Leigh's Meatless Mondays

I have all these half-arsed ideas about ethical eating and food politics, but I never quite got around to tangibilising my thoughts and making a scrupulous stand. I have, several times over the past few years, attempted to dig a little deeper, but it's hard to breathe in a whirlpool of discourse when you've got confusion sitting on your lungs.

"I'll only eat happy meat or none at all." Now that's something I wish I could say with conviction, but I have a million questions running through my head. Are kampung chickens considered to be free-range? What about pigs? And cows? Is free-range even an applicable term when it comes to farming in Asia? The answers probably lie within the encyclopedia of information out there, considering the number of investigative journalists fighting to expose dark trade secrets, but inertia currently has an iron grip on me.

The next best option for a confused but concerned meat eater would probably be to not eat meat. I did attempt it for awhile, back when I was 21, living in India and getting into the yoga swing of things (and trust me, it isn't that hard to go veggie in India), but any green notion was lost to the wind the minute I set foot on Parisian soil. Steak frites? Oui! Confit de canard? Oui, oui! Foie gras? Oui, oui, oui!

And realistically speaking, vegetarianism is hardly an option now that I've made a career of knowing and writing about the flavour nuances in the infinite world of food, of which meat is a huge part of. The most conflicting part is perhaps how much I love and crave the whole process of tasting, learning and knowing.

Gone are the days when I would eschew a hearty burger (medium doneness, with a side of limpy hand-cut chips, please) in exchange for stir-fried greens. In the past year, I haven't had even the slightest conviction to going green, but a recent conversation I had with a friend has got me thinking that I could, amidst all this bumbling and self-doubt, let go of my nonchalant all or nothing approach and try to make a semblance of a difference.

This quite wisely sums out what I think:

image from here

So yes, I've decided I am going to embark on my personal Meatless Mondays, starting today. It's one hell of a baby step, and perhaps an inconsequential footprint in the world of food ethics, but I think I owe it to me. Salad, anyone?

Only human

The official changing of hands finally happened yesterday. Despite the two-month-long limbo I've had to wrap my head around the switch, nothing quite prepared me for the whammy of emotions that hit me, right in the heart.

The torrent of tears were unexpected and illogical, but understandable when one has to say goodbye to the best mentor a writer can ever wish for. The finality of it kick-started a mental reel of pivotal moments, all of which brought on a mix of reluctance and gratitude, along with fresh waves of tears.

So I gave in to them for a bit, then I fixed my makeup and hailed a cab to a press conference. I sniffled a little while sitting through the peak-hour jam, acted fairly normal amongst work acquaintances, went out to dinner, teared a little while waiting in line, shared a few laughs over coffee and a slice of murderous chocolate cake, and then went home and let it all out.

My tear ducts haven't been on overdrive like this in a long while, and it was incredibly bizarre and inexplicable, yet so cathartic at the same time. It was less a lament of loss, more a recognition of acceptance and change. So, I'm cutting myself some slack this weekend for being human (and a woman). Life will roll right along come Monday.

The spark, the all-consuming spark.

Adrenaline. Discipline. The mounting momentum that negates all aches and tired eyes, and the silent race towards the finish. I've always taken pride in our ability to leave the office at a decent hour even during crunch time, but I found inexplicable joy tonight in working with the girls in a near-empty office, united by the common goal of sending our monthly baby to print.

To be perfectly honest, I'd slipped into a bit of a career funk in the past couple of months, and that unsettled the shit out of me. Having spent so many of my formative years identifying with my affinity with words, I couldn't quite put a finger on what it was that shaped me, if not for my crazy-eyed obsession with the written word and the ceaseless energy I derived from the publishing world. And yet, recent recognitions meant little, and gave me nothing but a short-lived ego boost.

However, tonight was a startling reminder of just how much this – this stripped down task of marrying words and pictures on paper – fuels me, and how magazine publishing, with its absurd juxtaposition of ever-shifting plans against a clockwork print schedule, reels in the mad hatter in me.

I think I got my mojo back. :)

Postcards from Penang

8am and blurry-eyed

Snaps of our converted shophouse hotel room - Straits Collection Residences on Stewart Lane

First meal of the day at De Tai Tong on Lebuh Cintra, where super friendly, chatty old ladies work the floor. :)

 Auntie Sim offers a peek into our futures. 4 kids for Ceci!

Chendol pilgrimage

Sunlit stroll back to the hotel after our foot reflex session.

Chilling at Kopi Cine on 55 Stewart Lane, right beside our room.

Restless conversations on paper.

Breakfasting by the roadside in Little India

More drinks while waiting for our pedicure.

Yummiest meal in Penang at Shing Kheang Aun Restaurant on 2 Chulia Lane. I think even the fussy Khoo bibiks at home would be satisfied.

Showing off our pimped out nails

Background: Livers fried in dark soy sauce.
Foreground: Assam prawns.

Ikan gulai

Friendly local who readily dished out foodie tips. He's 60 this year and hikes regularly. Respect!

Coffee and toast break in an alley kopitiam.

Street food: Lok lok - things on sticks. Kinda like steamboat meets satay.

All set for the "EPIC" train ride home. Well, we made it didn't we, babe?