Bending

I am typing this blog post on a school computer which has the label 'strictly for scanning only' emblazoned at the top of the screen.

And somehow, I know, that 4 years from now, when the thought of travelling to Boon Lay would be met with an expression along the lines of 'What...why go so far?' or even 'Where is that?', I would instinctively recall as well the library with the unisex toilets and warm lavatory seats.

Who knows, I might even recall how I'm typing this in the midst of a very bogged week.

黑社会

Many races can boast of the survival gene, the Chinese are top notch at this, considering how we've been able to penetrate every border and in most cases, survive. But the Chinese can also boast of another survivability trait - that is, the ability to render almost every root, plant, and creature, potable. So it is with no wonder that salted eggs - yes, chicken/duck/quail eggs steeped in brine till its white and yellow innards shrivel - were invented by the Chinese eons ago, and till today are still savoured with a helping of porridge. More often that not, the salted eggyolk, which has even found its way into mooncakes and other expensive pastries, is treasured and the white component discarded. And today at 黑社会,
I had the misfortune of finding that the salted eggyolk had also made its way into 泡饭 (which is not that much of a loss considering how I have never been too keen on porridge):

But alas, the salted eggyolk intruded upon the otherwise lovely 流沙包. That dish was certainly the winner. It was served in dimsum boxes:

Orange-hued buns steamed over a slow flame, encasing a golden liquid centre of custard and...salted eggyolk...one had to eat it ala 小笼包 fashion, peeling off the top and dipping it into the molten centre before swallowing the remainder whole.

I had the privilege of enjoying many other scrumptious dishes, but the one that really stood out from the crowd was the abalone tart.

Sarah! I hope this reaches you before you open the can of abalone. Unless, you decide to brave the barbaric Chinese style of chugging this edit: bivalve out of the can, here is another solution! Morsels of abalone steeped in herbal sauce, places upon some diced vegetables in a pastry case. Brilliant.

And now, Auden beckons. I might upload the whole album of photographs without a narrative in a seperate post. Alternatively, there is a high chance of me returning to this place, so I might do a compare and contrast exercise should I order the same dishes again.

Till then.

Sarah's Birthday!

Happy Birthday Sarah! I'm so happy I got to commemorate this day with you!

And here's what followed immediately after this shot was taken:

The other participants were a little less interested though:

And Thank you sarah for scouting out such a lovely place for us. Here's pictoral proof:

Even the card holder was authentically Turkish!
But all these were only a sneak preview of the gastronomic pleasures waiting to unfold. Sarah and I did the ordering, and this came first :

An assortment of chickpeas, tomatoes, mint leaves etc. pureed to a smooth consistency, meant to be slathered on this huge lavas.

And the next dish was nothing short of a surprise. I was cautious about ordering 'pizza' from a Turkish restaurant, having tortured my palate before with hamburgers from a chinese diner and (shudder) Italian Yoghurt from a road side bubble tea stall. And remembering how the hamburgers from the chinese diner turned out to be spherical white buns, I was even more skeptical when the pizza arrived boat-shaped. But, the cynic in me disappeared at a bite of melt-in-the mouth bread encasing warm melted cheese and tender lamb chunks. Here is the winning surprise:

This was followed by a dish called 'Imam [insert Turkish word here which would translate the dish's name as (the Imam fainted)]'. So why did he faint? Probably from the awesome stacks of eggplant, tomato puree and cheese.

It even came with a cute spoon.

And we could never step into a Turkish Restaurant without feasting on its Kebabs. So we ordered a platter.

This dish disproved the western style of consuming lamb: if it has been simmered to the point of succulent tenderness and when it emits the enchanting aroma of herb mixture, you don't need mint sauce!

And all this was washed down with mint tea and ice water (Sarah, Jean and I had the former of course!). The beverages were served with an interesting tray, and drunk from delicate pottery.

But of course it would not have been complete without the birthday cake!

Poor Germaine and Zah sawed and ploughed through the frozen hazelnut praline base, before serving up:

Sarah gave me the macaroon :)

And all this happened in Alaturka @ Arab Street. Perfect example of how there's so much of Singapore that we have yet to explore. Like, this shop:

Today's celebration shows the sweet benefits of leaving the car keys behind, boarding a random bus or taking the train, diving into unexplored lanes, feasting at quiet eateries which dish up the best foods, and with the best company :)

On a lighter note, Jie and I braved the Friday night Orchard Road crowds for the 鳩首fair. Everything was so buyable. But I always make the mental note to myself to exercise restraint whenever I step into a Japanese stall. So we left only with these:

But that restraint lost some of its inhibitions at 紀伊国屋。

What a wonderful day!

Dashes of Resignation

Something new happened today. I was caught in a special predicament, the kind in which all you want to do is lambaste somebody, only to find yourself with no expletives at your disposal simply because you want to avoid getting sued. I sure could have flamed her (that's a clue) on this platform, but Thou would not be pleased, won't Thee?

And I thought I had recovered from this incident faster than expected, only to reverse Time during レッスン。(An inside joke really, only せんせい and me know, though the former would not be pleased to know of how I altered the unmovable force of the universe with a simple misstrokes of pen on paper.)

Quick, silver lining:

Ok.

Save Time

If Time could really be contained in a clock, how would you save it when it trickles away ala Dali's melting clocks?

So let's say that the time I have is contained within the clock with the yellow rim (somehow I like how its hanging off the brown structure, as if its solid upper half is clinging on for dear life). And right now, time is melting away like the centre of a poached sunny side up, as I press key after key on the school computer's keyboard.

And I've never exactly been able to rescue the running contents of a poached yolk after having its thin skin pricked, except to absorb the spill with some hot rice or bread. So how should I save time once I've inadvertently let it melt away?

Soak it up and make a good meal :)

...cont'd from previous post:

Why is everything always relentlessly evaluated and compared on the basis of beauty?

Uggh.

おくりびと

So, is 'death' the only complement to this highly variable subject called 'life'?

Does beauty share an indirectly proportionate relationship to time?

And is life beautiful only because there is death?

Why is beauty so subjective?

Why is beauty made comparable?

Is death beautiful?

Is life beautiful?

Is life beautiful simply because it is finite?

Or are those who seek beauty in death simply morbid?


Your spilled innards triggered my splatter of thoughts.

Racism

As much as I am perpetually puzzled by people who practice self-racism, I am equally intolerant of racism, particularly when it happens in a country which has swamped its citizens with thousands of campaigns about racial harmony.

Maybe I should have flashed one of those cheesy posters of 4 people of different races flashing big smiles at the camera today. Racism at its worst, unveiled today.

The weak will always try to pull down the strong.

Is this meant to be one of those moments where there are only 1 set of footprints in the sand?

Sweets

I try to live as closely as possible to the saying 'when life gives you a lemon, make lemonade'. So, since Life has already given me so many lemons, all I need to do is grab and squeeze those things, and add some sugar to render the sour juice more palatable.

And sugar can come in the form of goodies from a makeshift shop. Girls have an insatiable sweet tooth when it comes to sweets in adorable packaging.

This was my part of the stash:
3 sachets for SGD $4.

I did not wallop all of them! The blue tube went to lilbro John, the purple to Jie, and I set my sweet tooth on a row of :

Limited Hokkaido Melon Soft Stick Candy

All the goodness of Yubari Melon Juice in a piece of Candy.

Which reminds me of the Japanese homework I need to do....

Stomach, I implore thee to stop!

Get ready for my heart-felt, impassioned plea to a long-serving organ:

Dear Stomach,

You are the probably the most muscular portion of my body. But I do not want to overwork you anymore. Muscle fatigue of the stomach can be very hard to repair. So, it is with your well being in mind that I implore thee to stop eating! Even if the stubborn legs of the body you happen to be situated goes to People's Park for food like this:

And have your mum buy this:

Sincerely,
The Brain

Curiously enough, my studies as an English Major has opened up an interest in languages as a whole. My love (proud of my own race)-hate (damn those 听写) relationship with the Chinese language has since taken a change for the better, Japanese classes are a weekly highlight, I shall zap Sharon's Korean book soon and I have Sarah and Zah for Malay!

But right now I'm so intrigued with how the Chinese terms for food items are so accurately descriptive. It could never have been more apt to name those savoury delights in the 1st picture collectively as 点心。It would take a genuine love for food to craft such small, and hence so quickly consumed, morsels in a kitchen cramped with eggs, flour, flaming stoves. Not to mention the 锅贴 in picture 2. How I love peeling those stickers off the pot.

I simply love how the Chinese Language is so precise in capturing details. Now, if only it was not that hard to master!

Zebra Cakes and Candy Floss

Thanks to a mid term and late night driving lesson contained within my longest day of the week (a friday at that!), I decided to begin my Saturday with a leisurely morning swim. And it was serendipitous that I found Saturday mornings, specifically 9a.m., to be the optimum time for swimming. The pool was empty, the water was sufficiently cool, and somehow, swimming alone gives me the motivation to do continuous laps. Now, this is how I should start every Saturday.Nevertheless, the increased number of forays into the pool has resulted in me enjoying swimming as much as treadmill-pounding. My knees are going to thank me for this.

Though my stomach certainly would not, considering the amount of sugar I consumed after swimming.

I taste-tested the Zebra Cake my sis, grand aunt and I baked at my grand aunt's place.

It was really a simple cake to make, yet the first attempt was no good (I do have a good excuse for this, but its an insider thing!), second one got better. This is the 2nd batch.

Unassuming crispy brown crust which deceives all into thinking this is a run-off-the-mill marble cake. actually conceals.

A moist, soft mix of black and yellow swirls.

I could not resist an entire piece.

And my sugar consumption went into the 'danger zone' with Mum's purchase of a childhood favourite.

Mouthfuls of saccharine that send your carbohydrate intake sky high for SGD$1.50. Not to mention the smiles and waves of nostalgia of those days where Mum would take you to candy floss booths at shopping centre counters and watch it churned out fresh for you.

There were 2 bags. The right one, banana flavoured. The left one, splashed with the colouring mimicking a type of berry that is not the blueberry. Food science has failed!

This sugar overload has since sentenced me to a longer time in the gym. Not the pool though, since technology allows me to tweak the treadmill and other apparatus, to force my body into a better sugar-incinerating rate.

I need motivation.

Thanks レダ. I shall endeavour to have abs like you. And everytime I feel like hitting the sack rather than pounding the pavement, I shall look at you - you who has everything every girl wants to have - and allow your flat and taut stomach to drive me to an insane state of jealousy and also to the gym, where I would listen to your band as I whack the treadmill.

Before this post comes to an end:

A mini list:

1. The blue candy floss was flavoured raspberry.

2. Leda is a man.

Lagging Behind Sucks. Catching up does not.

My extreme lack of discipline over the recess week was accompanied by a nagging awareness of the horrendous spillover effects that would overwhelm me once school starts. And it has.

I need to engage the top gear or I'd end up creating an unbridgable rift. And I'm on the way there :)

I'm going to do the conventional blog etiquette for jumping to a totally unrelated issue from what I've been speaking about thus far.

OFF TOPIC:

I want to go scrambling. Does anyone know where i can get this done?

Unsavoury Bird's Nest

So that was what I had for dinner yesterday. Kudoes to Dad's culinary skills, speciality being the art of turning the simplest of foods into the tastiest of morsels, using the simplest equipment. This corn was simply plucked from the chiller, seasoned with pepper and salt, steamed over some careful timing, and was as delicious as ever.

And today we were slapped with a shock. I still cannot put a finger on how those mynahs squeezed through a hole so small, carted along with them so many twigs and plastic substances, sanitary pads inclusive, to create a mess so huge it reeked of rotting vegetation. Pictoral Evidence as follows:



This was only the bottom half.



And here's the top.



And they even found time to spawn. That white spherical object, above the lump of plastic, is actually a hatched egg.

As if finding this mess in my grandma's house (where we used to live) was not a shocking enough surprise, the process of finding used sanitary pads, plastic sheets, feathers and live cockroaches pop up amidst the heaps of twigs as we cleared the stinking mess had to be interrupted by the false homeowners aka the mynahs, launching an assault on the house. So yes, while Dad continued to scrape through the heap and Jie and I rushed to close the windows (seal all possible routes of entry!), the only word that ran through my mind was - hitchcock.

I was not exaggerating. What kind of birds take over your house at such an alarming rate and even leave warnings to mark their presence?

A cockroach with its innards ripped out, shell left behind intact. Remember those movie scenes where the protagonist walks into the killer's home only to find a skull? Yes, that was it.

So after 30mins of cleaning and fending rabid mynahs, the house was restored to its proper human-habitating status again.

I cannot stand to have the post end this way.

This is better!