Little miracles.

There we were back at the same table. Mentors and juniors; past and present. It's been way too long, but the entire gang finally gathered last night over a hell lot of bubbly and laughter. Heartfelt speeches were made, tears were shed, and too many IKEA glasses were broken.

It didn't seem that long ago that we'd all come together to work towards the same goal, a group of seemingly different women united by our shared love for publishing. The hopes and dreams that brought us together may have since changed, but last night was an affirmation that the friendships and bonds are made to last.

I started out 17 months ago hoping just for decent colleagues, but I've come away with so much more. Isn't publishing amazing? :)

Mommy tears

My baby turns one in October.

I've never had a child, but this magazine comes pretty damn close to one. The sweat, the tears, the back-breaking preliminary start-up and the good old days I used to haul bags and bags of food across town... has it really been a year since we went through all of that?

We're putting the finishing touches on our 12th issue, and I'm getting all teary-eyed.

Happy birthday in advance, sweetheart. It's been one hell of a run, from flapping at ground zero to becoming the relatively well-oiled machine you are today. Your mommies are super, duper proud of you.

Hello again, Bob.

I've been a Bob Blumer fan ever since I saw him on telly; a crazy-haired cook driving around in his Toastermobile, cooking up the most amazing dishes for the most colourful characters. I first saw him in the flesh two years ago at a World Gourmet Summit dinner (where he made us churn our own butter), and I had the good fortune to meet him again on Saturday, this time around at the Starhub Hubalicious Food Festival.

I couldn't think of a better way to spend a Saturday evening – the wine was flowing, our table mates were nicely rowdy and amazing oyster shuckers (more on that later), and I got to bring my fellow fan girl with me. Oh yes, and we got to eat some pretty amazing food.

In typical Bob style, we had to work for our first course. Oyster shucker, I am so not!

Thank goodness for the friendly, experienced shuckers at our table!

Credit's far from mine, but I'm not complaining!

Lobster bisque

Stinging nettle ravioli – tastes like spinach!

Dessert for mains. Salmon cupcake – salmon fishcake with a beet-coloured mash icing

And breakfast for dessert. White chocolate "egg whites" with a passionfruit sorbet "yolk".

In 2009, with Ken

2011, with Ceci. Why does it look like I'm the only one who aged???

Moral efficiency.

So, I haven't been to the office much since we put our September baby to print. I've decided to condense two issues worth of recipe testing into a week (so I'm not obligated to hit the stoves after my vacay), and I've been zipping in and out of grocery stores and my kitchen like a woman on a mission.

But while I was milking the euphoria that comes with not having to beat the peak hour traffic to journey to the far east, I was also getting increasingly unsettled with each passing day. It's weird, but all that dissipated the minute I sat down at my mess of an office desk this morning.

I can't explain it. I actually feel morally more efficient in an environment of pantry chats and lunchtime trash talking, as opposed to what seems like an illicitly indulgent five-successful-recipes-a-day schedule.

Go figure!

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. :)

Foodie perks and fangirl moments.

A few months ago, I had the chance of meeting Poh Ling Yeow. For the uninitiated, Poh's a MasterChef Australia (season 1) finalist and the host of Poh's Kitchen on TLC. I've been a fan of her vivacious TV personality and I was chuffed to get to interview her for my column. It took a hell lot of restraint not to blog about this that very weekend, and after what seems like forever, our June issue's finally out on the newsstands.

Apart from all that eating, getting to meet and pick the brains of foodies and chefs has got to be one of the best perks of my job. The excitement never gets old, although I like to think that I've developed a bit more poise since the year I ran across a ballroom just to get a picture with David Rocco. Coincidentally, my dear photographer friend Sook Wai, who egged me on to cop a shot with Rocco then, was snapping for this event as well. This is me, immortalised on film.

I burst out laughing when I first saw this. So this is what I really look like when I'm in food heaven.

Speaking of MasterChef, Ran and I attended a cooking class organised by Cookpad International last Sunday. It was organised team competition style, which was new but kinda fun, in a Masterchef-y sorta way. The kitchen zen I so enjoy while slicing things up eluded me and I found myself alternating between fervently checking the clock and anxiously thawing-frying-grilling beef. It almost felt like I was back at Saffron, 'cept that there was no nasty-tempered head chef staring holes into our backs. It was quite a Sunday evening and one thing's for sure – there's no way in hell I'm ever signing up to be on Masterchef, ever!

My team of lovely ladies.

Our tomato salad and under-caramelised onions.

The burgers turned out pretty well, though.

Jacqui treated us to her awesomely yummy cupcakes. That's the salted caramel and vanilla bean.

And that's Jon, the event organiser and director of international product for Cookpad, Inc. Within 5 minutes of Facebooking this shot, I had two very enthusiastic texts from my female friends asking who that hunk of a man was. Focus on the food, women!

Postcards from paradise.

My recent island trip was supposedly for work, but the bunch of uber colourful characters made burning my weekend so worth it!

Jungle dining

Breakfast for one, which I really enjoyed! :) I love my morning zen.

Sunsets

Sneak peek into a super luxe retreat

Trust me to find time to cop out for not one, but two foot massages! Right across the hotel.

Friendships forged over plenty of coma-inducing meals!

Off to the islands.

I like to think my beach girl days are over. Gone are the times when I would daydream about lying in a hammock, lulled into a catnap by the sound of waves lapping against a not so distant shore; when my idea of fun involved baking myself in the intense sunshine; and when I fervently sussed out deals for beach getaways and island retreats.

It's a little ironic then that work is, once again, taking me back to the islands. And despite the bad leg situation, I was so excited it took me awhile to get to sleep last night. I may have hung up my beach sarong indefinitely, but I guess you can never quite tame my inner island chick. :)

Make it from scratch.

Changes don't happen overtime. More often than not, they manifest stealthily, sinuously... kinda like vines creeping up wrought-iron fences. Some changes are inconspicuous, inconsequential, while others are huge, especially when cast upon unsuspecting ol' me.

It started off innocently enough. On Monday, I initiated a Messenger chat with a friend to arrange for dinner, having missed a gathering while I was away in Japan. She suggested that we pop over to hers for some nosh and I, in typical dessert queen fashion, offered to bring dessert. The dinner was set for Friday, and I immediately started plotting the logistics. Bake cupcakes on Thursday night after chap goh meh dinner. Zip home after work on Friday, make frosting and ice cupcakes, pack them and cab over. Easy peasy. And then I lost myself browsing recipes online.

Fast forward to a wet, gloomy Friday evening. My work had taken and left me stranded in the middle of the CBD where every other person was waiting/calling for a cab. I had exactly an hour to get home, conjure up a batch of icing, frost the cupcakes and leave the house. My feet were aching, and I was starting to feel like an underdressed clown amidst the sea of perfectly coiffed executives. Deciding to brave the rain, I eased out of the taxi queue and went off in search of a bus-stop. And guess what cranky ol' me had to flip-flop past? Three dessert places. Ice-cream. Pastries. Perfectly iced cupcakes.

That's when it dawned on me. I should have bought dessert instead! A box of macarons or chocolate truffles, or maybe a tub of ice-cream. That would have saved me the late-night baking sweatshop and a prior trip home. Instead, when I had volunteered to bring the sweets, I had, without any further thought, already set my mind on baking something. Buying a readymade dessert could not have been further from my mind.

Thanks to the string of work-related recipe testings, cooking and baking from scratch have become so ingrained in me that I never thought to consider non-culinary possibilities. For a person who loves convenience and efficiency, and who only in the past year roasted a perfect bird, fully overcome her fear of knives and really derived pleasure from cooking, this change is huge. It's monumental. And I love it.

Next up? Bread and homemade ice-cream, me thinks. Can't wait. And here they are, the babies born out of Thursday night's baking sweatshop. I couldn't be prouder.

earl grey cupcakes with vanilla bean and cream cheese frosting

adapted from Chocolate and Zucchini gâteau au yaourt, and a million other recipes

The pantry diaries.

So, I was lounging on the couch with Sophie Dahl's cookbook on my tummy, mentally running through my pantry as I lingered over any recipe that caught my eye. This is a routine I've been through for several years, way before I began my career in food writing. I almost always end up dismissing the recipes as, more often than not, I do not have the ingredients in my pantry. The kitchen really is still the domain of my Peranakan aunt and I didn't see the point of stocking up on bottles of balsamic vinegar, apple cider vinegar and all those fancy schmancy things Western recipes ask for. Granted, I don't always want to cook the dishes, but being the female that I am, I like having the option of actually trying out a recipe without having to lug back a cartful of condiments I wouldn't use for another two years.

But as I flitted through the beautiful Sophie's book today, it dawned on me that a good portion of the ingredients the recipes called for were already in my pantry. Balsamic vinegar, check. Fleur de sel, check. Rolled oats, check. Grapeseed oil, check. I may not have nicely fillet pieces of sole waiting in my fridge, but as far as condiments and dry ingredients go, I am pretty much covered.

And that, my friends, is the beautiful byproduct of the many recipe testings I have to do every month. A job in publishing may hardly pay the bills but boy, does it stock your pantry!

{image from weheartit} 

Food for thought.

I started reading Jennifer 8 Lee's The Fortune Cookie Chronicles today, and something the author said really made me think.

'Charitably, you could describe me as "passionate" about Chinese food. Passions seem lively and motivating, while obsessions sound dark and vaguely deviant. But the line between passion and obsession is a wobbly one.'

She went on to talk about how obsessions pick and control us more than we pick and control them. That had me thinking of the time I almost backed out of a much-anticipated Lawry's lunch with the girls as I was - I admit - obsessed with completing one of my first freelance food articles.

The realisation was startlingly clear. I was, once upon a time, driven by adrenaline and hair-tearing, overzealous passion. I was, once upon a time, obsessed with work. It's a rousing and somewhat scary thought. Thankfully, that obsession has, over time, dulled into a slow-burning passion. You would rarely find me in the office after 6.30pm these days, unless it's production crunch-time. And it's become a lot easier to fix up appointments and dinner dates with me as compared to the start of my career, when I would leave office to go home and write.

And you know what? I'm feeling so much better now that I'm not all strung up. I guess it does help to have a wholly successful boss who would, once in awhile, remind me that 'work is not everything'.

Balance. This could be one of my buzzwords for 2011. :)

The festive rush.

Anybody who tells you that you can smoothly juggle:

1. a full-time job (with responsibilities that warrant that I clear all my articles before I jet off for a 11-day holiday - read: 8 stories, photo shoots + proofreading in 1.5 weeks)
2. festive celebrations
3. temporarily running a household and
4. planning and packing for above-mentioned holiday

is LYING.

I have in the past 10 days, :

1. Researched, written and typed myself into a corner
2. Ran amok collecting work-related stuff from around Singapore
3. Researched, written and typed myself into a corner
4. Shopped, searched and bought gifts for festive exchanges
5. Shopped, searched and lugged home 100000 items for a photo shoot
6. Played Cinderella at a gala dinner (11pm curfew to WRITE)
7. Realised I've missed out on a gift
8. Scrambled/begged for favours to get gift
9. Researched, written and typed myself into a corner
10. Drawn up a packing list
11. Chucked packing list
12. Vacuumed luggage (that's what happens when you now live near a construction site)
13. Baked way too many cookies
14. Ate way too many chocolates
15. Ate way too much

 #7 - #14 happened today, by the way. #15 happens every other day.

Crazy? It's an understatement.

My golden kitchen rule.

picture from inmagine

My job often sees me interviewing chefs and bakers, and one recurring question I always pose is this: "What is the one piece of advice you'll give to aspiring cooks?"
Their replies range from "Always read the recipe once in its entirety before cooking" to "Invest in a sharp knife". Valuable advice definitely, but if you asked me - which you probably wouldn't, which is why I'm blogging about this - I would say: "Never pile the dishes in the sink!" Trust me, it's something I've learned from all the recipes I've been testing.
 
Have a think. To make a simple chocolate cake, you would require:

1. Measuring cups and spoons to measure the ingredients
2. A knife to portion the butter
3. A heatproof bowl to melt the chocolate
4. A whisk or electric beaters to cream the butter and sugar
5. A bowl to hold the butter and sugar
6. And if you're separating the eggs from the yolks, another whisk and bowl to whip up the egg whites
7. A baking tin for the batter 

That's quite a bit to plunk in the sink, and quite a dreary feat to wash up after! It doesn't have to be though, not if you - and here's the key phrase - wash as you go.

Here's what I'd do:

1. Measure out all ingredients, then plunk measuring spoons, cups and knife into the sink
2. Put the chocolate to melt
3. Wash all that are in the sink - this shouldn't take too long and the chocolate should have melted by the time you're done.
4. Remove chocolate from heat and leave to cool slightly.
5. Cream butter and sugar
6. Whisk egg whites
7. Add chocolate, yolks and other ingredients into the creamed butter.
8. Fold in egg whites.
9. Dump all used bakeware into the sink.
10. Pour batter into the tin, then place it into the oven to bake.
11. Wash all that is in the sink - this will take longer than the first round of washing up, but your cake's probably not gonna be ready that soon anyway!
12. Wipe down the tables, twiddle thumbs and perhaps take a quick shower.
13. Cake's ready.
14. Serve and eat in peace, comforted by the knowledge that all you have to wash at the end of this is the greasy cake tin.

Easy peasy?

LOL.

Smooshy: says: (2:32:00 PM)
fallin asleep

Smooshy: says: (2:32:05 PM)
somebody please slap me

leigh says: (2:37:47 PM)
-slap

leigh says: (2:37:48 PM)
haha

Smooshy: says: (2:38:50 PM)
AGAIN

leigh says: (2:41:10 PM)
-slap slap slap

leigh says: (2:41:12 PM)
slap me back leh

Smooshy: says: (2:42:55 PM)
mega SLAP

Whoopeedoo.

It may be a long working Saturday in the office tomorrow, but I'm milking the short exhilaration that comes with most Friday nights. That, and I'm feeling strangely pumped up - we're FINALLY nearing the finish line for our launch issue and I'm feeling super, super proud and satisfied. "It's like giving birth," my colleague quipped. 

Yup, it sure does feel like it!

But it's never quite all work and no play food in the office. :)

Treading water.

Very, very, very, very, very busy. Gulp.

Taking stock.

I suppose it is when you're dog tired yet still buzzing with contentment that you can be certain you love your job. It's been a crazy week at work, but witnessing our hard work translate into a tangible product, and of course having the traditional closing drinks with the team, make all the scrambling and late nights worth it.

 But I did have a spot of calm before the storm. I spent the entire weekend doing absolutely nothing work related and what a breath of fresh air it was! It was good catching up on all the gossip with the GQC babes over pizzas and desserts on Saturday, as it was having Jin over on Sunday evening to demolish a few cupcakes and wine, in a somewhat homely tribute to our pre-India/HK happy hour margaritas. And despite her allergy to dust, she gamely got on her knees to peek under my bed and behind the piano in the hopes of uncovering something I've stupidly misplaced.

I've yet to find it.

Well, I should know by now that life indeed works in funny ways. Perhaps the answers I'm looking for will come to me in another way.

I'd still like to find it though.

Perspectives.

Exactly a week ago, I was sipping on a glass of wine with the sound of crashing waves in the background. Today, I'm home exceptionally early on a Friday with a stack of ozalids waiting to be proofread by morning. The contrast is fascinating - life certainly takes us places doesn't it? :)

It's been awhile since I had a small pocket of time to reflect back on the days gone by, and it seems like a lot has happened in the past few weeks. There's been a couple of rough patches on the personal front, but I do believe that the best way to live is to let the bad things go, and I think I've bumped my way through just fine.

Life on the work front's busy, as is the usual, but very exciting too with lots of new happenings. I remember my days as a communications intern at Sentosa when I had to constantly call writers up to chase for their RSVPs, and telling myself that I would never do that to someone else when I'm on the other side of the fence. Fast forward five years and I have become exactly that sort of writer. I always tell myself I'll try to sort my schedule out to see if I can fit the event in, only to forget about it entirely when work piles up.

Talk about ironic! But I'm trying to rectify that.

For now, it's TGIF (for a little bit) and back to work. :)

In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high.

Now that I officially write for a living, writing purely for my own pleasure is no longer as cathartic as it used to be, but it is still a good form of release whenever and wherever introspection strikes.
I've been at this job for awhile now and it hits me, every now and then, just how lucky I am to be doing what I love. And I try as much as I can not to take it for granted and to grasp on to that tiny bit of magic beneath the daily grind. There are times when I bumble about trying to find my footing; others when things go so well I feel like I own it - the former keeps me in check and serves as a reminder of how much more I have to learn; the latter serves as a tiny pat on the back on my growth so far. Most importantly, the fluctuating balances keep me on my toes so I don't slip into a rut.

I will be embarking on one of my career's firsts in less than two days - something short, but nonetheless exciting, thrilling and just that bit nerve-wrecking. Thank you stars, for aligning the way you do for me. :)