scene in the story's screenplay that Kenny wrote, 

Because Donny is telling the story, Kenny is observed throughout, seen only from the outside. Donny conjectures at times about Kenny’s feelings, and Kenny expresses himself verbally, but we are never inside his mind. The screenplay he writes offers a glimpse into his inner life. It’s indirect, but it resonates, I hope, somewhat like the Pinocchio story. Arturo, the character in the screenplay, is weak, sick, dying. His mother arrives at his bedside and he doesn’t want her there, but she stays. She fusses and, after he asks her not to, she persists, as if his requests were of no consequence. Kenny feels pride and excitement at what he has accomplished by creating the scene—he feels expressed by it.

I suppose the tragedy in long-term friendships is when we have to witness one another's illnesses, trials, decline in health, become helpless, and eventual death. This is something we all have to go through, but no one us wish to think about it much. 

We'll all get there. We don't know who's going to die first, and of what. Some of us have already gone ahead. Those, we'll miss. And we wonder when is our turn. Mortality looms huge as we inch closer to 50 years old, or we're already on the other side of the century.

The one thing that irked me a little in the methodology used to write the story, is the messiness of time. This literary device in skipping here and there in the recall of the friendship and its bits and pieces made me roll eyes. In the same interview, the author explained why he chose not to write in a linear way. 

The narrator, Donny, gives us the history of this friendship not in a chronological way but jumping through time, forward and backward, circling around and returning to various elements of his friend Kenny’s life. Why was it important that the story line not be linear?  

In a sense, the story wants to reflect the patterns of memory. Sometimes its progression from one event to another is directed by logic or sequence. At other times, and maybe more often, the narrative is driven by associations, as memory tends to be. The impetus or emotion of a moment calls up something from the past, even something long past, that needs to be looked at again, rethought. I hoped that by using the patterns of memory I could achieve a certain sense of intimacy—the texture of friendship. One person remembering another and himself with that other.  

Abalone and A Truck-Load of Minced Garlic!

Going to a Chinese restaurant for dinner doesn't mean I need to leave stuffed. Just order prudently. Tonight at Yan Ting, I didn't feel like something super heavy for either. S doesn't have a giant stomach. So we decided on just three items to be shared between us. 

We settled for an abalone and a homestyle seafood mee sua. The abalone came with a small bit of broccoli. Each time I see broccoli, I grin. I have been pronouncing it as bork-ko-li. Well, I was steaming them for the floofs. BORKKOLI sounds about right. S wanted asparagus, so a stir-fried version satisfied her need for greens. 

S said she didn't want to do alcohol tonight. So I didn't bring any. I looked at the wine menu and they've clearly refreshed it. Not too bad now. I decided to have a glass. In the end, the drinkable glass became a bottle split between us. LOL I even thought that minced garlic and chilli padi went well with tonight's easy pinot noir. Hahahaha. I had TWO servings of minced garlic.

Fiasco by Juice

I almost never bother popping by this sort of new openings anymore, because I'm not as hip. However, we have rather hip and happening friends who made reservations at Fiasco by Juice, and we ended up there for dinner. It's always nice to check out new eateries with friends to share the carbs and fats. Heh!

This is clearly a wine place and not so much about the food. The menu isn't extensive, but it would do. We had starters of flatbread, bean pureé, pretty decent fried cheese balls, and the underwhelming (after all that hype) shredded duck in fried dough balls (bebek guling). The wine list is pretty extensive, but not cheap either. You would be better having bottles. Drinking by the glass isn’t the idea here unless all you want is one glass. Which was what I wanted tonight.

Mains came in the form of steak and frites, and a fish. The steak and frites were good. Quite classic. The triple-cooked fries were done well. The fish was a thick fillet of snapper. The snapper was aged. I cringed. I'm not fond of aged fish at all. Haizzzzzz. There's this stink that I'm not hot about. It's present in every aged fish that gets served as a main and not a ceviche. But many new chefs now seem to like aging fish and serving those as a main. Whyyyyyy.

In the day, Fiasco is a coffeeshop offering small bites and sandwiches for lunch. By night, this gastrobar/wine bistro is so hip till my head hurts. While it isn't too dark, the lighting is weird and the hues of blue and purple kinda hurt my eyes. IT'S NOT ME and IT'S NOT AN AGE THING. If you have stopped by this gastrobar in the nights, you'd know what I mean. 

屋企嘅餐肉蛋飯

I couldn't get the idea luncheon meat out of my head after watching the play and smelling it cooking over the weekend. Of course I had to indulge in a can of luncheon meat. 'Spam Lite', this can stated. Surrrre. I don't fry up spam as often now. It is highly processed meat. So I'm more conscious about eating it, but it doesn't mean that I'm less enthusiastic about it. 

I'm not that big on spam fried rice. That would do, but I prefer to eat it as spam with Japanese short-grain rice, a sunny-side up, and bok choi. This combination is my ultimate comfort meal. It's very hard to get this at the food centers. The 'best' iteration is to assemble this plate myself. I get to choose my vegetables. 

I steamed up chicken for the dog and the husband. Stir-fried bok choi. The electric rice cooker settled the husband's basmati grains. I wanted short-grain rice which was boiled in the donabe on the stovetop. Then proceeded to fry up spam. It truly isn't as oily as the old-school Ma Ling luncheon meat. Spam Lite is also easier on the grease, but additional oil is still not necessary in searing these slices.

While I waited for my rice to settle in the donabe, I fried up eggs. The dog and the husband ate their dinner first. Then I cleaned up a little. Then it was time for my dinner. Ahhh...... what a comforting meal. Spam is still satisfying! Heh.

华艺节 ::《最后的午餐肉》

A commissioned work under the Esplanade's Huayi incubation program, 'Last Luncheon'《最后的午餐》by Le Jeu Studio (乐者工作室) is written, directed and performed solo by Alvin Chiam (詹辉振). 

There is no dialogue to speak of. The narration and voice came from a cassette tape recorder. Wow. I had almost forgotten that cassette tapes could be recorded over repeatedly, and there are two sides to them. The tapes depict different stages in the narrator's life. What we audience see here, the setting seems to be 40 days after his wife has passed away. At some point earlier in their lives, they had a child who had died too. They grieved that loss, and it seemed as though they didn't have more children after. 

Every day, an elderly man eats a can of luncheon meat, to keep a promise to his wife. Alone and adrift, he revisits past moments and memories, in search of meaning and closure. As the days pass, he gets closer to his last can of luncheon meat.

After decades in the scene honing his craft, Singapore theatre practitioner Alvin Chiam writes, directs, and performs in his first solo work, a rumination on the meaning of solitude.

Inspired by Krapp’s Last Tape by Samuel Beckett, Chiam invites the audience on this groundbreaking journey with him. Choosing a minimalist approach, Chiam compels the audience to focus on him, to delight in his exterior actions, but more importantly, to look beyond that and see his character’s inner world.

'Last Luncheon' is a short play clocking in at 1hr 30 minutes. That was a relief compared to two other three-hour plays  ('Rickshaw Boy'《骆驼祥子》and 'Human Condition VIII' 《人间条件八– 凡人歌》) I had watched. They were decent, but I didn't feel like writing about it or breaking it down. One was literally what I studied in school and had watched a few versions of it since Lao She (老舍) is like the preeminent name in Chinese plays. The other just went on too much like a Taiwanese soap; and family dramas are always annoying.

This play is paced slow, interspersed with monologues from the cassette tapes played or Hokkien/Cantonese/Chinese songs that came on, and obviously meant something to the narrator. The play also saw the actor boiling up instant noodles and eating them. Then towards the end, he opened up and fried up a can of luncheon meat. Wahhh. The theatre studio was filled with those smells. Nothing lingering, but it certainly triggered my craving for spam.

At the end of the show, theatre-goers filed out and were handed door gifts of frozen potong ice-cream. So old-school! Red bean was the flavor, I think. I was quite tickled, but I didn't take any. If they had handed out cans of luncheon meat, I would happily take it!

The playwright said, that he wanted to create a play that depicts how people tend to live in their golden years, a reality that faces many people who seemingly have a happy family even at middle age. Loneliness is a perpetual issue with the everyone, especially the elderly.

“It has been an unconscious goal to explore solitude since the very beginning of this creation; the sheer realisation that loneliness is ubiquitous, is silently by our side since the day we were born…When change hits us, there is grief, remorse, or emptiness…Solitude will take us into her arms. A quiet world as such, some remain vanquished, some are redeemed, while some may still be waiting…” 

Ahhh That Bowl of Fluffy Rice!

Of course I had to make a lunch at Suju with dearest J. I didn't want fancy, I wanted a good bowl of rice and some well cooked meats or vegetables. These are my comfort foods, and they don't trigger my stomach. I have no intention to have to run to the bathroom from greasy burgers or velouté or crème fraîche nibbles. 

It's super hard for me to move away from Suju's shogayaki teishoku; unless I'm eating here thrice in a week, then I'd pick something else. J opted for the negitoro-don today. Decided to skip the tofu salad. We didn't have enough stomach space. Heh!

J asked for less rice in her bowl. I had a full bowl of it, and inhaled everything. When I find a restaurant that serves Japanese rice at a good quality, I ain't even leaving a grain. We even had a lunch-time indulgence of one glass of umeshu-soda. 

Conversation was sterling, as usual. We simply continued our long tests IRL. J insisted on getting lunch. Wheeee. Ahhh... this was such an indulgent treat. I didn't waste any food! This block of time with a fellow astute and sane mind, and appreciated humor was a much needed respite this week. 

The Series of 'Undercover Dish Mysteries'

I wasn't intending to read 'The Big Chili' (2015) by Julia Buckley. But I had free time and books like this don't take more than 45 minutes to go through. This title is the first in a series by the same author, collectively named 'Undercover Dish Mystery'. 

The foods featured are typically American, and the author is a good cook who is looking to cook professionally. The author obviously loves writing mysteries and has a few other series under her belt. 

The series is similar to Vivien Chien's many titles collectively known as 'Noodle Shop Mystery', although it's set differently with the protagonist Lana Lee not being able to cook but her family runs an Asian restaurant, and all the murders features Asian cuisine. Vivien Chien's first book in this series was published in 2018.

Narrator and intrepid genius cook Lilah Drake lives in Pine Haven with her black Labrador Mick and works rather hard at her Covered Dish business. Alice Dixon dropped dead at the church's bingo night after tasting a spoonful of Perpetua Grandy's, otherwise known as Pet, famous chili. Alice was poisoned. It was cyanide. The catch, Pet didn't cook it. Lilah did. That was kept a huge secret all the way through. 

It's a slow start, but tedious. Then it moved a little faster, albeit predictably. Lilah also wanted to know who the murderer is, especially after another townsfolk was killed and at the end of it all, the mystery was solved. Alice Dixon wasn't a well-liked figure in town. Everyone had a motive to kill her. But the one who truly did so, was way passionate about animal rights, and held a grudge against Alice for years, and with a declining mental state, didn't take kindly to her insulting her sisters either. 

Of course there's the mention of romance and all with the investigating detective, a certain Jacob 'Jay' Parker. He never got back to dating Lilah after one kiss because she never came clean about her part in cooking the chili that killed Alice. 

Now I walked with Mick down a November-gray street, wet with recent rain. There's something lovely about November, despite its bare trees and sad gray skies. It is reminder of the solemnities of life, and its starkness is as satisfying as stripped-down wood, as honest as a haiku. This weather, this season, made me want to be honest, as well. I faced the fact that I was twenty-seven and unlucky in love, but blessed with a good family, some solid talents, and a healthy enough constitution that I would probably live for many more decades. It was time for me to take control. I told Mick this as we walked, and he seemed to approve. 

By the time we returned to Dickens Street and our beloved home, we were in a good place. 

For fun, I read the three other books in the series. I have to say that the plots are nothing very intellectual or even interesting. It reads like small town gossip. But okay. Whatever. Heh. 

You'll have to read the entire series to find out if Jay and Lilah eventually get together. They reconciled by the second book 'Pudding Up with Murder' (2017), but are still somewhat stuck at dating and nothing too serious since "their schedules were surprisingly incompatible." They do eventually get serious— by the fourth book in the series 'A Fatal Fettucine' (2021). 

It's rather cute that at the end of each book, the author included rather detailed recipes of the dishes mentioned — say Book 1 has Pet's Chili, Lilah's "Company's Coming" Scones, Lilah's French Toast Casserole, Fiesta Bake, and Angelo's Eggplant Parmigiana. 

Book 2 has 'Pudding Up with Murder' (2017) has Lilah's Rice Pudding Casserole, Lilah's Raspberry-Almond Deep-Dish Coffee Cake, Lilah's Egg and Dill Delight, Cameraon Drake's Mushroom Collezione. Obviously I'm not attempting any of these recipes. I'm not keen on cooking or baking, and these don't quite appeal to me. Not even fettucine.

Kueh Pie Tee & Popiah

It was pretty awesome of C and D to have us over at their home for dinner, along with all the floofs! Mogi is the Boss-Pup and host. C said he has never had 'friends' over in this manner, so she herself was a tad nervous to have four floofs in the same space. But they always hang out together, and they get along well, so we thought to try. C is so brave and gracious. 

There was yusheng for lo-hei, of course. Some people in our midst needed to hit 10 lo-hei this season. Our yusheng platter from Donki tickled me to no end. It held no shredded vegetables (quite normal), so the friends ditched it. Since B bought and brought roasted meats of siew yoke and char siew from Maxwell Food Center, we used those instead — added them to the platter to be tossed. The friends coined it 'babi-sheng'. Hehehehe.

D and C whipped up a whole pot of itek tim, and painstakingly shredded ingredients for kueh pie tee and popiah! These, took them the whole day to prep, and a lot of shredding and boiling were done. All of us totally appreciated their efforts. We ate loads, and ate them all. We couldn't finish everything, of course. But we made a sizeable dent.

While I don't bother with the contents of the itek tim, the others do. So they happily ate up the duck meat and everything else in there. I simply went for the soup, which was really excellent. The saltiness from the salted vegetables were wonderful. For a second, I almost wanted it more salty, but never mind. This would do beautifully. Hurhurhur.

M loves kueh pie tee and went for broke, completely ignoring the popiah skin. I ate one token kueh pie tee. Then I ditched it in favor of popiah. I like that a lot better than the crispy kueh pie tee shell. I didn't bust the popiah shell. Filled each one conservatively with the ingredients evenly. The bangkwang was really the star, My final count was seven pieces of popiah. I was absolutely stuffed. 

There was cake for dessert, and more wine. There was even durian, of which only D and D wanted to eat. Hahaha. None of us could tahan durians. Those two gleefully ate the four seeds specially frozen and kept for tonight.

The four floofs were completely chilling out. There's Diva the cat in the room, but he was pretty much left alone since the safety gate did its job and kept all nosy floofs out of the rooms. We simply took turns going into the room to give Diva head and neck rubs. Every floof was rather polite and did their own thing and found their own spot. Mogi was quite the perfect gentleman. He was comfortable with all the humans and chilled out easy with his floof-guests. Yayyyyy.

Toppers for Four Floofs!

Since the humans would get a great homecooked dinner, I decided to cook toppers for the floofs too. They could add that to their base foods for dinner tonight, and their meals over the next 1.5 days. Thought I would have them try amaebi. There's something about amaebi cooked that is absolutely fragrant. And in an egg scramble, the entire thing turns out super appetizing. 

By now, I know what these floofs can take. So for my planned menu tonight, I know Mogi can’t do chicken, and by extension, no eggs for him either. Ozi can’t do beef and lamb, but loves eggs and do well on them. Clyde and Choya are fine with all of these proteins. 

I would go lighter on the amount of amaebi in their portions in case any floof can't tolerate them well. Cooked amaebi should be quite all right. Choya is the only one who can take amaebi raw. She ate them raw that on the day I bought the pack, and a little on the second day before I seared the whole batch. 

One pan held three portions of amaebi scramble with chicken. These were for Ozi, Clyde and Choya. I even had extras pieces of chicken seared for Ozi and Choya. In the other skillet, I seared a beef flank for Mogi. Didn’t leave it pink; cooked them through. All the food included bits of kale and carrots too. Mind you, these are simply toppers I'm doing. It's not a balanced meal. These lack bone/calcium, secreting organs and offal. #ImpieCooks2025

I had a beef tenderloin wagyu that wasn’t too fatty. So Choya had bits of that raw, and bits seared blue. She loves her raw meats lah. I sear them for her for a change in flavors and textures that she also enjoys enormously. I packed her a little portion to be eaten at Mogi's home. So she wouldn't feel too left out. 

Ozi had her amaebi scramble first. Bahahaha. She smelt the egg and couldn't wait! Mogi knew I had food in the bag for him. He was allowed a bit as a topper for dinner tonight. His mama portioned it out for him. He had his dinner at the back. I found a spot for Choya to nibble at a corner. They all finished their food just before Clyde arrived. Yayyy. Clyde had her dinner and would take her toppers home to have supper and for the next day. 

Comfort Food at Kizuna

I didn't want to do fancy meals, right, and wanted to keep to my usual schedule. I also cannot go crazy on the drinking because of the gym schedule — am totally reined in. On the usual weekend, we made a trip up to Potong Pasir and zoomed straight to Kizuna for a dependable izakaya-style casual dinner. 

S and N caught me and tied me down to this date. They were very pleased at the casual-ness of it all. They cycled over from Bishan Park. I assured them that it's such a short distance that nobody would be stinking very much. Tehehehehe. 

This must be the most pork jowl I have ever eaten. This N. I never knew she loves pork jowl this much. And Kizuna's version is honestly great. We had a total of FOUR orders of pork jowl and inhaled three bowls of white rice. Kizuna takes some pride in offering good Japanese rice, unlike the lower quality ones in other restaurants. The husband and S stuck to their fav garlic fried rice.  

E and M hopped in much later and the party got underway. I wisely avoided all the cocktails, moved around and even took the dog for a stroll. Nobody knew that I didn't drink that much. H trotted out two trays of shots; TWICE. I had to try damn hard to avoid those too. At the end of the night, I totalled four highballs and 1 shot of whisky. That was pretty okay. HAHAHAHAHA.

Stay healthy, dear friends. Doing life together is much more fun.

Highballs & Light Bites

The BFF hauled all of us (including the dog) out for dinner at the very convenient Mikoto. All I could think of was its steamed cabbage and pork. HAHAHA. Of course I ordered that. I do love how the kitchen doesn't bother salting it. They just provide salt and ponzu sauce on the side.

The otoshi changes every other day. It is chargeable, and we never minded it because it's quite delicious. Today was an oden thing of tofu-skin money bag (mochiri kinchaku) topped with a choi sum of sorts. Started with potato salad and another salad of cold tofu fried whitebait. We had easy drinks. Just two highballs each. 

The husband had his happy fish, mentaiko pasta, and even a small chicken pizza. Wahhh. Luckily the BFF gave up ordering her own plate of carbs. Told her to share it with us. She was stuffed. She took a few spoonfuls of my steamed white rice too. Mikoto charges S$6++ for a bowl of rice that comes with miso soup, and because it's priced as such, the quality of the rice was rather decent. I like it.

Guanciale & Cheese!

Popped over to J and L's for a casual night. We were treated to a lovely batch of pasta because L wanted to use up her guanciale bought on her Italy trip.

It was a delicious bowl of aglio e olio pasta with guanciale and cheese. The tastiest. The simple pasta was by no means no effort to whip up in the kitchen. It still required attention and work. L cooked the pasta super fresh, literally when we arrived so that it was served to the table piping hot. Mmmmm. I ate three helpings. Totally not shy. So I ditched the garlic bread. The others finished it. Heh.

Prepped an angpow for the godson. He totally knew the assignment — accepted the angpow with a grin and agreeably placed it on the side table for his parents to retrieve and safekeeping. Heh! 

Choya somehow, was in a pretty good mood and allowed the godson to rub her back and rub cheeks, and follow her around. The parents have been teaching him how to approach dogs, and he is super polite with Choya. This girl knows that there's plenty of cheese in this kitchen, and Aunty L is the Giver of Cheese. So she patiently plays with the godson in order to secure her cheese supply. HAHAHAHA.

The Restaurant of Lost Recipes

Since I enjoyed the 'Kamogawa Food Detectives', I had to continue with checking out the adventures of retired police detective and excellent home-chef Nagare Kamogawa and his daughter Koshi, and all the fun they get up to at the Kamogawa Diner in Kyoto. 

We now have 'The Restaurant of Lost Recipes' by Hisashi Kashiwai (originally published in 2014), translated by Jesse Kirkwood into English and published in October 2024. I borrowed this book, and read it super fast because of the long waiting list (our NLB) after me. This is what I call 'focused reading', not scanning. 

In this book, we have six stories — six diners coming to Kamogawa Diner to track down lost memories of favorite dishes and lost recipes. They were also wanting to seek closure for the relationships in their lives. Drowsy the cat is still hanging around by the diner's front door. Each dish makes a chapter of 'search and cook'. There are requests to make 'Nori Ben', 'Hamburger Steak', 'Christmas Cake', 'Fried Rice', 'Ramen', and 'Ten-Don'.

'Christmas Cake' is the odd one out. The food of focus isn't savory. It's a cake, a western style cake. Chef Nagare Kamogawa cooks savory items, and has never baked in his life. Yet he acceded to Yoshie and Masayuki Sakamoto's request to hunt down a Christmas cake that is in memory of their son who died in a car accident at ten years old. They couldn't let go of him even after six years. And this Christmas is pivotal for them in deciding how to continue with their fourth-generation family-owned Japanese confectionery store when they have no blood heir.  

The cake, about twenty centimetres in diameter, was covered with whipped cream and topped with a layer of strawberries, among which nestled a marzipan Santa and a large chocolate star.

This diner is also only open in the day at lunch, and is closed at night. The chef and Koishi use this time to prep for the next day's work/business and wind down. Being sited in a nondescript building, and with no signboard put up (intentionally so), it does make it easier for the potential clients to find this place in daylight.

I'm also very interested what Chef Nagare cook for the clients and diners at lunch. It's a kaiseki of sorts, home-style. Those honestly sounded really delicious. Eating those at lunch and lingering over good food would be awesome. The description of the dishes made me hungry, and induced a craving for similar dishes.

The whole point of these stories in in the investigative details to secure the dish's flavors that each client requested. It's never about what happens after or the choices the clients eventually make after tasting the flavors of their memories. I enjoy the author's effort to connect lost recipes to the present-day clients. 

As dedicated as Nagare and Koishi are to the deceased Kikuko's memory (Koshi's mom and Nagare's wife), when this entire book's diners' requests are based on parent-child relationships, the stories lost me for a bit. I simply see generational trauma in each person and the indelible mark left. I don't care if they made up with said parent. I never cared for the characters either. To be honest, their stories are too clichéd. I'll just focus on the food, which is what I did in the first book. The food is interesting to me, not quite the full stories if they aren't suited for my...... palate.

I don't think I have a favorite story in this book. I didn't mind 'Fried Rice'. Koishi's high school friend Hatsuko is now a famous model, and a Mr Keita Kakuzawa has proposed marriage to her. She has been raised by her wealthy aunt and uncle who never had kids of their own, so they gave her everything. However, Hatsuko doesn't tell the world much about her growing up years or mention about her dead parents because of the possible societal shame involved. Before she accepted his marriage proposal, she wanted to tell her fiancé about her family.

In this story, fried rice was the one dish Hatsuko wanted to make for her fiancé because that was the one dish she remembered from childhood, the one dish her mother had made for her and it gave her happy memories. That fried rice was PINK and held a fishy flavor.

Chef Nagare tracked down the stories and linked it to Hatsuko's hometown and memories. He found out that Hatsuko's mother's fried rice appeared pink in a child's memory because of the pink-ish fish sausages used, and kamaboko flakes used instead of bonito flakes. The kamaboko flakes were made from kamaboko fish cake. The fried rice was also slightly tart from the seasoning, which was a mix of shredded shio-kombucha and sour plum. And sour plum was pink too.

'Thanks,' said Hatsuko, pursing her lips as they rose to leave. 'I just feel like until he's eaten that fried rice, he won't know the real me.'

Turning 47

My heart has beaten for 47 years. How long more, I wonder. An adult female's heart weighs between 230-300g. That doesn't seem like much huh, but it is the one powerhouse keeping everything running. I'm not sure what more I can do to improve heart health. I just keep everything I eat and drink in check, and in moderation. 

47. 

What weighs heavy on the heart? 

What have I achieved at 47?

Life and living to me is not about achieving social or family milestones. It's not about gaining medals or accolades or societal recognition. When getting excellent academic grades came easy to me, I started wondering what else is beyond academic achievements. I didn't walk the path the parents set for me. I didn't want to be the CEO of anything, and I knew for sure I never want to be the CEO of any business either. I don't have the smarts to be a CFO of any sort either. I like assisting. I like being an assistant. I like being No.3 or No.5 in a hierarchical structure of either a corporation or a charity. I like fading into the background. Let me do my job quietly.

The country of birth and the family born into create privileges that allow for more privileges. What I choose to do with these given privileges is how I decide what to do with my adult life. I've never had an identity crisis. I'm not given to feeling imposter syndrome or anything inadequate. Since I was a kid, I've been told that I'm an overachiever. I've always been comfortable in my own skin doing what I want to do even as 'elders' question me. This confidence that I've had since I was a kid, never diminished. I've not lost it. I do things as I deem fit, not as what society sees as appropriate. 

Yet I have zero heroic aspirations. I do not want my name in any society magazines, entrepreneurship journals, environmental activists kind of thing. I just do me. I do what I can for my community and my sphere of influence. Put me in a war zone, and my conscience and learnt behavior will be very much different. 

Who I am married to doesn't define me, but how this marriage navigates life, will affect my confidence since this is supposed to be a loved one, a confidant. I didn't know what to make of marriage. But I know what it takes to carry on with a long-term relationship. That said, I wasn't prepared to let it dictate my life. I am still cognizant that I need to be seriously independent to move on with life if separation, divorce or death happens in this relationship. 

I'm fairly pleased at how life has panned out. I am contented. I am thankful. I am still Catholic, but I am not religious. I have allowed my conscience and instincts to guide my choices and attitude towards people, situations and circumstances. I am glad that my education and beliefs allow for a morally strong conscience in this particular set of social norms. 

I love my friends for thinking of me this month. I don't need presents. Their friendships are my best gifts. An easy meal is always welcome. I don't need fancy; I love comfort food. A coffee too, works beautifully, if that means I get a precious hour with a loved one. 

I'm spacing out meals because I definitely can't do heavy foods daily, and I need to go easy on the alcohol too. Not everyone's schedule can squeeze me into this week. Hence, I decided it's prudent (for my stomach and people's calendars) to space out birthday meals to span the whole month.  

47. Hello.

Fish Bone Broth at Relish

Popped out to Relish at Cluny Court for an easy lunch with V. I keep going to Cluny Court, but I hadn't actually eaten at any restaurant at the building. I hadn't even stepped into Relish for months; maybe a year... or more. I remember its friendly menu but I couldn't name a single item from it aside from its decent burgers and tasty Scallop 'Her Kiao' Glass Noodles. 

Looking at the menu today, I couldn't even tell if it expanded its offerings. This afternoon, I was pleased to find a 'fish collagen broth udon' on the menu. There were pieces of fish (barramundi) with hand-cut inaniwa udon and handmade egg fishcake in barramundi bone broth. Wheeeee. It was perfect for a post-gym lunch. 

I simply ignored the collagen stated. With enough fish bones used, the collagen would have been all boiled in. I didn't need to finish all the udon. I just wanted the fish broth. This was a pretty delicious fish soup that wasn't a sodium bomb. V had the same thing because that was exactly what she was craving. But she passed on a sugar-laden soda. I couldn't resist having an osmanthus and wolfberries with pear thingy. Sparkling-something sodas are really my weakness.   

Working Out 5 Days a Week

Not traveling means that I have no excuses to slack off at the gym. I don't over-eat during the festive season, so my abs are still here! Ha. Before the night thunderstorms return, I'd better get my exercise schedule in order and optimize that gym membership.

I work out five days a week. That's not an issue at all. I would do six days, but I need to rest aching muscles. I'll say it again, if your muscles don't ache once in two weeks or so, then you're not loading heavy enough or doing new moves and work the deeper muscles or target the obliques that we rarely use in daily movements. 

I don't need two hours in the gym on weights or machines. I only need 45 minutes to an hour each time. I'm not fond of doing back-to-back classes. Working out for two hours is crazy when I'm not in a profession that requires an insane amount of bulking up or flexibility. 

I still eat carbs, but I don't over-do it anymore. I've eased off on my alcohol even more. That sugar really fattens up the abs. NO GOOD. I really can't drink much and still hit the gym the next day at full strength. A mild hangover interferes with how heavy I can lift. I don't like that feeling of not being 90% when I'm not down with a flu bug or something. I do have vertigo that interferes with the exercise regime now and then. I can only try to keep it at bay, and this seems to mean less alcohol.

I've started this five-day schedule (again) in September 2024. This is how I prefer to pace out the different exercises that my body likes. I've managed to keep to it for months. I'm striving to keep to it this year too.

• Monday - personal training with Coach. That means weights and loads of weights. Heavy.
• Tuesday - BodyPump or some form of easy weights and cardio to stretch out. Medium weights but loads of movement. OR a 2.5km quick swim. 
• Wednesday- GRID format class similar to many gyms' offerings. Depending on the week, it's either horrible cardio or weights.
• Thursday - Pilates 
• Friday - Gyrotonic

Okay 2025 Q1, let's do this.

Sushi with O

When O rustled up an impromptu lunch, we went to Miyu for some easy proteins and carbs. I like its reasonable pricing. Sure, you might not get the best cuts of fish here, and the rice isn't at the quality I expect but at least it's tasty. For the prices, the quality at Miyu is decent enough. 

There're smaller lunch bento in terms of tuna maki, wagyu beef cheek or unagi, et cetera; those come with a small salad and a miso soup. That's perfect for any casual lunches. Today, O and I opted for the $98++ omakase set because we honestly can't eat that much nowadays. 

Our chosen set comes with soup and some cooked items, ten pieces of sushi and a handroll, and a mini bowl of chirashi. I was stuffed. We already requested for less rice in our sushi and such. Hehehe. O still loves tuna and enjoyed her otoro sushi. I don't bother with tuna-anything. So the chefs replaced all my fish with alternatives which were fine. Shima aji is always welcomed. I popped an antihistamine so I didn't mind the amaebi and kuruma prawn.

I really shouldn't have, but I caved and had a glass of highball. Heh. It wasn't heavy lah. It went fairly well with the ika tempura and the oilier fish. Hanging out with O is always great. We've been friends for like... almost three decades. OMG. We don't always get to match our schedules; her work travels take her away for months on end. But we can do this four times a year. Heh.

正月初七 :: 人日 :: 喝魚湯 :: 年年有餘

Passed by the deli and spotted a pack of buri fish bones. There was also a grocer next door. I had some time in the afternoon. So I decided to boil up a small pot of fish soup for the husband, and the dog. It's not a meal for the humans. It's just... soup. The husband loves soup and he would have it for breakfast or for a late afternoon snack.

The humans’ pot happily bubbled with all its ingredients. I didn’t bother salting it because I added bonito powder and wakame. Skipped the daikon and old cucumber. These weren’t the flavors I was thinking of for today. One tomato and one carrot lent it loads of sweetness and resulted in a slight orange-y final color. Haha. The soup boiled down to two big bowls, sufficient for the husband and I. No leftovers. Perfect. #ImpieCooks2025

I didn’t intend to have vegetables with it. The baby cos lettuce was an afterthought because I wanted its stems and bit of the leaves to lend the undernotes that would be nicer than celery. I blanched some leaves and kept that separately so that it wouldn’t be mushy. There were a few strips of juicy yellowtail flesh. I also seared those and kept them separately. Those were meant for eating. It turned out to be a rather tasty soup. The husband loved it. He generally likes soup, and good fish soup is always such a treat. He likes all the versions of fish soups I cook and offer to him.

Boiled down the dog’s portion to get all the collagen. Her portion was a lot smaller and didn’t contain tomatoes, onions or salt, too much garlic or ginger. Once cooled, I split them into two tubs — one to be included in her meals these two days, and the other to be frozen. I love that jelly texture when the broth cooled. The dog loved it too.

Witchy Things

I scored a 'skip-the-line' copy of 'The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches' (2022) by Sangu Mandanna. It was such an enjoyable little read. 

Thirty-one year old witch Mika Moon lives in Britain; she hides her magic in order not to draw attention to herself or any other witches. There's a small coven with a powerful senior witch named Primrose heading it, but they don't meet often, and their numbers haven't increased by many over the years. Apparently some witches decline to join this coven.

Mika is an orphan and is used to being alone; she lies low and doesn't mingle with other witches. But she has an online account that posts about witchy-witch things and pretending to be a witch because she thinks nobody will take it seriously. 

Except that one day, someone does. She is invited to Nowhere House to teach three young witches to control their magic. A mish-mash of characters live in the House owned by the mysterious Lillian Nowhere who's an archeologists, travels often and don't live there much. The young witches are the adopted wards of Lillian, and aren't blood sisters — ten-year-old Rosetta, eight-year-old Terracotta, and seven-year-old Altamira. There are the adults — groundskeeper Ken and retired actor Ian who look after the children, along with handsome librarian Jamie and housekeeper Lucie. Then suddenly, she 'belongs' to a found family, unconventional and endearing.

"That's very considerate of you," Mika remarked, wondering if the rest of the household knew that there was a tiny psychopath in their midst.

Before the conversation cold go any further, the sandpapery voice of Jamie, the librarian, interrupted them. "Cool outfit," he said, sounding amused. He tugged on the end of Terracotta's ponytail and Mika watched in fascination as the unnervingly intense expression on the child's face transformed instantly into a childish scowl.

"Jamie!" she complained, tilting her head back to glower up at him. "You're running it!"

"Ruining what? Your diabolical plot to scare the new tutor away, thereby saving you the trouble of having to murder her?"

Terracotta shot Jamie a betrayed, outraged look. "I told you," she hissed, making no effort to keep her voice down, "I don't want her here!"

Of course we have the classic danger and threat to this odd family in the form of wily solicitor Edward Foxhaven and the 'natural' death of Lillian Nowhere. But the danger is never that sinister. It feels like a fairytale of sorts. And the unexpected revelation that Lillian's twin sister is Peony, a.k.a Primrose. 

Mika Moon had to decide whether she wants to use her powers to protect the children and the House, and in doing so, carving out a real family, as well as uniting her coven of witches, and offering them another option of friendship and support instead of doing life alone. It's a happy ending. Heh.